First ContactA Story by Jonny The Savage A lucid dream that I had on 4/28/12. In the beginning, there was nothing save a gray old man and myself. A few moments passed and the memory of some transaction with the old man remains (if only psychic or assumed), his watchful eye remained over me at all times. We existed in a dark void, with nothing to be observed existing outside of ourselves. After this came the realization that I was dreaming and an epiphany overtook me: I can create. I focused on this epiphany and nearly instantly indecipherable objects of varying colors came into existence, redefining the void that the old man and I had come to inhabit. This infuriated the old man, I could feel this along with what may only be described as hope; the appreciation of life itself. My focus remained upon my creations, to the extent that I entirely missed the old man’s transformation and yet… I was aware of it. My field of vision was not quite so limited to the restrictions of human eyes; it was similar to looking down upon something, as if from a great height but while being completely level. But this was not quite my vision per se, but an empathy that became a perception itself. As my creations began to thrive, my attention quickly turned to what had been the old man. It was too late to observe completely the sinister being as it began to assault my face with a clawed and scaled hand of a dark shade of green. This being elicited an overwhelming feeling of dread, all the while this happened. I could feel myself growing weaker and the dread intensify as the cosmic horror continue its assault. From it, I could feel fury unlike I’ve ever personally experienced and as I began to lose myself to it, I could feel a mournful feeling from my creations that I reciprocated. This is where I wake myself up as I do when any dream enters the realm of nightmares. I awoke to see that the eternity that the dream had felt was mere minutes in this world. An absolute dread and confusion overtook me. The only other time I had felt this emotion was after a night terror. I laid there wondering just what had happened. Are dreams a susceptible state of mind that may be influenced? Never once have I ever wondered this in my life; any attempt by someone on the subject of the meaning of dreams had been met with mockery, but I could not shake the feeling that I had made contact with some sort of cosmic horror and that we were now aware of each other. I have had lucid experiences before and never was there something that I could not manipulate, yet the sinister being remained out of my control. I question its true form, considering of my perception of it from the embodiment of wisdom to that of fury, terror and dread.
© 2021 Jonny The SavageReviews
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Jonny The SavageAtlantis, Apple RockAboutAesthete, philosopher and scholar first; and a writer, poet and musician second. A rather blunt individual with no regard for dogma or taboo. A curious soul seeking the truth beyond this mortal coil. more..Writing
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