Merry Christmas to you all from me and the little one!

After quite some time of being dreamless, I had two separate but equally as unsettling dreams last night.

Dream entry from: December 25th 1:15 A.M.

This is my home. I lay in my familiar bed, the residual warmth of the blankets reassuring. I shift to my other side, rolling to face my door which is partly cracked open like always. My heart stops, forget to beat momentarily, there standing in the doorway is a child. A boy no older than four, his appearance is like static, I can’t seem to focus on him long enough to form any details. My mind is awash with a fear so crippling I forget to breath, as my muscles lock in denial, rationally I know I shouldn’t be afraid but a primal part of me knows this child isn’t human. A part of me is compelled to get out of bed, I move tword the child as he lifts an all too thin hand to grasp mine. I reach out to take it, but upon touching it I almost immediately recoil, his touch burns, not like fire, but the kind of burn that comes from holding something so terribly cold. I realize now he is dead. Though the child hasn’t said one word to me, he watches, and in that stare I can tell…feel…that he wants me to take him somewhere. I’m terrified beyond belief, but I obey and lean down to pick him up. I carry him at my side, his arms looped around my neck, the burning persists. I feel that he wants me to take him to the backyard of the house. The glass doors slide open and I set him, barefoot, down onto the patio. Without another word he steps onto the grass, and walks forward into the earth, slowly descending until the tip of his head vanished beneath the blades of grass.

Second dream:

Nauseous, hazy, confused. Where am I? The world seems to be misted over, foggy, bright. Far too bright. White lights. Squinting. Ah, it dawns on me, my bathroom. I’m in my bathroom. My breathing comes in heavy, fast gasps. Gulps of air. My reflection in the mirror is blurred, like someone smeared all of my outlines. It feels like fire under my skin, crawling and scratching. I lean over the sink, my palms grasping the cool granite of the counter like a life raft. Something isn’t right, I’m sick. Sick. I can feel it sliding up my throat, a million little acidic spider legs wriggling up my esophagus. I fold over the sink and retch. Inky black ooze slides over my lips, splattering the sides of the sink, a second wave hits and more black matter paints the sides of the granite sink. It won’t stop coming. Never stops.

The dreams end here.

Since all has been quiet on the home front recently I just wanted to check in with everyone here who follows this blog.

Sara and I took a trip up into the mountains a month or so ago to see the changing of the aspen leaves. Really it’s a sight to see, the mountain looks like it’s covered in gold coins. Also, It was just cloudy enough that day that we had ideal lighting for taking pictures. If anyone lives in Colorado or ever gets the chance to visit during that time of year head up to any part of the mountains and you’ll see this breathtaking sight.

Like I said before, nothing has gone on since the incident at my home where the power was out. I also haven’t been dreaming at all since that time, so it’s why I haven’t posted much here.

There is one lone poppy flower growing in my back yard. They’re beautiful, I wish there were more.

Just a quick update. Brittany, Sara, and I stayed in a bed and breakfast in Mannitou Springs. It was an amazingly relaxing experience. We stayed in the Pawnee room, which had some sort of a western theme to it. The rest of the house had quite a bit of old charm, I wish I could have gotten a better picture of it, because the one I took made it look rather daunting. The owner of the bed and breakfast also made us a lovely breakfast. It was nice to just get away, to unwind.

Some time has passed since the events that went down in me and sara’s own little personal house of horrors, or as someone in the youtube comments put it our own House Of Leaves. I wanted to take a minute to sit down and talk about a few things I’ve been thinking about.

The whole event in itself was a tremendous clusterfuck that I would like to forget as quickly as possible, but a few things struck me as odd. The copycat, the thing that looked like both me and Sara, was oozing some black goop. Now as far as I could tell from the footage Sara showed me it was the same substance as what was in my bathtub. Which means this little shit has been in my house before which makes me shudder to even be sitting in this house right now because there may be a slim possibility this thing never left. I just don’t know anymore.

I would also like to mention that in the grapple with copycat where I sliced off one of its digits, it just fucking evaporated in my grip mid hack session. One second I had it pinned, the thing was making an earsplitting racket, and then the next it just….it melted away. Gone. Bam. Like nothing had ever been there in the first place. I was left staring into the dark void my house had become. Unbelievable.

OH and P.S. we have the finger I cut off stored in a jar for later reference. No more screwing around. I’ll try to record a bit about that later. 

In conclusion I have no flipping clue what’s going on still, me and Sara need to sit down and try to piece some shit together before someone, or something decides to just end our sorry life story right here. And it may sound weird, but if anyone out there reading this miserable post has any clue or hint no matter how crazy, drop me a line here. A message. Anything. We could use it.

Also here’s the dream log in text form for those of you who would like to take a look at it, like I said it made my friend Brittany uncomfortable but I’m still not sure why.

Dream entry from: August 2nd 5:15 A.M.

Yet again I find myself in a forest, a gentle gold light filters down through the leaves leaving a mosaic of warmth on the foliage below. A small clearing is viable to me ahead, I can hear the gentle whisper of a stream, and as I move ahead it becomes visible to me, the crystalline water dancing as light bounces off the surface. The ground surrounding the stream is carpeted with lush poppy flowers, so red it seems they might bleed at the slightest breath. As my gaze moves up I notice that there are children, indescribable in gender or appearance but small, frail and clumsy as children are. They are all picking the Poppy flowers.

