I have failed dearly in preventing the machinations of my mind from conjuring images of blasphemous entities. While I love the assorted works of good old LoveCraft, namely the Call Of Cthulhu, they plague my unconscious mind as I sleep.
Just the other night for example, I dreamt of being locked deep below the Earth and shackled alongside some other poor chaps. Blood and viscera stained the walls and wooden floors, as screams of pain rang out down the hall. One by one those around me were taken by hooded men to another room and undoubtedly ritualistically sacrificed to an unnamed profane deity. I am certain that was the cause of their deaths for two reasons. The first being the language in which the men used was unfamiliar to me, as well as how it painfully rung in my ears in pitches no man should make. Second, I made a daring escape after knocking over one of my captors and just as I was about to escape from the dreadful place, reality crumbled away and a murky blackness overtook my sight.
Despite being unable to see, I was acutely aware of being watched by something archaic, knowing, arcane and vile. The last thing I recall before waking was being consumed by a maw filled with geometrically incorrect teeth.
I am thankful to not have seen what sort of daemon my mind crafted to taunt me in my dreams. And while I know reading these short stories is causing me to see such frightening visages, I can’t stop reading them.