The Lair of the Endless Dreamer

Chapter 2: A letter of Torment

I often found myself wandering the streets of Providence during the daytime hours. Often, my mind was too preoccupied with geological analyses I've done back in the days or historical artifacts I remembered studying while I worked back at the university. I was so obsessed that I barely remembered the moment of waking up, putting on my clothes and leaving the apartment. Hours would pass before I realize that I am out, among people, fantasizing about things far older than these new men of gray skyscrapers and tall buildings. In my mind, I was still at the campus.

And then, reality would hammer me and I would find myself standing on the street, gazing at those passing chariots and pedestrians like a mad man.

One day, I found myself standing by a huge wall of bricks, long covered in papers and advertisements offering various jobs. Barber, day laborer, stonemason, plumber... These weren't jobs that I could get accustomed to. It's not like I needed money. It's just.. I did not want to spend time locked between four walls. I can't believe I've said it. Yes. I was always a man of solitude, drowned in his work, away from other people. But, these days, I felt scared. Terrified.

That's why I strolled the streets during daylight. Because the nights were full of terror. Some might say I'm losing my mind. And to be frank, I'm not sure myself, either. But, those voices that whispered in the gloom, the unseen eyes that tracked my every step were a plague for my heart.

I was even more afraid to go to sleep. Because every single time I closed my eyes, the very same imagery would emerge in my dreams. Drowning, helpless, torn by immeasurable fear. Then, the dream world would twist and warp, forming shapes far alien for my human mind to understand. And the whispers... the terrible, dark hisses of invisible choirs would chant "Cthulhu fhtagn...".

It was almost dusk when I headed back to my apartment. As I moved through the crowd, I passed by a group of students, too indulged in their laughter that they did not recognize me. Good. I wished not to speak with anyone during these hours. The world was burning orange in the veil of the falling sun; long, dark shades covering Westminster street. I wanted to get back home in my bed before the early hours of the night. It was not much better in my apartment than outside, but at least I was home. Alone. With the voices in my ears and the stalkers in my head.
I unlocked the wooden door and entered.

My eyes narrowed and I frowned in confusion, staring at a pale, yellowish envelope lying on the floor. It was addressed to me. I rarely received any mail. You could imagine the surprise on my face when I saw it. At first, I thought it was sent by the University... probably asking me to come back and continue the work where I left off. At least until I opened it and my eyes widened in shock as I went through the black, chaotic handwriting.

Mr. Wallace

My name's Charles Pierson, an excavator of the Miskatonic University and a close friend and colleague to your brother, Mr. Martin Wallace.

I'm writing this letter in the last arduous days of our coming here at Pohnpei. I regret to inform you that your brother has been missing for over a week now. Most of my team have vanished and I feel that.. I will disappear very soon.

The... scourge of the sea is already upon us. Darkness clouds my judgement. I can hear them, in the night, coming nearer. A faint, strange light outside my window. A color... a color I have never seen. I tried to shut them out. But, I can barely feel my body anymore. As if... as if something else steals it, possessing my limbs. And my thoughts are growing dark... my thoughts, they are not my own anymore.

Do not come here at any cost, Mr. Wallace! I felt it was right to inform you about your brother. And to warn you as soon as humanly possible. Human.. I do not know if I could call myself that, anymore. I could see it in my mind. The city of million corpses, tainted by nightmarish lands. It calls to me. It won't leave me alone. Sometimes, HE emerges in my dreams. Although I'm too frightened to see his face, we know the stories of the old folk in these lands. They whisper in uttermost terror, as if afraid that pronouncing its name will doom us all. A twisted, unfathomably alien... thing of cosmic horror, wreathed in such form that a mere glance would succumb us into madness. The Great Dreamer. Him who lies dreaming... To the Sleeping God we're the same as the ants beneath our boot. I.. I.. fthagn, Cthulhu fthagn..