|
Discussion: Real Scary & Creepy Stories Thread
Member Since: 8/7/2015
Posts: 8,751
|
Oh my God. I just read this entire thread. That JC gif, bitch I SCREAMED. This thread...
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/7/2015
Posts: 8,937
|
OF COURSE i would read this thread RIGHT before i go to bed
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/31/2013
Posts: 5,259
|
Quote:
Originally posted by genetic fail
|
Oh my god this was too much. It was so descriptive. I knew the smell. I knew the voice. So scary.
|
|
|
Member Since: 3/2/2014
Posts: 72
|
Here's my story. Well, in fact it is my mother's. She works as a nurse at a hospital, and sometimes she has to stay overnight for her shift. The hospitals in my country are often overcrowded, and the patient's family has to wait in the hallway filled with only one or two benches. Therefore their families often have to lie down to the ground with a mat or something. One night she saw two little boys standing next to the balcony. It was pretty dangerous so she took them to her room and gave them some water. My mom asked where's their mother and they said she was sleeping. Then she asked whether they were visiting/what happened to their mother. The smaller boy pointed to the other "I'm visiting my little brother". And the other one said "he's here".
My mom works for pediatrics department and get used to the nonsense things that the kids always say so she didn't think of anything weird. 10 minutes later she reached to the closet to grab a mat and a blanket for them, but when she turned around, they were gone. The hallway was silent, like a dead stone.
In the following morning she discovered that there was one boy died last night. And he had an older brother, who died a year ago. And the worst part? Some nurses were saying that their family is cursed. Because of all the children from their family, the boy who had died in the previous night was the last one.
Sorry for my bad English
|
|
|
Member Since: 11/22/2009
Posts: 11,092
|
Quote:
Originally posted by iByakuya
Here's my story. Well, in fact it is my mother's. She works as a nurse at a hospital, and sometimes she has to stay overnight for her shift. The hospitals in my country are often overcrowded, and the patient's family has to wait in the hallway filled with only one or two benches. Therefore their families often have to lie down to the ground with a mat or something. One night she saw two little boys standing next to the balcony. It was pretty dangerous so she took them to her room and gave them some water. My mom asked where's their mother and they said she was sleeping. Then she asked whether they were visiting/what happened to their mother. The smaller boy pointed to the other "I'm visiting my little brother". And the other one said "he's here".
My mom works for pediatrics department and get used to the nonsense things that the kids always say so she didn't think of anything weird. 10 minutes later she reached to the closet to grab a mat and a blanket for them, but when she turned around, they were gone. The hallway was silent, like a dead stone.
In the following morning she discovered that there was one boy died last night. And he had an older brother, who died a year ago. And the worst part? Some nurses were saying that their family is cursed. Because of all the children from their family, the boy who had died in the previous night was the last one.
Sorry for my bad English
|
|
|
|
Member Since: 1/1/2014
Posts: 2,534
|
This thread omg what is this?
|
|
|
Member Since: 4/25/2011
Posts: 41,661
|
Okay, so I tried to shrug this out before but I can't take the **** anymore.
I sleep with my blanket all the time, what's weird is I have been waking up randomly within the past couple of weeks cold and when I try to reach for my blanket (which is not covering me anymore) I always find it beside me folded like I didn't use it.
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/19/2013
Posts: 11,585
|
|
|
|
ATRL Contributor
Member Since: 1/1/2014
Posts: 22,126
|
Quote:
Originally posted by jomarr
Okay, so I tried to shrug this out before but I can't take the **** anymore.
