Silent

I had recently become interested in lucid dreams, having first heard of them from a guest lecture by Professor Morpheus; a professor of psychology hailing from the Miskatonic University. Having not experienced these dreams myself as well as being a psychology major, I was fascinated as the visiting professor explained that we were capable of making ourselves conscious within our own dreams and how this awareness could eventually lead to us controlling them. My coursemates accounts of their own brief moments of lucidity in their dreams only served to encourage me to try and experience one of these dreams myself. I visited Professor Morpheus in Arkham to better understand the methods of triggering lucid dreams and was mildly surprised to find him utterly supportive of my fascination. Rather than giving me an explanation, he instead gave me a list of books on the subject (some of which he authored himself) and encouraged me to record my own lucid dreams down into a journal. With the list in hand and Professor Morpheus's consent, I began my own personal experiment in lucid dreaming.

For the first few nights, there was only disappointment as I found myself only remembering certain dreams or waking up without any memory of dreaming at all. Nonetheless, I recorded my dreams (of those which I could remember) down in my journal and soon began to recognize a pattern in them. My dreams would usually start with me being enveloped in a brief moment of darkness before the dream played out in its entirety. The next few nights were more promising as I began to recognize when I had entered a dream but did not yet have the mental faculties to control it. I reported my progress to Professor Morpheus who remained supportive and encouraged me to continue on. Soon, not only did I become consciously aware of being in a dream but I had learned to control the dreams as well. In no time at all, I had total control over my dreams and could even choose when to trigger a lucid dream in a regular one. Professor Morpheus seemed overjoyed as I regaled him with accounts of my mastery over my own dreams. That was until that fateful day…

As of late, I became aware of a strange foreign presence within my dreams. I paid no attention to it initially as I had thought it a mere incongruity of the mind but as I continued my nightly lucid dreaming, it became apparent that it was something else entirely. Yet I remained indifferent as the foreign presence did little to significantly affect my dreams. When I reported about this strange presence to Professor Morpheus, his usual excited expression was quickly replaced with that of a fearful one. In an almost sudden change in character, he fervently told me to stop my lucid dream experiments. I questioned him on this unexpected change but he remained furtive of his reasons. So fearful was he that he made me swear to him to cease my nightly lucid dreaming. I simply obliged him but had no intention of stopping my experiments. On the contrary, his warning only served to heighten my curiosity and strengthen my resolve to continue the experiments. Oh how I wished I had listened then…

I began to realise something was terribly wrong when a mysterious street lamp began to appear in my dreams. A street lamp appearing in a dream is usually no cause for alarm. However, this particular street lamp always appeared at the very same spot in every one of my dreams; regardless of what the dream was about. The fact that I could not remove this street lamp from my dreams as much as I tried made the situation even more worrisome. Soon, moving shadows began to appear alongside the street lamp and I could feel the encroaching influence of that strange foreign presence I had previously ignored getting stronger. I tried seeking a solution to expunge this foreign presence from my dreams; repeating mantras to myself and even briefly stopped triggering lucid dreams. My efforts were all for naught, however, and I dared not ask my mentor for aid. And so, I slowly lost control of my dreams as the foreign influence grew stronger and stronger each night. My dreams were no longer my own and now were just nightmares created by this strange foreign presence. Yet, throughout this mental ordeal, I remained conscious within my dreams and I was granted a bit of respite knowing that I could wake up from the nightmare created by the strange presence. For when I was awake, I knew I was safe from its terrifying influence. But, as I discovered three nights ago, that is no longer the case.

