The Beetle Bride (ON HOLD)

The Ghost of her Dreams

Another night. Another dream.
No two were ever the same, each one unique and vivid, and beyond preposterous. Her adventures were wild, and vast. Exploring an eclectically colourful yet undoubtedly creepy world whilst she slept, left her feeling decidedly more hollow on the inside each morning. Waking to face dreary, mundane reality and go about her banal existence. Indeed, Lydia's life sorely lacked excitement, colour and shenanigans. The likes of which only he was able to provide.
Because although she was loathed to admit it, the twisted dream world she visited each night always guaranteed one unchangeable feature. Her companion. The inhabitant who made her flitting between worlds possible. He who's name she dared not even think, let alone say.
Her more sensible, inner voice continuously lectured her on sense and reason, and it chided her for being utterly ridiculous. Insisting the trauma she'd endured at his hands almost two years ago now, had obviously created such a negative impact, it had presumably left serious psychological scars. And perhaps the dreams were her way of subconsciously dealing with the emotional turmoil.

But in her other ear, whispered the figurative devil which sat atop her shoulder. Causing the doubt to seep in, and as it whispered the unthinkable, her ivory skin blushed pink and feelings of guilt and shame flooded her. She'd done some reading up on the subject of dream analysis, so knowing that it was predominantly him that brought her dreams to life, made her question her sanity, ethics and darkest desires. She knew it wasn't a coincidence. Although her imagination had somehow concocted a less malevolent, sleazy incarnation of him, perhaps as a coping mechanism, the fact that he was even taking up space in her head was both worrying and frustrating in equal measures. He'd moved into her dreams uninvited and was walking, or even levitating, around each night and she enjoyed his presence. Taking the role of a lovable rogue, he was nothing more than a trickster figure sporting his dirty black and off-white striped suit, he delighted in pulling pranks on others. Reckless and unfathomably powerful, despite his ghoulish appearance he was undeniably likeable. And she delighted in his company. He made her smile and somehow lifted her heavy spirits like no one in the waking, living world could.

And surely this was harmless enough? They were only dreams after all. Yet the crushing hit of normality she felt every morning when her alarm sounded for school, was even more unbearable after having spent the night running wild in her dreams, with a companion who not only accepted her for who she was, but made her feel completely at ease and good about herself as well.
The irony was bitter and wasn't lost on her, how one such as he could've made such an impression. Even though he wasn't the joker who posed no real threat in her dreams, in fact the harsh truth was he was a dangerous poltergeist. Yet still it was due to his influence, one way or another, that she woke with a smile on her face, and made everything more tolerable somehow.

Why wasn't Barbara and Adam enough for her? She asked herself over and over again. She was painfully aware of how selfish she was, after all not every seventeen year old possessed the ability to converse and interact with spirits. And not only that, but she'd been fortunate enough to have two of the nicest of their kind befriend her. They cared for her deeply and had almost become surrogate parents, which made her extremely lucky. It made her special, unique and extraordinary. It was an honour, a privilege. Most definitely a gift, that she often classed as a blessing. Since they had become part of her life, she'd felt more alive and less lonely.
Bizarre how the dead, seemed to make her feel alive. Perhaps it was due to her boundless interest in the supernatural, paranormal and macabre that made the friendship they shared so fulfilling.

Yet still she was driven almost to the edge of insanity by a yearning. A deep longing that threatened to consume her. And whilst the Maitland's made her happier, much happier than she had been before having made their acquaintance, their presence still didn't serve to fill the empty void inside. She still romanticised from time to time about the notion of committing suicide. When the long days drew in after having been subjected to callous taunting from her peers, due to her refusal to conform to their uniformal ideal by fitting in. The dark thoughts would creep into her mind, making her feel like a completely useless outsider, and her loneliness and desire to be accepted and loved would become overwhelming. It was on such occasions as this, that the forbidden temptation to call his name was strongest. Each time she had to reason with herself that these feelings of despair were just fleeting, and the thought of him nothing more than a passing fancy. Nothing could ever drive her to such desperation. True enough, her mood would eventually lift, but to her dismay the urge to summon the unruly ghoul remained present, refusing to budge.

He was under her skin and had she not been so reluctant to accept it and willing to wallow in denial she might've done something really drastic and foolish. Her logic dictated that to behave so recklessly would be unforgivable. Unleashing him would undoubtedly lead to disastrous consequences. Barbara and Adam would never forgive her, and remembering the way in which he'd terrorised her parents made her blood run cold. To betray them by unleashing that malevolent entity went against her principles and moral code. No matter how much she craved his company, to get to know him somehow and ask him the many questions she'd longed to ask. He wasn't the type of ghost you could conduct a civil conversation with anyway. So Lydia had resigned herself to being trapped in a never ending cycle of dreaming, pondering and then reproaching herself for even granting the self proclaimed "ghost with the most" entry into her thoughts. He was nothing more than an anomaly, an eccentric curiosity to her, who fuelled her vivid imagination and raging hormones.

In the end something was bound to give. Though she'd never have dreamt that he'd return. Chances are, he was most likely...dead...now. Could ghosts die? The handbook had mentioned exorcism being 'death for the dead' but he had been swallowed by that gigantic, nightmare inducing worm. How could he ever return? If he wasn't still languishing within the depths of it's stomach somewhere, why would he ever come back even if he were called? After such an ordeal, surely even he wasn't insane enough to come back into a house where every occupant, alive and dead, felt nothing except animosity towards him. Even she herself would have to feign hostility in order to not appear disloyal and hypocritical.
Likewise, if he had been seeking vengeance then surely he'd have reappeared by now, but almost two years had passed without incident and any fear she'd initially felt had long since subsided.

But it is a truth universally acknowledged that just as one begins to breath easy, after being lulled into a false sense of security, all hell breaks loose.

Lydia Deetz's world was about to be turned upside down once again by the notorious Beetlejuice....and what made it all the more surprising to all concerned was the fact that it was her own unwitting actions which caused it to happen.....