Dreams

You know what, internet? I'm starting to get really tired of this.

It's been seventy days since the Slender Man took my best friend and dropped an A-bomb on my pathetic teenage life. Since then, my other best friend has been stalked. And people have been hurt. People have died, and I've been helpless to stop it.

Everything reminds me of him. Of it. I look out of my window at the woods that surrounds our house and think about the old stories of him in Germany. I see a businessman and have to blink a few times to see his face properly. And music -- God, to think that I used to enjoy music! I do try. I try to listen to my iPod in the car on my way to work. I put it on "Shuffle" and I hit Play.

There's a place in the dark where the animals go
You can take off your skin in the cannibal glow --

I hit the "next" button.

There is someone
Walking behind you
Turn around, look at me --

Next.

Falling apart and all that I question,
Is this a dream, or is this my lesson?
Oh, he's under my skin
Just give me something to get rid of him --
Next.

There's a man goin' round takin' names
And he decides who to free and who to blame
Everybody won't be treated all the same --

Next.

I saw the sign
And it opened up my eyes, I saw the sign --

Next.

Just tell me how I got this far.
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
'Cause every time I look, you're never there
And every time I see, you're always there,
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes, it's you I see
You're everything I know that makes me believe
I'm not alone, whoa,
I'm not alone --

Next, next, fucking next.

I've learned to drive in silence now.

And then there are the dreams. Here's the thing: I've had nightmares since I was a kid. I suffer from false awakenings -- that is, vivid dreams wherein I experience waking up, getting dressed, going about my day, etc...Only everything feels inherently, inexplicably wrong. People morph into strange things, like they just crawled out of the uncanny valley. These dreams have been with me since I even knew how to dream. Of course, recently they've been replaced with others. I've dreamt of the night he stood outside Rose's window more times than I can count. Even more recently, I've dreamt of the bodies in the woods. But I still felt that feeling of wrongness that was always with my false awakenings.

It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized that -- at least on the night I saw him -- I really did feel those feelings, awake and in real time. I didn't connect them to my dreams until that much longer afterward. I felt so stupid, but the dreams are such a part of me that it didn't even phase me. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that it was the exact feeling as in my dreams. But why?

It raises more questions than it could've possibly answered. I get exactly why the Slender Man feels wrong. It's because that's what he is to me -- he is wrong, the very concept of wrongness, personified; something so foreign to nature and morals and the laws of physics that no other word can describe him. My subconscious mind must have realized that before I did.

And speaking of dreams...last night, I had a dream that Rose and I were together again. I drove over to her house and had a nice dinner with her family. We talked about college, her in practice and me in theory. We discussed boys and she playfully scolded me for not flirting shamelessly with Detective Goldman; I told her I wasn't at the top of my game because I had stuff on my mind, and he probably thinks he's too old for me anyway so why bother. I told her about Angel's latest tirade. We went and saw the latest Harry Potter movie and made geeky references for the rest of the night. We did normal things, like we used to do, and -- God! -- weren't we just so fucking happy back then?

Then, suddenly, it was time for me to leave. She reached forward and hugged me. No sooner had she touched me than that feeling hit me full force. Wrong. Something -- or perhaps everything -- was horribly wrong. I awoke crying again.

Violet knows about the search party, and the bodies in the woods. She called me up yesterday and tore me a new one.

"MY LIFE!" she screamed. "My decision! Did you think I wouldn't find out?! Did you think I wouldn't get around to reading your fucking blog? Or that Riley wouldn't crack the minute I hinted that I knew?! Did you?!"

I didn't know what to say to that. I told her I was only thinking of her. She said I was only thinking of how I could best make it serve my own needs -- that is, getting her to stay. I suppose she's right.

We managed to work out getting Riley on the three-way and she bitched him out just as well, although she already had before she called me. After a long while, we were able to talk her down. We calmly put forth our reasoning. She eventually agreed to stick around, for now, although she made it perfectly clear that she was still royally pissed off at both of us.

I don't know what to do, guys. Sometimes I feel so goddamn wretched, it's like it hurts to breathe. The other day at Wawa, my manager told me to keep an eye on the fuel court (where we keep all the gas pumps) for any kind of suspicious activity. Instead of looking at the actual people, every hour or so I'd scan the horizon. Was I looking for him? It certainly feels like it. Whenever I walk into a room now, I check the windows. When I walk outside, I do a quick check to make sure I'm not being watched. And now Violet won't speak to me.

I know you told me not to lose hope, guys, and Detective Goldman and Father Kelly have said the same thing, and I'm trying -- you don't know how much your support means to me -- but it's so hard to see any turn at this crossroads that doesn't lead us right to him.