| abstract | - I had a dream the other night, in which I met a man - or at least I think he was a man - who seemed to be completely skinless, his nose cut off and the bone bare, his eyes sullen and the brightest blue. He never spoke, and yet I'm sure he whispered unto me eternal truths. It wasn't a dream I thought about much, I didn't usually remember dreams, and they certainly never made any sense, so this one didn't stand out much. Though, I wouldn't be writing about this if it hadn't stood out eventually. Hopefully someone else can make sense of it all for me, I don't know if I want to anymore. That day was pretty horrible, just emotionally, I felt emptier than usual, scared. I'd felt like this before, just run of the mill depression. By evening I'd attempted suicide, I strung up my neck and it burnt like my head was about to explode, my eyes watered, I stumbled onto my feet and panic set in. For the short moment after I'd gotten myself loose, I felt eyes on me, burning blue eyes. I likened it to delirium at first, I'm not sure anymore. That night I dreamt uneasy, skipping through assorted horrors like most nights were, just short films on fast forward. Then I had a dream I remember clearly, I was in a corridor, bright lights to either end and plain grey walls, and he appeared again and walked right past me. I wanted to speak with him, I wanted to know why he was there, what had happened yesterday, who he was - but somehow I was just satisfied in knowing he was there. Before I woke up, he looked at me with those sullen blue eyes. At this point I mentioned him to a friend of mine, just described the man who'd been in my dreams, I didn't mention the strange correlation, it wasn't important and I was sure she'd think I was crazy or just seeking attention. When I was done describing him, she seemed startled by the degree of realism that I could relay to her, and how calm I was about this man that to her sounded like some kind of horrible Grim Reaper-type character. I didn't tell her that he comforted me, seeing the look on her face told me enough to know what she was thinking about the situation. After that, I shrugged it off, I'd told someone else about my strange night visitor, and didn't think anything of it. Or at least I wished I could have. That night I didn't dream, or couldn't recall any dreams, the day was regular and I started to think it was a coincidence, that I had one particularly vivid dream and that happened to seep into the next night, and the other stuff was entirely incidental. That evening, however, my friend confided in me something - she'd seen him too, he was in her dreams and she could see clearly the carved pattern in his face and down his throat, over his skull, along his arms. Though I had mentioned this intricate pattern-work I had never the patience to describe it, but she did, as she spoke to me about the curves, swirls and lines, I knew she'd seen the same figure as I had. That wasn't even the weirdest part of our conversation - see, her family was friends with my family, and they were over for a dinner, coincidentally (I've learnt now not to ever believe in coincidences) as we finished our conversation, theirs traveled onto the very close call their daughter - my friend! - had gotten into.... She had nearly drowned! As I listened to the conversation, in shock as you might imagine, I learnt that she'd fallen asleep in the bath prior to coming over, and it was only shortly before she would have actually lost consciousness that she woke up - surviving by absolute miracle. I wasn't sure if I should bring up my own coincidental brush with death, I chose not to - mine had been self inflicted, no one would believe it was related, even if she was my best friend. So the dinner went as usual and I didn't bring anything up any further. The strange figure of my dreams could move on, I'd had about enough with this chapter already. My life carried on as usual for about a week, when one day - two days ago as of my writing this - my friend confided in me something new, she'd told someone else of him, in even lesser detail than I had her, but even her friend had dreamt of this man. Her friend, however, was braver than I could be, as his first description of him was "comforting". I'd never wanted to think of this figure that way, but we all admitted it was true, there was something calming to him. Though the conversation was nearly left at that, I had to pry now, there was something happening here and there was absolutely a pattern. I asked if anything had happened to him, the friend, since dreaming this man. "Actually, yes," she said to me, softly, and I saw a tear in her eye, "He was hit by a car, I was just visiting him in the hospital." She admitted quietly, and I left it at that. I learnt later that day that he's in a stable condition, that he'll be fine - hopefully. That night I dreamt of him again, the man I preferred to think of as a night visitor, a guest in my sleeping dream domain. I felt comforted in knowing he'd visited again. Again it was a highly vivid dream, though it was disjointed as usual, I recall being sat across from him, and I asked him who he was, but he merely shook his head, his eyes never shut for a moment, his lips - if they were lips - never parted, he spoke not once but I'm sure he whispered unto me. I don't know if he's an omen of something, but so far I've been alright, I can only hope everyone else who sees him will be as lucky as I have been. I decided to relay this story in hopes that maybe someone else has seen him, or knows of what he might be.
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