Omen

An illustration of the eye that I saw in my dream, created by these two images;

I drew over the top of the first image, but I hope this will help better explain to those reading just what I saw.

The Eye At The Bottom of Emerald Coast

This post is an update to where I have been for the last 2 weeks. I plan to write everything that I experienced, everything I heard, everything I saw– in excruciating detail for me. For my own peace of mind, so if you are perturbed by talk related to medical emergencies or long winded explanations about things as trivial as my feelings, then feel free to turn away. I won’t fault you for it, but this post is going up all the same, because I feel like this moment in my life meant something. It had to.

So, what happened? I'm just going to rip the bandage off and say, I had a cardiac event at work, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. I don't like having to share this because I feel like I always have something dramatic happening in this disaster of a life I've built for myself. I thought moving from my hometown and getting a medical degree was supposed to make my life more stable, but the groundwork I've created is crumbling around me, and the fall from grace started with a workplace argument. “I don't get why you don't trust us, we have been so nice to you, and yet you keep pulling this shit-”

“Look, I can't just turn trust on like a switch, Larry. If I could, I would just to get you off my back but don't sit there and lie to me. I know you all have been talking about me in secret. What was it about? Is it because of what I said about the freezer room? Is it- oh my god, did you find out why I left my last job?” I panicked, but the look on Larry's face told me that it was not information he was privy to… yet. “I do not think it's a coincidence that you all suddenly fall silent the second I enter the room. So am I just being paranoid or do you have something you want to tell me?”

“You're just being paranoid!!” He throws his hands up with his shouted exclamation, several people glance over at us. “Look, dude… Okay, we have talked a little bit but only because we're worried about you!” I raised an eyebrow of disbelief. “Seriously? After we invited you out to grab drinks with us, you still don't think we're friends?”

“I…don't  know what I think.”

I could feel the tension rising up in the back of my throat, like bile. Everything in the room pulsed as I took in a shaking breath, but Larry just pushed on. “Why are you so damn negative? I just don't get it, man. You know when you aren't going on about how the world is awful, you're actually fun to talk to-”

“Listen, bad always happen to me- I'm just reporting the facts,”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about-! Nobody is out to get you! I like you, Julius! I like you!” and I tried to say something in rebuttal but… I threw up right there at the table with no warning…and it was pure black, the texture gelatinous and bitter. I thought about how someone had told me once that black vomit is a tell towards a serious health issue and that you are close to death- and I know that's because of the coffee ground appearance of vomit during a gastrointestinal bleed, I know that, okay?  I could tell that wasn't what this was because it was downright acrylic looking in consistency,  but it was too late, the fear that I was dying was already firmly planted in my head. I could feel the prickle of eyes on me, making me feel even more panicked. “Oh shoot, let me go get some paper towels,” Larry said, but Gilbert was already making strides over to the paper towel roll on the counter in the breakroom. My head was swimming, and my shoulder began to throb so hard that it trailed up the side of my neck and that just freaked me out even more.That must've been when I lost consciousness, because I don't really recall much afterwards. I think Larry might've tried to coax me out of my seat, saying; “Okay, let's get you sitting on the ground before you pass out.”but besides that, it's a blur. All I wanted was to stand up and shake it off, and show them that everything was alright– but it was like I was trying to keep my head above water when the waves were crashing all the same, silencing my cries for help and pulling me under. I fought it the whole way down.

For a painful moment, it was just dark, and the only thing I was conscious of was that feeling where you've been dropped from a great height, that rush of adrenaline in a quick pulsing ’thump!’ and then I was far under the currents of emerald bay. The water was dark and rich, and it overwhelmed all my senses. It was all encompassing, in a terrifying way that made it impossible to tell which direction the surface was. For a second there it was nice because at least this felt constant, you know? It almost felt safe, in a way that was terribly deceptive. 'Thump!' There was something there, under the ocean floor. I couldn't see it, but it was there, its heartbeat shaking the tranquility of death.  I could feel it with absolute certainty. It made the sea pulse like a womb, and so I swam down towards the heartbeat that was drumming on, shaking the walls of my soul.