I sleep with my blanket all the time, what's weird is I have been waking up randomly within the past couple of weeks cold and when I try to reach for my blanket (which is not covering me anymore) I always find it beside me folded like I didn't use it.
|
Noo that's some scary ish right here
|
|
|
Member Since: 6/4/2012
Posts: 12,838
|
I have some creepy stories but my english is really bad so...
|
|
|
Member Since: 4/10/2012
Posts: 14,915
|
Quote:
Originally posted by Typhlosion
I have some creepy stories but my english is really bad so...
|
At least try
|
|
|
Member Since: 3/8/2011
Posts: 3,432
|
I think I saw two dead women in a mirror once
I was about 10 and I came out of my bedroom to go to the bathroom, I think I was washing my hands or something because I left the bathroom door open, anyways I looked in the mirror and there were these two women standing in the doorway of my bedroom (it's opposite the bathroom), they both seemed to be covered in blood and their hair matted together. I screamed and my mum was in her bedroom but they vanished.
In the same house but in a different bedroom 3 years ago, I woke in the middle of the night to find a dark shadow standing over my bed, I screamed and it went.
I've seen a few unexplained things like the rest of my family. My mum used to live in this really old house which had crazy **** going on but she doesn't really like speaking about it.
|
|
|
Member Since: 3/8/2011
Posts: 3,432
|
My brother used to work in security at this disused naval base a few years ago. Basically he would have to go to the site check it and lock up. Lots of stuff happened to him there, lights would go on and off (they were just ordinary lights not time controlled/motion sensor), papers were once flung in a hallway, doors opened by themselves, footsteps in the hallway, one time he said he heard someone keep whispering his name. That freaked me out because I didn't want it following him home back to us
The place is supposedly haunted, and workers have experienced all sorts there.
|
|
|
Member Since: 1/6/2014
Posts: 11,333
|
The New House
Quote:
We bought an old house, my boyfriend and I. He’s in charge of the “new” construction – converting the kitchen in to the master bedroom for instance, while I’m on wallpaper removal duty. The previous owner papered EVERY wall and CEILING! Removing it is brutal, but oddly satisfying. The best feeling is getting a long peel, similar to your skin when you're peeling from a sunburn. I don't know about you but I kinda make a game of peeling, on the hunt for the longest piece before it rips.
Under a corner section of paper in every room is a person’s name and a date. Curiosity got the best of me one night when I Googled one of the names and discovered the person was actually a missing person, the missing date matching the date under the wallpaper! The next day, I made a list of all the names and dates. Sure enough each name was for a missing person with dates to match. We notified the police who naturally sent out the crime scene team.
I overhead one tech say “yup, it’s human.” Human? What’s human?
“Ma’am, where is the material you removed from the walls already? This isn’t wallpaper you were removing.”
|
I hate it when my brother has to go away
Quote:
I hate it when my brother Poot has to go away.
My parents constantly try to explain to me how sick he is. That I am lucky for having a brain where all the chemicals flow properly to their destinations like undammed rivers. When I complain about how bored I am without a little brother to play with, they try to make me feel bad by pointing out that his boredom likely far surpasses mine, considering his confine to a dark room in an institution.
I always beg for them to give him one last chance. Of course, they did at first. Poot has been back home several times, each shorter in duration than the last. Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighbourhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad's razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom's vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets. My parents are hesitant now, using "last chances" sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him.
I hate it when Poot has to go away. It makes me have to pretend to be good until he is back.
|
Seeing Red
Quote:
Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. It's a day full of potential and hope, before all the dreary depressions of reality show up to ruin all the fun.
I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can...sense a sort of aura around them. A colored outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left.
A fair amount of them have a yellow-orangish tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a car crash or some other tragedy. Anything that takes people "before their time" as they say.
The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I'll see someone who's basically a walking stoplight. Those are the ones who get murdered or kill themselves. It's such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered.
