Entry 4

I seem to be able to remember my dreams, at least some of it. It always starts with me sitting in a run-down room, and it seems to be around midnight, although theres no way to tell. After a few minutes of just sitting, looking around, i hear a sound, possibly talking. Walking cautiously to the hallway, i just stick my head out of the door, looking up and down both ends of the narrow, dimly lit corridors. There doesnt seem to be anything, well, tangible, but a presence of sorts invades my mind, penetrating my deepest thoughts, almost probing my inner conscience. Deciding to run, and possibly to preserve the rest of what sanity i had left at that point. Taking a left, breathing deeply, raggedly, i take notice of the strangely clean left-hand wall, and the more dirty right one. Well, running for my life seemed more important at the time, and i had arrived in a room that did not seem to be ahead of me five seconds ago. I didnt dare to advance any farther, just standing in the doorway. In the center of the rather large room stands a giant, old fashioned, balance scale. Next to it on one side stands what looks like a modern interpretation of Anubis, the Egyptian god of death, and on the other, a mix between a hippopotamus, lion, and possibly an alligator? Or maybe a crocodile, who knows what the difference is. After a frighteningly awkward moment of stillness and silence, i gasp in immense pain as my chest glows a dark crimson red, and everything in front of me is bathed in that unholy color. I drop to my knees, then just drop, writhing in unbearable dream pain that makes it seem so real. The modern Anubis steps forward calmly, poker faced, and stops a foot from my pain wracked body. Reaching a hand toward the light, my beating heart phases through my lit chest, and gravitates toward his outstretched palm. He grasps it, and it appears on the set of scales, where the demon hybrid simply looks at it. Realizing the pain is no longer present, i get up to a kneel, watching the scene unfold before me. A feather, bathed in a golden light, is materialized onto the other side of the scale. My attention is turned on that hybrid beast, and his sights are set on me as the once gold feather turns that crimson color, and he charges me. My vision becomes a blur, and it all fades to black, where i wake to another day of suffering this burden.

Entry 3

I spend my nights plagued by thoughts that aren’t mine, thoughts that are planted inside my head by something. inside of my head are thoughts racing, something about “gifts” and “retrieve the night,” weird stuff like that. Being who i am, its only natural to: a) not do what it says, especially when i don’t understand it, and b) to ignore it to the best of my ability. I wish i knew more of what my life, my very existence, means, and why I was chosen to be a part of whatever this is. Research will be done, and I have the entirety of the internet to do so.

Entry 2

I believe that there is multiple levels of understanding, or perhaps its perception with the third eye. The more shallow end of it is more like choosing to be unaware of the spectral/paranormal planes of reality. While being unaware in this instance is not ignorance, it could be seen as “going with the flow” of the beliefs of the realists in this world. While the “realists” would dismiss what i have to say, the other group, more open minded and “gifted” creatures would know what i mean. Or, at least, they would consider what i have to say, maybe even connect to it at some level. Whether you can accept these strange facts that i spout is your decision, but i write this as a warning or a survival to those who even bother with these words.

Entry 1

As of now I’m keeping a journal of these things that haunt me. As the days pass, and time drifts ever so slowly forward, i find it hard to imagine normal life. The kind we all possess at the beginning. Most individuals who move through their life, whether just getting by or living it large, never really learn why we exist. And a large portion of those creatures never even begin to fathom as to why they were even wished into existence. They’re so absorbed by the mundane tasks that their life puts forth that existence isn’t even a blip on the star map that is their minds. But there is a chosen few of us who walk the halls of confusion and understanding. Who stumble through the gates of creation and destruction. Who even begin to, dare i say, stroll through the neighborhood park that very well may be God’s mind. The few of you, who i have just mentioned, are cursed. They bear a great weight of knowledge that is not meant for mere mortals to even begin to have an inkling of. What i speak of is what haunts me. It haunts all of us, whether we know it or not, but the curse is strong among those who know.