The Beast of Dreams

T H E S H A D O W O F D R E A M S

I woke up this time inside a landscape of nightmares, a landscape of fire, a landscape of every shadow of my dreams, and I knew this was absolutely the last time I would truly wake up. All I wanted was real sleep.

R E A L S L E E P .

Real sleep, a sleep in which I don't have to wake up in the Beast's hellish landscapes. That damned Beast.

T H E D A M N E D B E A S T .

The landscape was echoing my thoughts, the Beast knew it all, and I could finally hear my thoughts in my ears, not my head.

I T K N O W S A L L .

I wandered through this hellscape, through the grand lakes of fire, through the great forests of shadows, and up to the top of the mountain of great white snow. The path was a treacherous one, and I was on the edge of falling, literally and figuratively, multiple times. I wondered when the Beast would pop its disgusting head up from the rocks, and I knew it would only happen at the top of the mountain. It just made sense.

I T J U S T M A D E S E N S E .

Okay, now it was getting very annoying. I'd rather hear my thoughts in my head, not my ears, my head, my head, my head is my brain and shall hold my brain's thoughts.

N E G A T I V E .

Well, that was an interesting development.

After a long time of treacherous climbing—

T R E A C H E R O U S C L I M B I N G .

Now it was destroying my train of thought completely, not reflecting—

D E S T R U C T I O N , N O T R E F L E C T I O N .

The Beast certainly did have a sense of humor.

After a long time of treacherous climbing, a large amount of time spent thinking of nothing, and after waiting for seven hours right at the steps of the peak, I finally made it to the top. It was quite flat—

F L A T .

—and rocks surrounded the outer edges. There was no sun in the sky—

N O S U N .

—as it was overcast, and snow was slowly falling over the cold hellscape. The hellscape turned white over the time it took to snap your finger, and the Beast's imagination, my imagination technically, was working overtime to create this white land.

W H I T E .

I stood upon the peak—

U P O N T H E P E A K .

—waiting for the Beast to arrive, and it arrived after three hours. I wasn't anxious, I wasn't scared, I wasn't feeling anything—

N O T H I N G .

—for I knew today was the end. This was certainly the last dream.

N E G A T I V E .

So the Beast can be wrong about certain things. Interesting.

The Beast came, and my echoes became silent. He stood before me in its true form, a shadowy version of myself, and I knew it was going to speak. When it spoke, a very rare occurrence over these past months, it was a grandiose event. It always came with a thousand trumpets, light everywhere, a booming as loud as his voice, maybe even louder. And then it spoke.

It was horrible, it was loud, it was like it was embedding words into the part of my mind that it didn't control, it was as if it inserted a pillar that had a thousand words of hate written on it, it was like God Himself was speaking to me, but if there was a God, it was the Beast of my mind. The Beast looked all over my mind, that damned Beast, and inserted its words into my weakest point, it inserted the pillar and left a large depression on my brain.

It spoke.

YOU ARE PATHETIC, PATHETIC, PATHETIC, AND AS PATHETIC AS A LEGLESS CENTIPEDE WHO'S DYING FROM STARVATION. YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING, FOR I AM YOU. YOU DEPEND ON ME, FOOL. YOU CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT ME, YOUR LORD. I AM YOUR GOD.

It hurt, it hurt like hell, it hurt like a thousand knives embedded in my torso, it hurt like the boiling flames of the deepest pits of hell. It hurt. It forced it into my small mind with such force, that damned Beast, that I felt it physically, I felt it everywhere, and I couldn't avoid it. It spoke into my mind, it spoke directly into my mind, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't cover my ears, I couldn't cover my entire face with ten-foot thick metal plates, for it spoke into my mind. No! It spoke in my mind! It spoke from the deepest points of my mind, and its voice carried into the outer parts. He spoke from my mind to my mind, into my ears, and the sound came back. I couldn't stop it, I couldn't, and it knew it. It had finally won. I am dead. He destroyed my mind with those words. And he is my God. He is. Without him, my god, I don't exist.

W R O N G .

That wasn't the echoes. That was me! That was me! I did that! I was wrong! I am without him! I know it! I am!

I A M—

And I woke up in my bed, and I didn't see the Beast at all! I was free from the Beast at last!