The dream ends here.

I’ve posted quite a few photos already, so I thought I would switch it up and post a small watercolor painting I did a while ago. A visual representation of nightmares creeping into my head. 

Story Time.

This is an aura photo taken at a metaphysical fair about a year ago. Don’t know what an aura photo is? Here is an explanation compliments of google:

What is Aura Photography? 
      Aura photography is a visual image of how we are functioning. 
    The technological process is complicated. The hand-shaped plates are sophisticated sensors. They measure your electromagnetic field, based on the Ayurvedic (acupressure points on the hand) system of meridians. The camera codes the energy readings into frequencies (which correspond to certain colors) and process the photograph, a computer sorts the information and prints the Aura Photograph. 
     These measurements are expressed as vibrational levels which a computer chip turns into their relevant colors. A data cable from the sensor takes the information to the camera which takes a double exposure (your image plus superimposing of colors collected from the sensors). This amazing photograph of all the collected data superimposed on the image is the Aura photo.
     Through the use of this remarkable technology, we gain a deeper insight into our emotional - mental states, heal and spiritual well-being. Thus we are now able to give a more accurate reading of the Aura based on the colors that are photographed.

I appologize for the state of the image, it’s a poloroid and I left it in my sweltering hot car for far too long. So as I was saying, this image was taken a while back at a fair, after the image is taken you can take it to a woman off to the side and she will sit and explain what all the colors mean, which I did. The most dominant color displayed was red. She explained that the red I was displaying was rare for the fact that it was mostly only seen in children. It is a sign of high creativity and curiosity, and an overall passion for life. There is a small ring of yellow behind my head, which represents spiritual and psychic awareness, an ability to tell when there is truth in other peoples words. Finally, and most startling to me is a flush of white over to my right side. The woman told me that this means there is a spirit standing nearby me, most likely a deceased relative. I almost told her there were no dead family members I could think of, and that’s when I remembered my twin.

This brings me to the second part of my story.

I’m a twin, and sometimes I forget this. Not an identical twin mind you, but a fraternal twin. I never knew my twin brother, the only thing I do know is that he would have been named Ryan. When my mom was pregnant with us, Ryan died in the womb about five months in. Somehow I held on. However she wasn’t really able to keep us in for much longer, so I was born three months early via c-section. I was only three pounds and had to remain at the hospital for about a month before I could go home, and even after that it was uncertain if I would stay alive. I remained hooked up to a machine that would monitor my heart beat as I slept, if it stopped an alarm would go off. Despite all of that, I grew up to be a healthy individual. I suppose I was born with a certain degree of luck. 

Anyways, my skin prickled a little at the idea that my twin might be watching over me, all the years, and that perhaps it wasn’t luck that kept me alive, but Ryan. I don’t really know, I’m not very sure. Occasionally I wonder what life would be like if he were here with me now, if maybe I am missing some fraction of myself because he’s not around. If he would be like me, or I like him…sometimes the thought leaves me a little wistful. If Ryan is standing over my shoulder and looking out for me now, I can only hope there’s nothing he will need to protect me from. 

I was poking through a box of old mementos the other day and came across a rather old picture of me and Sara from when we were kids. I am on the right, she is on the left. 

What made me want to scan it was how odd the background of the picture was. Despite the fact that I know the picture was taken during the day almost over half the picture seems to be completely dark behind the two of us, and only a fraction of the image is in the original lighting.  Anyways, I thought you all might find it interesting! Enjoy. 

(This is a dream log from the 24th of may, it was one of the most notable ones that I’ve had in the recent months and if memory serves me right it left me sleepless for hours after.)

I am a child, maybe five, six years old. I know this because I am surrounded by people much taller than me, adults. It soon becomes apparent that I am stuck in a rather large crowd, I push through the tangle of bodies feeling uneasy and frustrated, there is somewhere I need to be. An overwhelming feeling of distress is building up in my gut and my head is starting to feel as if someone has crammed it full of cotton balls. I am lost. I cry out for help to those surrounding me, but my voice is smothered by the heavy silence that fills the cracks between the bodies all around me. No one seems to know I am even here. I begin to frantically push my way through the crowd, searching for a possible way out when my hand brushes against something that’s rough and tears at my skin. My gaze turns skywards, I watch as the adults around me twist and tear growing taller until I am no longer surrounded by people, but hundreds upon hundreds of trees. I run. I run until the trees become nothing but dark blurs on an already dreary landscape. It feels like I am breathing in fire, my throat is raw, I feel as if I’m about to collapse. That’s when I see it. A tree in a clearing, but different from the others…I can’t seem to figure out how though. Its branches unfurl and twist and reach out to me, as if it were a person welcoming me with open arms. It offers me refuge.

The dream ends here.

Hello everyone, I wanted to give a quick introduction here on my new blog. My name is Molly, and I’m a 21 year old graphic arts student.

This will be mostly just for my personal use, I would like to have a place to keep track of my dreams. I do keep a dream journal, but I think it would be interesting to place them up online as well to get other peoples opinions. I’ll also be posting pieces of art that I make on occasion as well as an odd photograph here and there.

Expect to see some posts up soon, I’ll probably pull some old dreams from my journal and type them up.