I had a dream. Last night, I went to bed thinking about Stranger Things. I have never watched it, because it's too scary, but one of my teachers told me all about it. Especially about Vecna.
Vecna is this dude that's super scary. How scary? Sooper dooper scary. He looks like a scarred man, basically without any skin, just meat. Blood-red, slimy and pulsating.
In the dream, Vecna entered my mind. Suddenly, a black smokey fog covered my head, wrapping me up in complete darkness. Vecna then appeared in front of me, holding something in his hand. I couldn't see what it was, but the delicious smell wafting out of this object was instantly recognizable to me. It was a cup of cup noodles, my favorite food!
Vecna approached, a twinkle in his eyes, a lull to his step.
Then, with a surprisingly soft voice, he called: "Amiel, come here. Have some cup noodles, kid."
I have been taught never to accept food from strangers, not even in dreams, but then again, cup noodles are irresistible to me.
I took a step closer, then another. Vecna did the same. Our hands almost touched.
But then, suddenly, he attacked. He lunged forward, trapped me in his slimy, pulsating raw-meat arms, flipped me around and tilted me over my bed. Then, he did his worst. His very worst. The worst thing that could have happened to me. Much like Loki, God of Mischief, tied to a rock with the entrails of his favorite son, so was I, Amiel, Master of Chill, tied to my bed with my favorite seafood-flavored cup noodles.
Then, a single, wayward string of noodle wrapped itself around my neck. Strong and iron-clad, this Gleipnir, this garotte, this delicious noodle made out of the paradoxical elements of scrumptiousness and bloodthirsty intent killed me. Sliced my head off like a cheese cutter.
O, cruel Vecna. O my woes. O my cup noodles.
I have been killed in dreams before, but not like this. Not through this absolute torture. O my fate, to be killed by my favorite food.