With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates' fates. The first kid who walked in was basically radiating red. I chuckled to myself. Too damn bad, bro. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my rose-tinted reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green.
|
These are old af but maybe they get new life into this thread
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/7/2015
Posts: 8,751
|
Not this thread getting bumped now that I'm all alone in my house. NOT today Satan.
|
|
|
ATRL Contributor
Member Since: 1/1/2014
Posts: 22,126
|
gonna read the new stories that have been posted and get all snugly in my blanket
Quote:
Originally posted by Pozeidon
NOT today Satan.
|
yes today
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/7/2015
Posts: 1,709
|
Quote:
Originally posted by Teneo
The New House
I hate it when my brother has to go away
Seeing Red
These are old af but maybe they get new life into this thread
|
|
|
|
ATRL Contributor
Member Since: 1/1/2014
Posts: 22,126
|
Quote:
Originally posted by Teneo
The New House
Seeing Red
These are old af but maybe they get new life into this thread
|
omg the first and the second one omg
|
|
|
Member Since: 8/7/2015
Posts: 5,055
|
BUMP
|
|
|
Member Since: 3/15/2013
Posts: 10,338
|
pt.1
Quote:
My name is Ramiel, and I want you to read this right before you go to sleep. Trust me, it’s better this way.
If it’s the middle of the day for you or perhaps you’re not quite tired yet, bookmark this and read it when your eyes are starting to itch with tiredness, but you’re not nodding off yet. I don’t want you to forget what you’re about to read.
I’m on the tall, skinny side of my arabic family, I guess I take after my mom in that respect. Though i’m pretty sure she didn’t have this much facial hair. She named me after an angel that is responsible for “divine visions”. I wonder if she knew how right on the money she was.
Why does my name and physical features matter? I suppose it doesn’t, but if I’m going to share something this personal with strangers for help or some kind of catharsis, i’d rather you had a good idea of who I am and not just a blank slate.
I don’t want you to forget me when this is over.
Before we begin, here’s an interesting fact to wrap your head around: Your brain produces extremely high amounts of a psychedelic compound called DMT (Dimethyltryptamine) two times in your life; Once when you are born to help cope with the pressure it puts on your fragile, infant body during the painful process of birth and once again when you are seconds from dying to ease the burden it puts on your body and mind as they both shut down for the very last time. This is often why people claim to see their loved ones who have long passed on by their side, bright lights from the sky or feelings of elation.
This process is so strong that it has the capabilities to erase everything in your mind, like a mass wipe of your hard drive. Now you might think that isn’t too important if you’re just starting out your life or simultaneously moments away from it coming to an end, but I ask you to entertain the notion that you possess a soul or an inner essence of sorts; what if that soul, that consciousness, that essence of you simply continued on without the knowledge of a past existence? What if at the moment of death, you saw something so undeniably horrifying and inconceivable, something you’d only seen in fleeting dreams and nightmares throughout your life, that your brain compensates in the only way it knows how, by erasing any prior memory of it before allowing what makes you “you” continue onto the next stage of whatever is out there. Your brains last failsafe, a defence mechanism to ensure you won’t carry the burden with you. But like any kind of defence mechanism, there’s always a bypass...and there’s always a black box.
DMT is a chemical produced by your pineal gland and it is responsible for us dreaming every single night. Not the reason, however. We have no idea why we dream, we just do. As soon we enter REM sleep, our dreams become their most memorable and malleable. It is at this point we have dreams which take proper form, that we feel most real and perceive to be the most accessible, though we seldom ever remember the dream itself. Because like a drug trip, our brain is determined to protect us from that experience...but what if that wasn’t the only reason?
Consider this; The older we get, we sleep considerably less hours. As babies, we sleep for up to 14 hours and by the time we hit 18 years old, it’s half of that amount. What if this is a defence mechanism our brain develops so that we don’t spend too long in “that realm”? No, i’m not talking about “the further” from Insidious or some kind of Nightmare on Elm Street knockoff, before your already horror obsessed minds make some kind of parable to an existing franchise for comfort or relatable aspects. You’re still very much within your own mind, but there’s something else there with you.
Now I ask you to suspend all beliefs or non-beliefs and read on to hear my story and why I no longer sleep and why, despite being an Atheist, I pray to something, to anything, (hell even Hypnos would be a welcome evil right now) that should my mind succumb to sleep and my body fail me, that I don’t dream.
