Another of Those Dreams

Had trouble writing this out.

Determined to put these dreams into real words, but words just ain’t good enough. Not really. They don’t mean the same thing living it does. I didn’t live it, not really. Felt real, though. Felt more than real, felt like dying. Felt like all the horror I felt when I first had to face him down.

Dream last night, I was alone. Don’t know what happened. Why Curtis and DM weren’t around. Watched me leadin’ Windmill away, well outside a campground. Probably past midnight. Looked as awful as I feel now. No sleep, more scars. Deeper ones, on my face, didn’t even look like tattoos no more. Can’t tell if that’s just ‘cause of the dark shadows under my eyes, or if they’re honest-to-god ripped open more.

As I’m walking, I start hearing a rustling. Too loud, more than just footsteps in grass. Sounds like something else, and I couldn’t tell what. The me in the dream couldn’t tell, neither. I stop walking, keep my grip on Windmill’s reins, and look behind me.

And then my legs are pulled out from under me. I fall hard on the ground, and I’m being dragged so fast. Don’t have time to let the reins go, and they catch around my wrist. Windmill’s so strong and the pull is so strong that something’s got to give, and it’s my hand. There’s this loud snap, and I’m being pulled. Dragged by a rope around my ankles.

I get pulled further from the campsite, over rocks and then, over gravel. Scratched up so bad, and I can’t even fight. I look like a toy. A fucking doll.

And it’s a doll’s doing, and I see him in the distance. Figure wearing a Stetson and a long coat.

Then the Vision is behind me – the me watching, and whispering. Tried to get me to look at her, and I saw her beautiful face, almost met her eyes.

And then I didn’t. Jerked myself awake and that was the end of it. Couldn’t fall back asleep.

This is killing me.

Not damn near as much as it’ll kill me if that sonofabitch is still alive.