Why the hell am I'm blogging anyway?
It's been few months since I bothered putting down anything in this forsaken desolation of a media outlet. I don't know why. In fact I don't know why I'm actually typing anything right now. I suppose there is a bit of me that wants to celebrate the demise of a tepid winter, one more chalk mark on the prison walls of my life.
I've been keeping my head pretty low these days. I've been keeping my E-eyes peeled for any relevant info. Sites like this and this. Not too much I can learn here, but it's nice to see what the hell is going on in the world. Frankly, as much as I dislike their buffoonery, I doubt Scientologists murdered my brother.
You see the thing is, most of these 'cults' are just gatherings of fanatics posturing behind some enigmatic figure. They are all the same; simply followers of humanity's personality obsession. The thing is there are some people out there whose motives lie along different paths. Paths marked by the implaccable movement of the stars or the deep rumblings that lie beneath the ancient hypoborean waves.
I digress.
There hasn't been much notable news lately and I might need to pursue other avenues in order to gain some clarity into the past few years. I've got to find out what started this hellish chain reaction; at least as much as my family is concerned. Somehow I feel that it is all much larger and insidious that I originally imagined.
I've started having dreams again. I haven't had these types of dreams since my sister-in-law was still around. I had hoped I'd gotten past that time in my life. I think that it might be due to the fact that I've lessened up on the drinking, but whatever the cause, I'm starting to think that sleep might be a luxury I can do without.
The dreams always seem to begin the same: I am tied to a stone table. My head has been shaved. I can feel a twinge of pain where wax has been dripped on my chest, yet I can't see it because my head is fastened securely to the table. The ceiling coalesces above me; it's incense. The incense is pungent and seems to reek of decay. I can't place my finger on the scent.
In the past a low hum of chanting voices would oscilate slowly at my feet. I can't remeber what the words were, but the chant existed as a treacherous dichotomy both profoundly disturbing in pure disymmetry and anxiety, yet oddly compeling in regularity and swelling. It was as if the human voice were being twisted and drowned by the ancient patterns of the sea. The voices would start as harsh raspy whispers and cresendo into a gutteral undulating wail. They would not act in unison but in a sort of controlled anarchy; it was maddening. This would last longer than I felt my sanity could withstand repeating over and over, until I began to hallucinate.
In my past dreams the chanting would evaporate into the crashing of waves against some ancient pitted craig. Visions would form in the mists above me. Visions of dismembered bodies being tossed piecemeal into the briney crests where frothing unseen mouths devoured them like carp to bred crumbs. Sometimes the bodies were my friends or family; sometimes they were children. Occasionally animals were used. Nausea would wash over me and just as the bile hit my tongue a voice would whisper something in my ear, my bonds would be severed and something cold , cylindrical, and heavy would be pressed in my hand. Then I would wake up. God, it's all so vivid...
What is different now is the intensity of the dreams. I feel myself on the slab, but there is no chanting. I hear the waves pounding but see no horrific visions. The voice whipers to me, but my bonds remain. Now the voice is unmistakeable; it says, "soon." When I wake, the smell of incense and sea water seem to fill my room. I'm not very happy about all of this. I don't think it can mean anything good.
I guess I know why I'm writing my tonight. I have a bad feeling about the coming weeks. It's probably best to be very cautious.
I've been keeping my head pretty low these days. I've been keeping my E-eyes peeled for any relevant info. Sites like this and this. Not too much I can learn here, but it's nice to see what the hell is going on in the world. Frankly, as much as I dislike their buffoonery, I doubt Scientologists murdered my brother.
You see the thing is, most of these 'cults' are just gatherings of fanatics posturing behind some enigmatic figure. They are all the same; simply followers of humanity's personality obsession. The thing is there are some people out there whose motives lie along different paths. Paths marked by the implaccable movement of the stars or the deep rumblings that lie beneath the ancient hypoborean waves.
I digress.
There hasn't been much notable news lately and I might need to pursue other avenues in order to gain some clarity into the past few years. I've got to find out what started this hellish chain reaction; at least as much as my family is concerned. Somehow I feel that it is all much larger and insidious that I originally imagined.
I've started having dreams again. I haven't had these types of dreams since my sister-in-law was still around. I had hoped I'd gotten past that time in my life. I think that it might be due to the fact that I've lessened up on the drinking, but whatever the cause, I'm starting to think that sleep might be a luxury I can do without.
The dreams always seem to begin the same: I am tied to a stone table. My head has been shaved. I can feel a twinge of pain where wax has been dripped on my chest, yet I can't see it because my head is fastened securely to the table. The ceiling coalesces above me; it's incense. The incense is pungent and seems to reek of decay. I can't place my finger on the scent.
In the past a low hum of chanting voices would oscilate slowly at my feet. I can't remeber what the words were, but the chant existed as a treacherous dichotomy both profoundly disturbing in pure disymmetry and anxiety, yet oddly compeling in regularity and swelling. It was as if the human voice were being twisted and drowned by the ancient patterns of the sea. The voices would start as harsh raspy whispers and cresendo into a gutteral undulating wail. They would not act in unison but in a sort of controlled anarchy; it was maddening. This would last longer than I felt my sanity could withstand repeating over and over, until I began to hallucinate.
In my past dreams the chanting would evaporate into the crashing of waves against some ancient pitted craig. Visions would form in the mists above me. Visions of dismembered bodies being tossed piecemeal into the briney crests where frothing unseen mouths devoured them like carp to bred crumbs. Sometimes the bodies were my friends or family; sometimes they were children. Occasionally animals were used. Nausea would wash over me and just as the bile hit my tongue a voice would whisper something in my ear, my bonds would be severed and something cold , cylindrical, and heavy would be pressed in my hand. Then I would wake up. God, it's all so vivid...
What is different now is the intensity of the dreams. I feel myself on the slab, but there is no chanting. I hear the waves pounding but see no horrific visions. The voice whipers to me, but my bonds remain. Now the voice is unmistakeable; it says, "soon." When I wake, the smell of incense and sea water seem to fill my room. I'm not very happy about all of this. I don't think it can mean anything good.
I guess I know why I'm writing my tonight. I have a bad feeling about the coming weeks. It's probably best to be very cautious.
posted by the search at 10:50 PM
1 comments
