Writer: Timothy Dumont Jr.
Co-writer: Crystal Ferguson

Friday, December 18, 2009

Entry 37: Oliver -Ben-

Most of my time is spent sleeping now but it doesn't help. When I wake I'm feeling just as drained as when I went to sleep. Maybe it's the dreams… the nightmares.

In the dream I'm standing in a room I don't recognize. I attempt to look out a window, but my body doesn't seem to want to listen. I begin to yell for help, but I hear no sound. For about ten minutes I try to move and finally I do, but not the way I want to. My body moves of its own accord toward a shotgun in the corner. I fight against it, but I am helpless to stop myself from picking up the shotgun and heading out of the room. Outside of the room I'm approached by a woman who attempts to stop me from leaving. She says that I'm sick and I should get back to bed. In response I shoot her in the face.

The whole time I fight it, but I no longer have control. I could not avert the tragedy. As the lady falls behind her I see a young girl staring wide eyed at what is left of her mother. I am screaming now attempting to stop myself, but I can't. I aim the shotgun toward the little girl and wake up.

Besides the dreams I'm worried that Carl and John have a dark agenda. The way they look at me you'd think they were hungry cannibals. I shouldn't have invited them into my home. It's too late now; my life is close to over and all I have left are the times that I'm awake. It's odd though, a name is on the tip of my tongue when ever I wake up.


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