(Note from Dr. Zombie: I wrote this while I was on vacation last week after having a pretty wicked nightmare. I've toyed with the idea of trying to convey the strange world I see when I close my eyes for years. This is a sad attempt.)
In Ex Oblivione, H.P. Lovecraft wrote, "
Far to the east of the city,is a university. It is mostly a place where I have those stupid dreams of going to classes naked and the indignity of having to leave my wife and children to move back into a dorm rooms. The campus itself is a place lost in time. It is a former world's fair site, and has the feel of Walt Disney's original plan for Disneyland. It is an anachronism in that it is the 50's version of what the future will look like; only it's now only old, uncared for, and filled with students I once long to meet, then met and went to classes with, and now vwho look at me with undisguised disgust because I've grown old and no longer fit in there. The campus itself has walkways, and the classrooms are in buildings that are shaped liked Flash Gordon rocket ships. The library sits at the center of the campus, a round building like the abdomen of a white concrete spider, with mirror-like windows. It is surrounded by empty fountains. It moves up and down on a spire like a massive version of those old amusement park spire rides. It frequently gets stuck, especially when you need to be somewhere. The dorms are in a building on the east end of campus, and the building soars upward with at least 100 or more floors. It has claustrophobic elevators, tiny rooms, and miles of steps and elevator shafts.
Behind the house is a dark strip of wood with a twisting dirt path that leads to an open field. This is one of the many bright places in my dream world. It always seems warm there, and it feels like mid-summer dusk. The wind blows the tall grass gently, and there are several willow trees and the eerie green twinkle of fireflies in the growing gloom. There's a pond there, with a long dock where I often sit quietly, listening to the sound of crickets and the buzz of small insects. I seldom have nightmares there, although a few times, I've fled hordes of zombies to the very edge of the dock to take refuge in a small rowboat I have moored there. Once, the serial killer, Carl, pursued me there and shot at me as I hid under the dock in the warm water. I felt the last of his bullets strike my head and I jerked awake, screaming in pain, depriving him of yet another kill.
There are other places in my dreamlands. I've spent almost 40 years exploring it, and like I said, I could draw a map of all the places and their relationship to one another. There's the lighthouse that overlooks where the dark river flows into the sea miles away from the town and perched above craggy bluffs. I go there sometimes to watch the yellow moon travel across the sky and read. There's the train station near the center of town, a large place with shops and people who scurry to the university or on to other places outside of my dream city. There's the endless rows of bungalows and colonials in a suburb to the southeast of town, eerily abandoned long ago like the test towns the goverenment built in the 40's in the Nevada desert.
I sometimes get story ideas from the nightmares I can remember, but - truthfully - I can't write about a lot of the people and monsters I meet there. They're too terrible to share with the world.
People will begin to think I need therapy.