the beast

The dream was intense. Whenever he thought about it, his skin crawled and he shuddered with deep icy chills of dread. He had dreamed the dream months ago, and had not thought of it again until today, when he realized that he had felt the full force of its monster’s fury earlier in the week.

The dream was set in a long, wide corridor. The corridor was full of people, and there was a wide double door at the end of it. The people were milling about aimlessly until suddenly the doors opened and a frantic crowd pressed into the corridor from the other side. They were panicked about something and trying desperately to get away from whatever it was. The panic instantly spread to the people already in the corridor, and everyone was scrambling to escape into some other undefined space away from the doors. almost everyone managed to get out of the corridor, except one person who fell and was injured in the stampede to escape. Another person tried to help him up, but the threat from beyond the door was pressing closer and he finally gave up his efforts to save his friend and fled away. The injured person lay perfectly still on the floor of the corridor in hope not to be noticed by the thing when it arrived. He had no other choice or hope since he could not get away and there was no better way to hide.

Suddenly, a dark monster burst into the corridor from behind the doors. It was black and opaque and seemed to absorb any light that shown on it, not reflecting from its surface at all. It had the rough shape of a man, with crude, incompletely formed features. It had mitten hands and feet, and its head was a stubby lump protruding from its shoulders.It had no facial features except dimly glowing red eyes. It burst into the corridor, obviously engrossed in seeking out prey to attack. It was energetic and furious, and frustrated that all the potential victims had disappeared from the corridor. It lumbered along the corridor, and nearly missed seeing the injured person on the floor. As it passed him by, it paused to notice him.

Then suddenly, it reached down and swiped at its victim with the fury of its black dark rage. In that one swift movement the victim was picked from the ground and slammed against the wall with such force that his silhouette was impressed deeply into the wall. The victim was utterly traumatized, but still alive and not physically injured. He slowly slid down out of the human-shaped impression he had left in the wall, and lay crumpled on the floor as the monster went on to seek out his next victim. There would be a next victim.

Now, months after he had forgotten the dream, it was alive and dreadful. The dark beast seemed to be a premonition of the onslaught he was enduring. He felt as though he had been slammed so hard into the wall by the loss of love that he must surely have left his impression there. He knew that his own dark fear of abandonment, and a deep unspoken rage were at the core of his heartbreak, and he knew that the monster had come to claim him now.

Having seen the beast, having felt its fury full force, he knew that it was him. He also knew that he had kept it locked away and was now finally confronting it head on. He had felt the fear and dread of it, but had not allowed its wrath to boil to the surface. He knew it was coming soon.

Friday morning began easily. The tide of tumultuous emotions was in ebb, and he decided to make a brief appearance at work. He got into the shower to freshen up and make himself presentable to appear in public. As he stood in the hot stream of water, a small current of anger began to surge up. It was undirected. It had no target or objective other than to be released. It was small at first, and he welcomed it, knowing that anger was the emotion he suppressed and feared most. As he gave this anger space to work, it grew. Soon, it was boiling, and still grew.

He stood with his back to the water as rage overtook him. He began to be frightened of the intensity of this thing that continued to surge and build to levels he had never known. His upper body and arms and neck and face took on an intensity of energy and pressure that caused him to literally fear that he might explode. He resisted the temptation to try to shut this thing down. He had longed for the freedom to tap into his anger for many years, and had never successfully done so at a deep level. Here it was, the beast he dreaded most, and he lived to tell of it.