I’m a counsellor at my local university, I took on the job in September of last year as a ditch effort to bump up my resume and to reduce rent through living on the campus. It was your usual run of the mill kind of work, talk to terrified 1st years who’d never lived away from home before and were simply not used to their newfound freedom, dealing with homesickness, new friendships, one night stands etc. The 2nd years were dealing with social troubles within their houses/apartments, deadlines mounting and the occasional unplanned pregnancy. The final year students were typically near breakdown over their dissertations and end of year exams, so you’d offer them all the appropriate advice, your own experiences at the university as an example and then ultimately hope it all sinks in. If not, well there’s always next week and beyond that, a private therapist.
But, like all forms of employment that deal with face to face interactions, there’s always one encounter you never forget. For me, that was Milo Moraga, a 2nd year student studying Psychology & Philosophy. The first time he came into my office, he struck me as a little bit gaunt, his striped long-sleeve top hanging off him like it’d stretched in the wash. Strung out, but shy. That would have been my first impression. I think he sensed my preconceived notions, avoiding making eye contact with me as he shuffled inside. He was apprehensive, sleep deprived, his hair greasy under a black beanie and his eyes laden with heavy dark bags underneath like someone had put on eyeliner while he slept. He sat down, glancing around at the windows and leant forward, cracking his knuckles and rubbing his hands over one another hastily.
“Hello Milo, how can I help you? I understand you asked for this appointment because of...anxiety? Do you want to tell me about that?”
I looked through the brief set of notes the receptionist gave me and tried to study as best I could while he spoke. Nothing that would ultimately help me ascertain the problem, it just gave him time to compose himself.
He didn’t respond, just kept shuffling in his chair, I guess he wasn’t 100% sure he should come here.
“Your lecturer sent you here, didn’t they?” I said bluntly, feeling a slight headache come on as I felt an awkward 30 minute session rearing it’s ugly, monotonous head.
He nodded, but I noticed something in that moment that made me think there was more to it. His expression was almost like he was pleading for his life as he quickly nodded.
I leaned forward, placing my hands under my chin and up to my lips as I observed him, I had to be very careful with how I handled this. If he was suicidal, one wrong statement could leave him with a noose round his neck.
“Milo, what happened in the classroom to get you here? Can you tell me that much?”
He mimicked me, leaning forward as well, though his posture was the furthest parallel from my own, it looked like his spirit was broken.
“The lecturer...Ms Armstrong...she was talking about solipsism and I just got...lost within it. Do you know what solipsism is?”
I did, but I shook my head. I didn’t want to interrupt him when he was being so open.
“It’s a philosophical belief that everything an individual perceives is only in his own mind, it is a construct of his own psyche. There is no other human beings, no other individual thoughts, just his or her own...I guess I found the idea kinda comforting and I broke down.”
I raised an eyebrow, that’s certainly not a usual response.
“Comforting, Milo? You mean to say you enjoy being alone & isolated?”
“No, the opposite actually, I have a lovely group of friends, a loving family and a fiancé, but it was comforting for another reason...if It’s just me, then what hurts me is just me, I know what i’m capable of and it makes any kinds of threats a moot point. It means that..that...”
He put his hands up to his mouth and began crying silently, the picture of this situation was getting uglier and murkier the more he explained.
“It means that I might not die after all.”
I rolled up my sleeves, my flannel shirt was already beginning to chafe me. First signs of stress, I suppose. I looked down at my charm bracelet my wife brought me and took in a deep breath. I knew this was going to be rough.
“It’s...it’s my dreams, doc. There’s something in my dreams. I can’t sleep anymore. Each time I do, it’s like I can sense i’m going into that place again, journeying deeper into the void with every evening. I’ve tried taking coffee, **** loads of red bull and any cheap ass energy drinks I can get my hands on...I even took those pills truckers take so they can stay wired for 18 hours, but...well you know the problem, right doc?” He looked down and started rubbing his hands together again, his knee bouncing as he struggled to keep it under control.
Withdrawal symptoms combined with sleep deprivation, this kid was getting more tweaked by the minute.