Because it's not fair. I played my whole life by the books. I kept my head down, I worked myself to the bone, and I always followed what was expected of me. I never put myself out there. As I kept kicking my feet, all I could think about was all the hobbies I repressed, all the people I could've kissed, all the things I could've brought into question- it wasn't fair. I wasn't supposed to die like this, never finding the closure I was searching for. I just wanted to understand who I am, I just wanted to know- was that really so awful? 

’Thump!’

And there it was, at the bottom of emerald bay, the thing that's haunted me, the explanation of my entire life looking right through me as if I wasn't merely my flesh. One, pulsing eye, flecked with the dark stars of infinite timelines and realities. I spent my whole life feeling lost, like I didn't know who I was, and now it was looking me right in the face like a macabre joke. I thought back to all that time I spent asking people about their experiences, and trying to selfishly fit myself into some space I could belong- the Supernatural kin community, the Madoka Magica kin community, the Mouth Washing kin community especially and it was all because of this thing. This thing I don't even understand. I wanted to, in spite of everything. I almost wanted to laugh at how bad it hurt…and because I have a sense of humor, as I reached out to stab into the pupil with my sharpened fingers, I thought to myself,

“I hope this hurts”

Some things about going into cardiac arrest at 24 years old; I recovered faster than expected. I could've been there for 16, 18 days… but I was only there for 11. Having all that stuff hooked up on me, especially the catheter, was sensory hell and so I made it everyone else's problem that I was feeling so rotten. That being said, I found myself not nearly as emotional about this experience. Surprising as that may be, it all felt sort of surreal. Like it wasn't me laying in that hospital bed but someone completely different. Oh, I hated that more than anything. You know what the real kicker was? They said it was triggered by stress. That I should be more careful when viewing horror content, among other things. Imagine the one thing that brings you joy. Imagine the climax of your absolute euphoria, a high that knocks you away from the woes of reality, your favorite food, your favorite song. Imagine asking a question, and never getting to live to hear the answer, no you've been condemned to ignorance. It was as if they just told me I was going to be living off saltines for the rest of my life. It was like they defanged me. Naturally I dealt with it in my usual healthy coping mechanisms- being an insufferable prick. 

Consider this a footnote, but-

The thing that pushed me over the edge in the end is confusing and because I don't understand it, I feel almost embarrassed to admit the amount of pain it doled upon all my senses. It was one of the nurses, the way she smelled. Over all that sterile cleaner and sour dread from the hospital, somehow I could make out notes of chamomile and bergamot as she whisked away with a clipboard in hand, and suddenly I was struggling to keep my composure, because I

Why? Why was this happening? Why was I doing this here, where someone could see me? Sure, no one was in the room but I could feel the prickle of eyes at the back of my neck. I was already in the throes of a nervous breakdown though, I could feel the lump in my throat forming and suddenly I wished I hadn't gone and pushed away anyone who even looked at me kindly. 

If I kept going down that train of thought, I'd surely embarrass myself. I mean– it's  not as if I've never had a cup of tea before, or had the pleasure of smelling a lit bergamot candle. For some reason, the warmth in it together just knocked the wind out of me. How do you process grief if you don't even know why you're grieving? So I just sat there, swallowing convulsively and thinking about the fact that I built my walls so high, that nobody visited me in this god forsaken hospital over the holidays. ’Well, that's not fair, maybe they visited early when I wasn't conscious and they just got turned away because they weren't family’ I try to tell myself, but deep down I know nobody tried because I really am that unlikable of a person. It's not even something I've learned, it's been like this ever since I was a child. If I just keep telling myself it's all of this is worth it, then maybe one day it will be. I just have to keep clawing at the walls of this existence until I break through.

I'm taking this. It's mine now.

some horrorkin and monsterkin blinkies :] pssst... i'm taking requests for this template if anyone wants it in a different color/different words! (free to use, no credit or permission required, no dni)

A Dream About A Maze

Tonight’s the night. It has to be–

I’ve been patient, biding my time, ignoring this urge in the name of an experiment but also because some part of me was hoping it’s all a lie I’ve convinced myself of. That I could break away.. I’ve always known what I am. At first it was easy, and I’d gotten hopeful. The dreams dulled to a myriad of eyes, a cacophony of screams. I got dms, offering to share memories and I politely held my resolve but then the ache began to grow steadily like a raw and aching wound in my chest. 

