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Friday September 6, 2013, at 11:45 pm

A Short Story

Over the last three years I have had the same dream almost every night. I am driving and I make a wrong turn down a narrow country road. We are looking for a place to turn around, but for no reason continue forward. As I travel down the road Bill falls asleep and crashes into the front yard of an old farmhouse.

At this point the dream becomes odd. I get out and start towards the house. The door of the farmhouse open, but what is inside is not a house but an almost indescribable thing. Huge and shifting the pink masses of flesh that I have only seen when watching medical shows. There is an odd sound and something that might vaguely be called an eye and then the dream sifts as dreams so often do.

I am on a couch. I look up to see a young woman, about my age. She has dark, kind eyes and an intensity of expression that is almost frightening, but when she sees that I am waking she smiles and I am struck by her beauty.

She tells me I had tried to get to the farmhouse for help, but my head had been hurt so I had made it only to the front door. The pounding of my head seemed to confirm the injury and the dream moves on.

I am in a small isolated community of about a dozen families. They are farmers, but seem remarkably normal outside of their isolation. The young woman, whose name I cannot remember though I have tried each time I wake is my guide to the small strange community.

The only real rules of this community were that no one was allowed to tell of its existence and no one went into the farmhouse I had approached. In fact, they avoided that area entirely though it was the only road leaving the area.

I assume they are doing something illegal. A meth house might even explain the odd hallucination as well as the reluctance of the small community to allow us to leave. But no matter how hard I try the image of the strange pulsating flesh remains. Why would I imagine something so odd, but then again why would I question my own dream in a dream?

Again at this time the dream becomes less clear. I am in the village for some time, perhaps weeks, but I remember only a few moments. I laugh with my hostess and she suggests I could stay, but I insist I must return home. She seems saddened by this and I try to convince her to come with me but I can never remember how the conversation ended.

Sometime later I am insisting that I can see my car and the woman surprises me and insists she will come though she is clearly terrified of that house.

This is where the dream becomes disjointed again. I am walking towards my car and the woman takes my hand our fingers weaved together.  As we approach I remember only pieces. There is a tree, but it seems to move and for a moment I am not certain it is a tree, and across the narrow road I see a barn that is simply wrong, though I do not remember why.

My car appears to be perfectly fine and I let go of the woman’s hand to check it, but she grabs it back as I do, though I don’t know why beyond simple fear. At that moment there is a gap of memory again, but this time it seems shorter. I am at my car and have a container of gasoline which I throw at the farmhouse.

My hostess is crying. She tells me that I must not anger it. It will punish us, but
I have decided. I will burn the creature. The next seconds in the dream are filled with fire and a low rumbling howl that is more anger than pain.

Then we are running through the woods. I am with the woman. We are crossing a small stream and our hands break apart.  Then I wake up. I know the dream should scare me.  Instead, each time I wake with an almost overwhelming melancholy and a desperate need to remember the woman’s name.

And each night as I fall asleep I hope to dream again the strange half nightmare because it is in that dream that I am with a woman who I have loved more than any woman before or since and each morning I get in my car and drive in hopes that I will take that wrong turn again, and if you’ve found this letter then there is at least a chance that I turned up that road again and even if I haven’t found that place someday perhaps I’ll go where I can dream forever.

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