“The problem being that we all have to sleep eventually, no matter how long we put it off.” I exhaled. “Milo, I want you to start at the beginning, I know you’re anxious to get some kind of help, but if I don’t know the route of the problem, I can’t give you the correct advice, okay? Now I want you take in 3 deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Can you do that for me? And you don’t need to call me ‘doc’, i’m just a volunteer counsellor. You can call me ‘Rami’ if you like?”
He nodded and did as instructed, his demeanour improving slightly with each successive inhale, though this was hardly a permanent solution to his paranoia. I didn’t want to ask at this point how long he’d been awake for, but I could tell it’d been more than a handful of days. Once an individual goes past the 3 day mark, they will begin to lose their grip on sanity and brain cells will start to die. I was silently hoping I could find out the problem to this sooner rather than later.
“Alright” I picked up my laptop to take notes. “Go ahead, tell me what started this all off.”
What follows is the unedited conversation, this is verbatim what was said between the two of us. If I can find the audio recording later, I will attach it to the post.
“Do you know much about lucid dreaming, Rami?”
“I know a little, just that it’s something practiced and allows for complete control of the dream by the dreamer.”
He nods before continuing.
“There’s a learning curve to it, you need to lie in bed and shut out all outside sounds and impulses. The typical things really, the sensation to scratch your arm, to roll over, to block out the voices.”
He stopped and stared at me with fear. “I didn’t mean to tell you that...”
“It’s alright, we’ll get to it later, let’s just focus on the why and not the how for the moment. What made you decide to lucid dream in the first place?”
He shifted in his chair and suddenly looked very timid.
“I kept seeing him in my dreams, at first he’d just be a random appearance and then he’d start to try and approach me, friendly smile and hand outstretched like he was greeting an old friend. Never threatening or hostile, just attempting to make contact with me. Though he’d never get to. Every single time, i’d be distracted by something at the last second or my dream would veer off in another direction.”
He shifted in his seat and closed his eyes before continuing.
“I remember in the first few dreams we had, he’d just be lingering in the background. If I was walking through a street, he’d just be standing with the crowd my brain created and not really reacting to anything but me. I’d see him watch me, but then my dream would shift and I guess i’d just ignore it and carry on...after a few weeks, I began getting better at controlling my dreams. I’d start to mess around with the world I was inhabiting, like Inception I guess but more...personal. I’d turn myself into a member of X-Men or i’d go on a date with my perfect woman, y’know...things that you can only dream of, literally...well that’s when he started to become more apparent. I’d usually wake up before he actually got too close, but I’d always remember the look on his face before I did.” His eyes widened. “He always looked so angry...”
“Former abuse victim?” I thought, adding it to the list of potential issues and solutions. I didn’t want to stop him while he was on a roll. I nodded to show my attentiveness and he continued.
“I still remember the first time he managed to speak to me. I was in a park i’d visited as a child with my mother. It was a small piece of heaven in London back then, a mental safe haven when things got too stressful I guess. But this was nothing like I remembered it, the trees weren’t trees, they were corpses stacked on top of one another, some overlapping and...meshing with one another in unspeakable positions to form branches. I could feel the atmosphere almost turn to pure disgust as they noticed me, unable to move or even speak to me. But their eyes, their eyes said everything. Because at first they fixated on me with hatred, then quickly away in sheer terror. They’d seen something far more terrifying than the fate they were already suffering...so...I...”
His eyes welled up with tears, unblinking as they streamed down his face. “I looked, Rami. I looked and saw him standing some 40 feet away down the path, his head bowed. He wasn’t moving and yet he was. His body was almost...rippling. The closest way I can describe it is the way a signal on a TV channel in the old days used to bend and flicker when the signal was weak. Every time I blinked, he came closer. I tried for the longest time to not blink, really...I did. But the brain betrays your conscious impulses. The more you try to put off a basic function, the more your brain wills you to do it. When he was 10 feet away, he simply vanished. By the time I had registered that he was gone, I heard a whisper in my ear...he was standing right behind me, I could feel his breath on my neck. Rami...it didn’t feel human.”
