by B.C. Smeart
She awakes, sweat trickling
down from her forehead, dripping off the face of this vision of splendor, a female god of the erotic, a flower blooming in
a garden of filth. Upon entering the room where she lay in horror, I ask, "What's wrong?" seeing that she is obviously under
some strange, powerful feeling of confusion and fright. Mouth wide open, eyes staring into another realm, body frozen in time,
but mind racing towards the present; through what she would later tell me was a dream scare.
Trapped and tortured in some
dark dream state, which she had been visiting ever so often in these last few months, sleep was becoming a mind in a vice
experience, with female demons (Femons), and volcanic heat flashes that felt as though the flesh she wore would be cooked
from the bone. Scenes of young youths being torn apart by machine animals adorned with mechanical flesh. Screams echoed through
her brain's maze, vibrating with such power she thought her skull would shatter and leave a masked face to be held up by only
her cracked mind.
The older victims in her surreal
dementia were tortured in a more psychological way than the physical tearing of mind. Men and women being driven into the
noses of femons, inhaled directly into their blackened and charred brains, becoming a mind mounting mind illusion, hovering
without physical forms where thoughts and darkness reigned. Fears unleashed from hidden, buried tombs; death, ageing, embarrassment,
contorted feelings, emptiness, self-submissions, heart-breaks, all and everything at once multiplied, and twisted by the tens
of thousands. Not being able to scream or cry out loud, only feel, and feel these souls did, until total and complete insanity
of self had occurred. The most perfect and efficient of all hell's tortures!
As she comes from out of her
dream scare reality, she says in response, "I'm not sure, dear, these dreams I keep having seem to be getting worse, and worse,
I believe I'll go to that doctor you've been telling me about first thing tomorrow morning. I'm so damn tired!"
The next morning she arrives
at Dr. Stroke's office. Arize enters the tiny room and sits. The Doctor, closing the door behind him, says "You must be Arize,
Alex's wife. Am I correct?"
"Yes, yes, that's me Doctor."
"Let's say you and I cut to
the goose of the gander. Tell me about your dreams if you would, please Arize."
They're eating me alive, Doctor,
these horrific femonic figures that torture the living in such terrifying ways! They're truly insane acts, and I can't take
it any longer, please Dr. Stroke, help me! "Okay, okay Arize, you seem to be having night terrors. Let me prescribe you some
sleeping pills; they may allow your mind to bypass that stage of deep sleep in which nightmares develop. Take one around an
hour before you plan to sleep, and lay off the eating after midnight just to be safe. I'll see you in two weeks to check your
progress. Take care Arize."
Arize drives straight home
and lies down on the bed, exhausted from her dreams. Ironically, she falls asleep.
The dream begins suddenly.
Forming this new reality's landscape; a wooded area with an amphitheater and a large central dam with fountains spurting water
from its center. Behind one of the trees, the queen femon appears as a young couple pass by, and with one quick motion of
her razor clad nails, the woman is disemboweled. The male, seeing the love of his life and his unborn child mangled together
in a pile of guts and pre-developed innards, screams an earsplitting scream! In the flash of an instant, his tongue is snatched
from his opened mouth, and incinerated within the femon's gory hand. She seizes the tongueless convulsing body, and flies
up into the sanctuary of the deeper woods, leaving the hungry pigeons to their disgusting meal. Seeing all of this somehow,
through the eyes of the femon, Arize watches as the female demon begins peeling away the man like an onion until left with
what once was a love-filled heart.
Slowly coming around she begins
to verbalize her own internal screams. Like a siren starting faintly, rippling the air, loudly and spasmodically into a shock
wave of lunatic expression. Alex, rushing towards her, tries to snap her out of her hysteria, but fails. Still screaming,
and starting to tear, Alex takes her in his arms, and carries her out to the car; driving straight to the local nut hut, The
Cat's Eye Asylum. Checking her in, he then leaves for home, broken and hurting. The man could no longer deal with the insanity
that was engulfing his wife; no one could blame him.
The first day at the asylum
was quiet. Arize was examined by a psychologist, and then left to do as she wished. She wandered down to the library and began
looking for the place in her dream. "How do I know this place?" she pondered, and (poof), there it was, in a book titled Dream
Scare. The powerful female demon, the fountain, the woods; it was all real, a place in this very town, a demon possession
in the 1800's. A young woman did those things, but why was she dreaming about them?
At her next therapy session
Arize agrees to be hypnotized. While under hypnosis she begins the unconscious dream, and speaks, "a powerful demon, a soldier
in hell's army, a soul sucker, a spawn of the devil himself, Satan's daughter." The psychologist writes vigorously in his
journal as her dream is revealed.
Subject name Arize:
The patient, I believe is struggling with two different personalities. The one is trying to escape, while in unison, the other
runs towards the dream. She is in turn, driving herself mad as she realizes that she is being tortured by her own existence
in a past life. She is being driven insane by the memories of what she has done.
Suddenly, as the PhD. head
peeper begins to call for a nurse, the femon awakes. Lord Arize, the Queen Femon, daughter of Lucifer, her velvet black wings
spread from wall to wall, devouring light, leaving only darkness. Arize unhinges her jaw, opening her deformed mouth wider
than the analyst's full-length. Swallowing him in a single enormous gulp, screeching and flapping her black wings. Breaking
through the asylum walls, she flies out, heading towards the trees, the fountain, the amphitheater, the torture, her home.
Copyright B.C.
Smeart 2007
