04/10/86
Good night? What was I thinking – I can't believe I fell asleep! And I SAW him. I swear I JUST saw him. He was in my dream – it could not have been anyone else. I don't remember anything that happened; I don't know what he did to me. But there is sand in my hair, and I don't know how it got there, and I am bleeding.
What is he doing to me? No, that's absurd. He was in my dream. He couldn't affect my reality. He has no power over me, I don't believe in him and it is all finished. I must have done it myself somehow.
What am I doing to myself? And how? There was blood on my hand when I woke up, some kind of scratches on the palm of my hand. And there was a rose on the floor, next to my bed. I don't know where it came from, either.
What is happening? Could I have been sleep walking? I don't know anything anymore. I think I'm awake now, but for all I know this could be a dream too.
I am hallucinating. Hallucinating.
This is all a hallucination.
I'll be OK.
I'll just turn on some lights and check the time and make some tea and everything will be fine. If I can just put this pen down. And stop writing.
Its nearly 3 in the morning, and there's still no sign of my parents.
I should probably check the phone messages.
Yes, they're alive. They decided to stay at a friend's house, and left me a message at 2:30 am. How very considerate of them. Well, now that I know they're ok, I guess I can go to bed . . . but I'm not really that tired . . . at all.
And I don't think I ever want to sleep again.
So, what better way to pass the time than to read all that I've already written, and see what kind of sense I can make of it . . . I doubt it will be much . . .
A question pops into my mind and has been worrying me ever since I reread all of my notes. Did I really solve The Labyrinth? At first, it seemed so bizarre, I didn't even want to write it down, but on the other hand, since I have decided to trust all of my random thoughts and questions to a piece of paper . . . I guess I really can't stop now, huh?
So, did I? It would seem to be so, but then – I keep thinking that I was always given help. In any situation. I thought that I found the right way, that my determination helped me through, but now, I'm not so sure . . . I feel as though someone was constantly pushing me in the right direction – giving me the right tools, so to speak . . .
Take the worm, for example – he helped me see all the openings at the precise moment I had lost my self to despair and had, I'm ashamed to write it, but I realize it now – given up. In the oubliette, Hoggle turned up just in time to get me out . . . Ludo was a great help in all my situations, with his stone-calling talent, and where did he ever come from? And in the junk pile – why did my little red book turn up just when it did, to remind me of my quest? Luck? I doubt it! But then who was helping me? And why?
I don't know! Don't understand anything anymore! I didn't even solve The Labyrinth on my own! I didn't! I'm sure of it now! And yet the Goblin King still kept his promise . . . Why? I'm sure he knew of it too . . How very strange . . . He was the one who was always so unfair, so cruel to me . . . He wanted me to loose, and there was his chance – his chance to keep Toby, to have everything the way he wanted it to be . . . and yet, he didn't take it . . . WHY? He let me win, didn't he? No, he hated me too much for that . . . besides that would screw up all of his plans . . . so . . . what really happened?
Oh, I don't get it! My head is spinning from all these knew thoughts, I really can't write anymore, and besides my parents have just pulled up, so I'd better hide this . . .