Now that ache has developed into everything I’ve feared the most. This parasocial relationship has become my religion and way of life. So here I am, in another bedroom. In the end it’s no big surprise, I crossed the line a lifetime ago in a reality far from this one. Torturing myself with guilt isn’t enough to hold me back anymore. I want to know the feeling of touching that high again, even if the heart palpitations kill me. I think she understands that when I look at her. 

Megan is watching me back, frightened, but I look through her all the same. Her eyes are dark, frantic and searching mine for any humanity. Yet she found none in any of them. This has become a methodical practice, and I was far too desperate to show any delay. I was beyond reasoning, and nothing more than a caged animal. The eyes are the gateway to her soul, and so my fingers stabbed down into the pupil of her eye, and again we meet in this same place that we always do. 

Megan Awbrey was lost. I could feel that much, the stirring of dread like dead leaves in the wind reverberated through my chest. I had been in the mall with friends, this was just supposed to be a girl’s outing, not only a week away from my birthday. How had I found myself.. Here? It’s a long stretching room, painted a shade that seemed to be red or orange. The loud and bright coloring was miles away from the crisp white of the mini mall that I had been in only moments ago. The only way out was a vivid lilac door. “Erica..? Dana? Where the fuck are you?!” my voice comes out as the sound of an agitated young woman, in her 20s- 22 to be exact, her life had only just begun. I try to shake off the building anxiety and make a move towards the blue door with a huff, only to find the gap between the door and I pull. I was sure I had moved and yet the door remained the same distance away. 

Something is terribly wrong here, I can feel it in the air. Something heavy that sends hot and cold flashes through my body, making my vision dip and swoon, my ears ringing- I am so terribly trapped. I zip open my purse, fishing out an old tube of chapstick. ‘If I really am going nowhere, this chapstick will stay in my line of sight as I’m making a dash for the door,’ I think to myself, dropping it down onto the old, thin carpeted floor and watching it roll slightly into the baseboard of the wall. Megan is congratulating herself for her forward thinking as she takes quick little steps down the ugly ashen hallway, she almost forgets the dire situation she has found herself in, until I look back and see that the chapstick is nowhere to be seen. More direly, I hear footsteps. Fast, quickly closing in footsteps, and so I- Megan, begins to run down the hallway, desperately trying to reach a door she cannot even remember the color of. 

She had not gotten this far through nursing school, to ultimately be backrooms-ed to death. She thinks this under a litany of other frantic and half aborted thoughts- because you barely even have time to think, when you’re running for your life in high heels, mind you-

It was about the time that the hallway went awash in a creamy off putting shade of yellow, that I remembered that I am not Megan Awbrey. This thing I’m running from, at the end of the hallway is just a part of my dreams, and therefore a part of me. I slow to a jog and eventually a halt, refusing to look back at what is probably rapidly advancing. I can hear it’s footsteps on the walls, the ceiling–

“May I ask you a few questions? I feel like you have something to tell me.”  And the voice is so terribly mine, that it catches me off guard. It is me, so suddenly that I feel off kilter, ripped from a dream. It’s quiet for a minute and then, “You can ask, but you’ll never find answers.”

..

What do you do, when you find yourself interrogating your own memories? Are you truly getting the answers you so desperately crave, or is my own subconscious feeding me my worst fears? Is it all an exercise in vanity? 

“I need to know what you are. Please, what is your nature?” I sound frantic to my own ears, and I realize I have disregarded the questionnaire in feverish hope of something making sense. I have no script to rely on now. “I am the gaps in your mind, the fear of chaos. You are living on something concrete, but I am the in between,” The anomaly before me grins wide, drinking in my reaction. I shudder; suddenly this hallway seems so far from the warmth of the sun. Chaos incarnate is one way to look at them, and yet somehow I felt as though they were playing with their answer. “Have you always been force of the impossible coming into reality?” My fingers twitch, the nails clicking against each other in anticipation. At this vague and cryptic question, they cock their head in curiosity. 

