Had another dream. Not as dreadful as the one before, but still just as strange. I was once again in my “home” watching television. No snuff films were involved this time, thankfully. Instead, what played out on the screen was another strange perspective…
I watched myself walking through a most unnatural landscape… The world was barren. Desolate. There was no greenery – only a disgusting, distorted mass of purple and black covering every surface. I felt a connection to this place… It felt as though it were “mine”, which, despite its deplorable state, filled me with a sense of… pride? I can’t understand why.
My television self began to ascend a large structure. Upon reaching its summit, I approached a throne donned in a familiar symbol. My television self sat in it and stared back at me with a sneer. Anger began to build up within me once again. This “me” didn’t care about the horrid state of “his” world – he only cared that it was “his”, regardless of the consequences.
Disgusted, I stood up and began to exit the room. As I did so, I heard yet another tape ejecting from the VCR. I entered into a small study. Though the walls were lined with books, their pages were all blank, sadly. There was one book of interest, however… A journal. It sat atop a desk, engraved with a familiar name… “Nocta”.
That name… I heard it in my dream from before, too… I opened the book only to find excerpts from my journal – the one that I’m writing in right now. There were even excerpts from this very entry… I suppose my subconscious mind knew that I would later document this dream while I was having it. Odd.
The next part is a bit hard to remember… I only recall standing up to leave and coming face to face with that same masked man. I think I remember him reaching towards me just before I awoke… I’m not sure. I may be conflating two separate dreams into one.
Still, though… “Nocta”. Could it be a subconscious clue hinting towards my former identity? It doesn’t sound particularly familiar, but it’s all I have to go off of for now…
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