There was an awkward silence, he took in some deep breaths and shuddered. Obviously reliving the memory wasn’t going to be something pleasant for him but...the way he reacted, it was like he truly had experienced this. I stared at him, nodding and silently encouraging him to continue. When he didn’t, I leaned forward and quietly asked him what i’m sure he was waiting me to ask;
“What did he say to you, Milo?”
Milo shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. That was when the dream ended. I didn’t see him again in my dreams for a while.”
We talked for a little while longer, mainly about his anxieties in crowds and eye contact, then our time came to an end and we scheduled an appointment for the following week.
This would be our last session together. It was a Monday morning and i’d just come back from a friends wedding, my wife and I had been drinking so by the time I got to the office I was nursing a hangover, my flannel shirt covering the bruises i’d sustained falling over and my best pair of jeans smeared in alcohol. It was a day my mind was not in the work, I suppose. I just wanted to get home and go to sleep.
Milo came in earlier than planned, he looked desperate. He was pulling at his hair, biting his fingernails and pacing constantly. It didn’t look like he’d seen any sleep at all. I sent a text to my colleague asking for security to come over as soon as possible. He was going to need to be sectioned for his own safety. How on earth he’d managed to go this long without his friends or fiancee doing something is beyond me.
“I remember what he said, Rami. I remember it clearly now.” He said between pants and more nail biting.
“Okay, Milo. Well why don’t you take a seat and we’ll talk it out?”
He ignored that, but stopped pacing and stared intently at me.
“I’ll be right here, always.” He put his arms around himself, a self defence mechanism when a persons personal space has been violated.
“That was what he said. I heard it again and again every time I closed my eyes.”
He started bashing at his temples. “IT WON’T. ****ING. STOP.”
All I could do at this point was try to keep him talking and calm until security got here.
“Did this make you afraid to dream, Milo?”
He started laughing, his face showing the complete opposite of his vocal expression. Pure incredulity and fear on his face against the guttural sound of his manic laughter. “You don’t get it, do you? He didn’t mean just when I dream. He meant always. Now I know...now I know for sure.”
He took a deep breath in and his demeanour shifted, he suddenly looked like a man almost at peace. Not content but willing to let go.
“Thanks for listening Doc, sharing this with someone was important to me...and to him. He’s going to have his work cut out for him i’m sure.”
And just like that, he got up and left. I followed him out, naturally concerned for him. I watched him leave the building and cross the road.
Then he did something I won’t ever forget.
He turned to me, smiling and outstretched his hand, crying openly as a vehicle struck him. I didn’t even see it coming, I was so captivated by his expression.
I couldn’t even bring myself to go over to his body, I gave my statement and went straight home. All I could do was look in the mirror, wondering what it was that was bothering me so much about how I looked and why Milo outstretching his hand was so disturbing to me. When I looked at myself, I didn’t see a 6’0 150lb brown coloured hipster. I saw someone troubled, someone who didn’t look like they’d slept much lately, someone like Milo...
I got a phone call from the hospital later on that evening, Milo was in a coma and on life support. He was non-responsive and likely brain dead. His family were choosing to keep his life support on in lieu of their religious and moral views. I think deep down, they just didn’t want to let him go. I’d been asked to go into his apartment with a member of his family to see if there was anything to indicate why he would willingly stand in front of oncoming traffic.
I won’t bore you with the traveling details, but his apartment was surprising. I was half expecting a filthy, run down place filled with half eaten food and human waste given his obsessive and unstable state. Guess I just watched too many detective/horror movies growing up.
His place was immaculate, everything was extremely clean and organised, he’d already packed up a lot of his material possessions into boxes with names on the front, this was already beginning to look like premeditation.
He had a desk beside his bed, this was the only place in his room that showed any signs of his lack of sanity rubbing off on his living conditions. Books on demonology, the science of sleeping, DMT, some sleeping pills and a journal.