I found myself once again enveloped in darkness; a clear indication that I was dreaming. Yet, the once familiar darkness felt so alien to me. I stood in the inky blackness; unable to move. Slowly, it manifested in front of me: a narrow street of cobblestones. Though I was very much aware and no matter how vehemently I resisted, my body was compelled to walk towards it. My legs moved on their own volition, each step bringing me closer to that accursed object that has remained a constant plague in all of my recent dreams. Soon, I found myself standing underneath the halo of the street lamp and try as I may, my body refused to move. Meanwhile, all around me the familiar shadows moved along the street. Suddenly, there was a bright flash of neon light. It was like a painful stab in my eyes as the light appeared to split the darkness. As my eyes became more accustomed, I managed to get a good look at the moving shadows. To my horror, I realised that not only were there ten thousand (maybe more) shadows on the street but the shadows were actually humanoid in shape. I say humanoid for although they had similar proportions to that of humans, their skin was grey as ash. However, what I found most horrifying was their face. The poor creatures had their eyes and mouths stitched shut and their ears looked to have been cleaved off. To be surrounded by these mutilated and wretched creatures was too much for my mind to bear and I must have regained some control over my body for I let out a horrified scream that echoed across the void. Yet none of the creatures took heed as they continued lumbering along the narrow street. Then slowly, one by one the humanoid beings turned to face the black sky. Likewise, I followed suit and what met my gaze would drive any sane man delirious. For what appeared in the pitch-black sky was a being that had no form and no mass but was surrounded by bright neon lights of a strange colour. I looked around as all the grey humanoid creatures simultaneously began to silently pray and bow towards this neon being; as if worshipping it as a god. The glowing deity gave off another flash of light which once again split the darkness. I reeled in pain as my mind was flooded with images of hieroglyphs and places that were alien to me. The mental assault proved too much to bear and I began screaming in anguish. Not a single sound came out. The neon deity continued to give off bursts of light while the grey humanoid creatures continued their silent worship. I stood underneath that street lamp, eyes open and mind fully conscious as I continued to scream in silence.

I do not know when I had awoken from that terrifying nightmare but all I knew was that my body was covered in cold sweat and my throat was hoarse the next morning. I was told by a fellow flatmate that he had heard me screaming the entire night. I assured my concerned peer that I was fine but inside I was deadly frightened. Who were those strange humanoids? And what was that neon being that they worshipped so passionately? And how is it that I felt a sense of familiarity to it? My mind was wrecked with questions as I made my way to the subway. Only Professor Morpheus could help me now. I stood amongst the commuters going about their daily business and allowed myself a brief moment of respite, relieved that I had managed to awaken from that terrifying nightmare. I genuinely felt safe knowing that I was far away from those wretched and horrifying creatures. Then I made the mistake of looking at the subway wall. I do not know the events that transpired after but from the various accounts of the other commuters, it seemed I had suddenly collapsed to the floor and was rushed to the nearest hospital where I had awoken. The doctor in charge attributed my condition to mental fatigue and prescribed me with some sleeping pills. I thanked the doctor and took my prescription but I had no intention of consuming those sleep-inducing drugs. For my mind was burned with the memory of the moment before my collapse: the strange alien hieroglyphs I had seen in my nightmare had appeared on the subway wall!

It has been two days since I locked myself in my room and started depriving myself of any sleep in fear of reliving that terrible nightmare. Going outside was no longer an option let alone seeking aid from Professor Morpheus as I began seeing more of the alien hieroglyphs everywhere I went. There was even that one terrifying instance when I mistook a complete stranger as one of those grey humanoid creatures. I can no longer tell the difference between dreams and reality, and I fear I am slowly losing my mind. The neon deity's influence is now affecting me even in the waking world. It is the early hours of the morning as I am writing this letter. I can already feel the darkness creeping in and I do not know if I can escape it this time. I have made the appropriate arrangements in preparation for my inevitable departure from this world. My dream journal, which is in the right drawer of my desk, is to be given to Professor Morpheus. He deserves to know of the fate of his foolish protégé so that he may warn others of it. And to whoever is reading this letter, let it serve as a warning. There are some things not meant for the fragile minds of Man! The darkness is here and I can barely see what I am writing. It has become quiet. Almost…

On September 13 1965, the police were called to the apartment of Patrick Wilson. His flatmate had reported that Patrick had not left his room for five days and had become concerned when he received no response after knocking on his door. Forcing themselves into the young psychology major's room, the police were shocked to discover the dead body of Patrick Wilson sitting at his desk. However, the police were more horrified by the way in which the young man had died. For the body of the late Patrick Wilson was a sickly ashen grey colour and his eyes and mouth appeared to be stitched shut. At the side of his head, where his ears should have been, were gaping holes; almost as if his ears were cleaved right off. In his cold grey hand, the police found a letter. The dream journal mentioned in said letter appeared to be missing from the right drawer of the desk. Somewhere in the building, a song by Simon and Garfunkel could be heard playing.