The question is at the tip of my tongue, ‘Were you always this, or was it something that was inflicted upon you?’ but I think better of it, instead choosing to ask, “Are there others like you?” 

“Many! More than you could hope to find in your dreams. So many of them were hapless victims that found themselves taken over by an entity outside of human comprehension. Have you ever watched someone get chewed up in the mouth of fear and swallowed down until there was nothing left of the person you knew before? That is what they are! Victims have been fed to the fears countless times, and it will happen again.”

“Why do they do it though? What do they want?” 

“Well, if you were a being that defined yourself off the fear of others for allll of your existence…what would you want, more than anything after being left in silence for as long as we have?”

“They want to be known.” I decided, because that had to be it, right? They wanted to be recognized and seen for the fearful creatures they once were- at least to inspire new fear just as they once had. Could it even be as simple as that? “Is that what you want? To be known?”

“Do I look like I do?” 

I suppose not in the traditional sense. This was a being of complete chaos and contradiction, that much was readily apparent to me, and yet I think this entity would not be entertaining my inquiries if they didn't want to at least be recognized for the disorder and breaking of boundaries that they represent. They are a creature of many branching facets that wishes to be studied by inquisitive eyes- maybe I was just the man to bring them that. 

“I think you have been left craving for a long time.” I finally settled on. “You would know about cravings, wouldn't you? How many memories have you strangled from people's subconscious?” There's a tone of teasing, light and airy and yet the bitter accusation underneath is digging into me deep. “This is my dream and you don't have power here,” I mutter, trying to focus on something so I could force myself awake. I desperately needed to ground myself.

“Oh don't be so coy, dear Jules. You haven't been perfecting your dream hunting because you want to help others.” 

“I'm going to count backwards from 3, and then I'll wake up. Three,”

“All this pride, all this fight… oh,  be honest with yourself. Yoouuu liked it~” 

When the impossibly long, slender fingers of the entity ran along my chest, I couldn't help but let out a breathless gasp, a tremor running up my spine. It then became apparent to me that no matter how otherworldly I felt and looked in these dreams, there was still a part of me that felt vulnerable and human… and most of all, afraid. They could smell it on me, and I was mad at myself for giving in so easily. 

“I'm nothing like you,”

“Oh no? You're not drinking in the fear? My, maybe he was wrong about you after all.” 

And suddenly, the fingers stabbed deep into my chest, causing me to leap awake, grabbing at myself. As I work on catching my breath, I know when Megan finally found herself free from that monster, she never found her friends again. A sickening part of me is more focused on the possibilities our conversation has presented, rather than the guilt I should be feeling though.

.. And isn’t that just terrifying?

An Update;

So far, my break from latching onto others’ memories is going well! My dreams still haunt me all the same, I try not to remember them– a myriad of eyes, a cacophony of screams in the dark, these will be lost to the sands of time, but if I just ignore them I won't have to breathe life back into the horror of it all by posting on here. Besides, wouldn't that be cheating..?

There were times that I felt like I wanted to go into my inbox, an anxious sort of feeling that  tells me I have to look, but after 6 days ignoring it, this is seemingly fairly manageable! On an unrelated note, did you know you can grit your teeth hard enough to make fractures in them? 

Ocean Eyes

There is an eye at the bottom of the ocean, belonging to an old god whose name has been forgotten, but still leaves echoes in the memory of man. It's there, under the rolling waves and aquatic life. In a constant staring contest with our sun that's dripping crimson with the blood of so many who have given into their fears, the eye gazes not just on that sun but through every life that has ever lived in this reality we've found ourselves in, and so many others.

 When it finally blinks, the world will end. This is a fact. The Earth will begin to swallow us whole, and nature will take back what we've stolen from it. Bridges collapsing and headlights careering into the star filled glinting sea, into doors that were never meant to be opened. Fear and panic in the air, do you feel it too?.. and when that eye blinks, our sun will too. I want to look down into those depths just so I can reassure myself it's fine. ‘It was just a dream, a terrible, terrible dream that you had because you went into cardiac arrest,’

But it's still wriggling in my brain, pulling in and out of my periphery like a tide. So I think..

