The · Diary · Of · Michael · Perry

Minor problems with the LJ spellchecker.

Now that that is out of the way, I can continue my typing.   Tonight is a weird night, I have crossed certain lines which I thought I would never cross.  And here I sit in my chair, typing these words on this uncomfortable keyboard listening to some sort of random song on my Zune, trying to understand what kind of purpose someone like me has in this world.  What exactly can I do to improve humanity, and is even improving this structure we have created around the organism known as humans worth surviving.  

 

This is not helping; life doesn’t equal some sort of endless discussion on our existence as a important function of life.  We’re here, and even though we feel that our presence is some sort of bane on this planet, we must survive.  It might be the true grit of our persons, some inner desire that causes us to continually battle or some deep religious instinct in our souls that cries out for a constant struggle of peace.

 

But what really matters escapes us at the most important parts of life.  We’re a numb species, some sort of gregarious ape that focused on nothing and yearns for elements most quick and unattainable.  And what about the present, what about our present happiness and our present company?  Do we just throw them to the wind like so many paper scraps?  Of course we do, let us numb the body until it feels whatever meager sensation our temporal body decides of next.

 

Even know these desires don’t escape me.  Let us sit now and ponder, what does life mean to us?  Is every moment cherished, or do we have so many wasted seconds sitting in useless queues waiting for useless things that will only destroy our minds and what time we have left in this in conceivably complex and inordinate life.

 

Tonight.

 

It equals nothing in the great scheme of things.

 

Or does it.

When I was younger I had this dream.   More of a nightmare than a dream.  But nightmares are usually a onetime only occurrence,  maybe twice, and if you’re extremely unlucky maybe thrice.   Nightmares aren’t suppose to last two years, the same thing every night.

 

 

Mine did.

 

 

My mother had this ritual, she thought to keep us safe.  She would plug in a baby monitor and would lock are room from the outside.  Basically, if there was a break in we were in an inside room and would be safe. 

 

Some things can go through locked doors.

 

I don’t remember the night it first happened; I assume my mother did the same thing she did every night.  Tuck us in, kiss our foreheads, and shut and lock our door.  And as I began to turn away from the locked door, something opened it.  I thought my Mom might have forgot something.

 

It wasn’t her. A shadowy figure stepped up to my bed, and grabbed me hurriedly.  I tried to fight it, but my limbs did nothing to impede it.  I was tightly held, and so the shadowy figure could do with me what he pleased.  Frightened, I felt air as we speed through the hallway at a rapid pace.  We stopped at the basement door, and without a thought the creature threw me down the stairs.  I gasped for help and just as I hit and felt the nothingness surround me.

 

I was awake.  Feeling less than rested.

 

This happened continually, every night.  Before I could even sleep. Kiss, Shut, Lock, Shadow, Death. Kiss, Shut, Lock, Shadow, Death.

 

But even children have their breaking point.

 

Kiss, Shut, Lock, and here was the Shadow.  But instead of just being dragged off to the death like grasp of the cold black fall, I gathered all my rage into a fist and swung it at the shadows face. He recoiled, obviously dealt some sort of blow.  He turned to me, and then I saw what he really was.  Eyes of black fire, face as blue and cold as ice, he hissed at me with yellow fangs, saliva dripping.   Then, I was dropped.  Safely on my bed, with no creature in sight.

 

I never had the dream again.