DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,

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My god, my dreams get weirder and weirder.

So I'm looking after my nan's house while she's away, staying in the back bedroom I've always slept in, and I know her official house-sitter Margaret is going to come round later, but until she does I've invited swisstone over for a drink and a chat, both of which are duly had - I think we talked about boats or something. Eventually he has to leave to get back to ladymoonray and he goes out of the front door with a shouted 'goodbye, kitten!'. 'Kitten', I think, smiling to myself, and lie down on my old bed to maybe take a nap.

At this point it gets a little hazy, because what I realise afterwards (though still in the dream) is that that morning, I'd been visited by Jennifer Connelly, who was attempting to sell her services as a psychic. I'd told her I didn't believe in any of that nonsense and offered her tea instead, which she gratefully accepted, and sent her on her way - but I didn't remember any of this at the point at which I was lying down to sleep. I wasn't sure whether I'd slept or not, but I opened my eyes to the sound of rustling, and turned to look for its source. On the wall to my right, the letters K I T T E and N were slowly being slapped against the wall, and sticking, by an unseen hand - but they looked translucent, as if they were ghost letters, and I tried to get up to touch them but I could't make myself move. The letters had been cut from magazine pages, artistically swirly - it would have taken ages. As I watched, unable to move, the message spells itself out in full :

It's not much, but it seemed terrifying, and I didn't understand how it could possibly have happened, and my only thought was to send a message back - and in order to do that I had, obviously, to cut up some letters myself. Actually I also thought about who could be sending me the message - I think I wondered for a while whether it was a jealous ladymoonray (sorry, love). Anyway, I had a folder of magazine pages by my bed (not so unlikely, since I usually do) and I spent the next possibly half hour, possibly longer trying to cut out 'WTF?' and being almost totally incapable of it. The scissors kept slipping and I cut my hands, at one point as I looked at it the magazine page turned into the stretched-out rind of a lemon, I'd finish the T and then find that I'd cut the top bars off it. It was so frustrating and in the end I was crying and crying when I heard a knock at the door. 'Christ', I thought, 'that will be Margaret.'

I went to answer the door and it turned out to not be Margaret but Jennifer Connelly back again, and as soon as I opened the door she said "I was right, wasn't I? Something *has* happened." For some reason I flatly refused to admit it, though, but she pushed past me and I felt too weak to stop her, so I just followed her back into the bedroom, looking at the floor. I didn't want to look at the walls and admit by doing so that something inexplicable had gone on. Things get hazy again then, and the next thing I remember is her saying, "You've had a message, haven't you? From someone? Pasted in letters on the wall?" and I just looked up at her and nodded miserably, and then I looked over at the wall in question. And there was nothing there! Nothing at all.

Baffled, I looked at her and said "There's nothing there," and then, more certain, "And there never was. You just frightened me. Would you please go? My nan's house-sitter will be here any minute." She took my hand - again, I couldn't stop her - and pressed it against the wall behind the bed, which wasn't where the letters had been and looked just like the other, blank walls, but - under my hand I could feel the edges of a piece of paper, stuck to the wall! I stared at her, thought about saying 'But it wasn't this wall...', continued to move my hand. After I'd established that there was paper stuck to the wall - invisible paper - she pulled me back and looked at me triumphantly, but I had to look closer at the wall. Before she knew it I was standing on the bed, and I guess she must have thought I'd collapse again because she just left me to it while I got up close to the wall and suddenly it was as though my vision cleared and I could see that there were pieces of paper stuck to the wall. Pieces of wallpaper exactly like my nan's white wallpaper. Cut into tesselated shapes and then tacked onto the wall. I began to realise that I'd not been able to see things clearly at all all day, and that I'd been dizzy, and remembered the difficulty I'd had cutting the letters, and came to the conclusion that she'd drugged me so I'd sleep while she put all the bits of paper up. I tore them from the wall, and underneath there was my KITTEN message, one letter under every sheet of paper, and also a series of unrelated magazine articles about Paul Bettany (who is her husband IRL).

Once they were all down it occurred to me to go and look for her, and at that moment the front door slammed and I heard running footsteps, and I ran to my nan's window to look out across the front garden and discovered that a) it was snowing, b) she'd stolen my nan's kettle and nothing else, and c) she was trying to make her getaway on the back of a pedal bicycle which the man from Interlock was attempting, and failing, to start. Then the doorbell rang, and as I answered it I realised I was wearing cutoff shorts, much to the amazement of little Margaret, who'd finally arrived and was being slowly covered in snow.

Then I woke up.


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