I'm going to run a little experiment. I've mentioned my urges- 

My fixation with hearing others experiences and memories, my drive to feel that connection, and to pick at the more distressing details of said memories. I would like to stop completely, just to see how uncomfortable I'd get. I want to document how long it takes until my resolve cracks, just to get a sense of how trapped I really am in this cycle.

So, if I don't post for a while, my blog isn't dead! I'm simply trying not to fall into a pattern that I've been feeding into for the past 3 months. I will post the results when I feel I've gotten satisfying results.

A Small Infodump about Spider Venom

Look, I know the doctor said I need to take it easy and not work myself up but-

Is it really that bad that I'm currently  compiling a list of different spider venoms and their myriad of effects, along with categorizing different species of spiders to what venom they inflict? I believe a wise man once inquired, "Can't a girl have hobbies?" . Of course we all know the big four categories–

There is Phospholipase D, a venom that interacts with different cellular membrane components, degrades phospholipids, and generates bioactive mediators. This can cause damage to the tissue through necrosis, as well as blistering near the bite. The recluse spider is one of the most well known arachnids to have this venom.

Alpha Latrotoxin, stimulates uncontrolled exocytosis of neurotransmitters from nerve terminals, causing paresthesia, seizures and myocarditis, which always brings up the image of the infamous black widow spider, with her striking hourglass abdomen.

The Delta Atracotoxin wielded by my personal favorite- the black sydney funnel web spider (did you know that a sydney funnel web spider is capable of biting through a human fingernail?) slows the inactivation of sodium ion channels in autonomic and motor neurons. This can cause circulation failure as well as excess salivation, nausea and disorientation…

And of course the less talked about PhTx 3-4, a calcium channel blocking toxin that also stimulates the nervous system, causing nausea, hypertension, and change in arterial flow in parts of the body.

 There's just something about insects and arachnids and all of it as a whole that peaks my curiosity, that runs borderline close to familiarity. I mean, how about I turn the topic at hand onto you all– anyone who would like to share their favorite bugs and why, feel free.

Better yet, why not make it a poll?

Two Sentence Horror Story:

You send an ask to a beloved mutual, only to look back at the google doc that you copied and pasted from. There's a grammatical error.

I am ahmed from Gaza I hope you are well, my dear. Please help me. Our tent was flooded while we were sleeping in the streets. We have no shelter. I cannot provide winter clothes for me and my mother to protect us from the cold that has begun, and I cannot provide basic needs. Please help me. $50 is enough to buy a new tent and winter clothes. Please help me my dear. We live in very harsh conditions.conditions.https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-ahmed-and-his-family-survive-in-gaza-crisis

ahmed-gaza033's donation page is available on gofundme.com

not sure how to start this right but hi there! im mod star from the non canon kin blog :) i really hope this doesn't sound weird but after reading your ask & your profile i thought you seem really interesting & wanted to share some things in hopes they're useful to you in any way.

from your description & lack of an identified source it made me think you could look into oc kin? i'm kin of one of my own ocs, from a universe i've been creating & expanding on for around 6-7 years by now, so perhaps oc kin is something you could try looking into! i also thought of something along the lines of general cryptid kin & naturally villain kin, i don't know if that's very helpful to you but you know, i'm sorta going for the vibes you give off in the hopes it can maybe lead you somewhere? awfully sorry if any of this feels a bit vague, feel free to ask for clarification if needed!

Thank you for reaching out to me, Star. Again, thank you so much for taking a chance on the ask that I sent you. I have been looking into OC kin more extensively as of late because it was actually suggested that I research it recently by someone else as well. It definitely is a strong lead, so I will take your suggestions into heavy kinsideration.

Recovery has been a bit difficult. I worry that with each time that my body breaks down and develops more issues, it becomes harder for people to overlook and I become more difficult to love- which I know of course when I write it down that it's a terribly stupid, and ableist thought.

I would never think such things about someone else in my position, but when I haven't put words to that gut feeling and it only has to be directed inwards I worry about it on a near visceral level. It keeps me awake at night. Nobody could love what I've gone and become. This is too much for anybody. I'm even too much maintenance for myself