Ugh
I had a bad dream last night. A horrifying dream.
I was at a camp, like a summer, outdoors and campfire camp. I recognized being with the guys in a room that looked like Alex's basement, but we were talking about how Alex had died, twice... and each time he'd been replaced with a clone. The person that was Alex looked like him... except he was really small and his eyes seemed to glisten. His eyes were almost black.
I went with Scottie to one of the larger cabins, and he showed me that he had a trap door that led to a basement-like storage area. We went down there looking for something, and I immediately took place in a corner, while he started rummaging through a box in the corner to my right.
The only light we had was a flashlight. I started scanning the room and I saw... there were bodies littering the basement. One that was inside a broken crate... all I could see was a mangled face peering out through a hole in the side. There was another one hanging above the crate... it's head was twisted to the side. As I scanned over, there seemed to be one sitting in an adjacent room. Just sitting. It's eyes and mouth were wide open... he seemed to be staring into space. Behind him, it looked like another body was pinned to the wall by. Scanning further, there was one more body laying on the ground between me and the stairs to get back to the cabin.
I asked Scottie how long they'd been there. "I don't know," he said, "the one in the crate's always been here, but the others just collected over time."
Looking over at the one that seemed to be sitting, it struck me that it's eyes had seemed to move since I last looked at it. I started asking Scottie questions about it... but the body was answering my questions for him by simple, very slow shakes and nods of it's head.
"Scottie," I said, "That one moved it's eyes." It nodded it's head.
Seeing the nod, I proclaimed "It's not dead!" It slowly turned it's head from side to side. "It IS dead?" It nodded.
"I think it's looking at me, Scottie." It nodded again.
The body seemed to turn it's head to me. Horrified, I turned the flashlight to another part of the room, attempting to take my attention off of it. "What kind of dreams must they have," I said. Suddenly I heard a voice proclaim;
"Don't talk about my dreams. Let's talk about... Scottie's dreams." I turned the light towards where the dead man had been sitting, and it was gone. Slowly panning to Scottie, I saw the man, with ripped clothing and covered in blood and collected dust and dirt, standing directly behind Scottie.
I couldn't do anything in time. The man killed Scottie, and I dropped the flashlight in an attempt to run out. I must have tripped over the body or another crate (or maybe the same crate) on the way out, but I the man said something to me as I lay on the floor. I don't remember what it was.
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