His brother went through the boxes while I took a look at the journal (i’ll include photos later if I get permission from the family, names have been changed and anything too personal will of course be blurred out). It initially contained legible, competent insights into his nightly journeys as he began to lucid dream. But as this other entity began to make himself more known and aware, the content shifts and the writing becomes hastily scrawled, certain words appear larger than others, he questions himself on numerous occasions and draws the mans face more frequently as the journal comes to it’s end.
The final entry is barely legible, but it details a conversation he had with the man in his dream and that a reminder that he would be with him always. After this, there is just a single word on the hardback of the journal, rewritten over and over, almost like it’s been carved in.
“DREAM.”
Which brings us to the final part of this story; the present. I’m sure you’d all love to discover i’m actually cursed or that this story will follow some typical archetype of horror shorts and i’m moments away from death, passing on a final message. But as i’m sure you’re all coming to realise, that is not the case.
I just woke up from a lucid dream, i’ve never had one before nor do I know how I had one, but it was definitely a lucid dream. I was able to control my reality, my own physical form and everything around me. It was here I saw Milo. He approached me slowly and before I could even say anything, he asked me a favour;
“Pull the plug, let me die.”
I was so taken aback that my rational thought process dissipated and for a moment, I wondered...was this perhaps a shared dream?
“I can’t take the torture anymore, Rami. Please tell my family I love them, but I need to be let go.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to suffer anymore in the real world, i’ll do what I can to convince them.” I croaked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Milo’s smile faded.
“I’m not talking about the torture there, Rami. I’m talking about the torture here...without being able to wake up, he has complete control. I’m his new puppet and he wants to play forever. He has no physical form, this is where he resides. This is where he plays.” He looked over my shoulder and back at me, with a sad smile on his face. “Now, he’s chosen you as his new playmate. He knows you’re going to take my place. Look at my journal again, look at the drawings, you’ll need to remember.”
He turned to walk away, leaving me feeling completely helpless in my own lucid dream.
“Oh and Rami...don’t turn around.”
I didn’t, but my entire being was willing me to. It’s that same feeling of anxiety you get when you’re home alone at night and you have the feeling something is watching you. A crushing, horrifying feeling. I woke up in a cold sweat and did as he said, I looked over the journal and in addition to scanning the drawings, I found a theory Milo had documented in between the pages of his journal;
“An idea is manifested through suggestive stories and cultural signifiers, we can plant ourselves, a character or a concept into our subconscious and our dreams with enough hints both subversive and subliminal. An idea, be it malicious or noble, can grow and manifest in one mind before being shared to the masses through any kind of information supplement.”
The second section detailed a supporting theory;
“Within every story told, fictitious or semi-biographical, exists a universe that we have created that is as real as our own. For how can we truly know if our reality is more valid than the one we have created? How can we truly know we have not just been added into a story of our own by a neutral writer we know as “god”? This reality is as malleable and relevant as the one within which we dream. Our dream world or “coma world” it can be argued, are the realities and our concept of reality is but a dream in itself that our brain creates to escape the chaos, uncertainty and pain of our dreams.”
You’re probably painting a very good picture of what is happening right now.
I’ve attached an image of the man in this story and i’m sure you’re all familiar with him. If you are, you’ll understand why i’ve done this. Why i've made you aware. There is no Ramiel, that name is a subliminal plant in itself, it means “Dreamer” in Arabic. I described him perfectly for you as a defence mechanism against what is going to happen in the coming weeks, months and years. I gave you plenty of physical aspects for your brain to put together, you only know a basic layer of who he is so that your brain can put in the key elements which will make you trust him.
You know, it's funny, but I found out what Milo meant by "Dream", it's an acronym.
"Dream Rami Evil Always Manifests."
That's where I got the idea for Rami.
He exists now to help fight off “him”. Because now you’ve read this, read my experience and Milo’s, you're aware on a subconscious level...and he needs new playmates.
This is no warning, that implies you can do something to change it. You can’t, your dreams are his playground, not yours.
|
|
|
|
|
|