Nightmare revisited... ugh!!!
Everyone has had recurring dreams, but have any of you had a recurring nightmare??? I keep getting the same one; I have had this dream ever since I was 4 years old . It always starts the same. There I am on a sunny afternoon in my childhood neighborhood of Fairmont Park, 15 miles southeast of Houston, TX and one mile from the Gulf of Mexico. I am following an older friend to his house for some reason. The reason and the friend have always changed throughout the years, but the friend is always and older friend who I don't completely trust. My dreams are always more vivid than reality. I can smell the humidity in the air and feel it in the southern breeze. I can hear the locusts broadcasting vibrations of sound that seem to shimmy in odd pulsations towards and away and then closer to me. The intense change in the temperature of the shirt upon my back as I walk in the radiant Texas sunlight and then the chilling dark shade of the pine trees planted within the median of Farrington Avenue, the street that separates Fairmont Park in half by running from Spencer Highway to Fairmont Parkway. I rarely used to walk amongst the tall pines within the median of Farrington, but on this particular day I do. As I follow my friend, I am looking at the large pine cones in the pine needle laden grass, smelling the pine scent fill my lungs, and brushing flakes of pine bark off the trees and smelling my hand as I pass them. I am heading towards Mr. Mercury, the local general store, and can see Rizzuto Elementary to the right just before the back of the plaza where the store is. I come to a curb marking the end of the particular median I am in. I cross the cement connector between the opposing lanes of Farrington and look both ways; ironically, I end up looking up Old Orchard, a street four blocks south of the street I live on. My friend ahead of me begins to walk diagonally to the corner of Old Orchard and Farrington. He is standing on a steel manhole that is rust colored. It has to be the eighties. He has thigh high red shorts with two white vertical stripes running down the sides of them. His shirt is a red soccer shirt with a faded Mr. Bill decal. His white socks are pulled up almost to his knees where two red bands run parallel around his leg. He has black hair that is spiky up top, very short like a crew cut over the rest of his head with mid-shoulder length back... great, the punked out mullet that all the "cool" guys had when I was a kid, I should known it was a nightmare! His skin was pale and his eyes were green. He had very thick eye brows and a lopsided smile with tiny black hairs above his upper lip; he had to be about 13 or 14. I have the feeling his name is Rick. I don't know why. I am about 10 in this dream. I am a toe-head blonde with a short boxy spike, tan skin, and am rather lanky and thin. I am wearing dark blue corduroy OP shorts that are thigh high, a grey, sky blue, and navy blue half top, and I am bare footed; I usually ran around barefooted in those days... heck, I still do for the most part! I am standing in the middle of the lane of Farrington Ave. looking apprehensively at my friend. I decide to walk with him up the south side sidewalk of Old Orchard. Its funny, but I could actually see in real detail the multitude of varying ranchers that lined our wide streets of Fairmont Park. Occasionally, a house deviated from that recipe with a large two story or Georgian brickfront home similar to our next door neighbors, The McKeys. Walking side by side and talking about secrets we have on other local children, we make a right up the driveway of a house. It is his house. It is one of the Georgian brick homes; it has the light tan bricks with white mortar and white wooden trim, white pillars on the concrete front porch, and an always open vacant garage. Being Southern, we enter through the garage door. We are in a kitchen that smells cool and of eucalyptus. The counter and sink is on the left side of the kitchen where I can see the glowing greenness of the thick bladed Texas crab grass in his long, thin backyard that is lined with some type of bushes; flowers are shooting up from round rocks surrounding a round picnic table in the center of the yard. My friend, Rick, I suppose, is in the fridge and I can't see him because of the open door. I can hear him gulping down something curious in large chugs. "Jamie, do you want somethin' to drink? We got KoolAid, tea, milk, rootbeer, Coke, Mr. Pibb....."
I always opt for Mr. Pibb, it always was and always will be my favorite soda. He hands me the 2 liter bottle. I chug from it until the carbonation burns my throat and I burp burning my nose as I exhale out of it. A boy always drinks from the fridge... no dirty dishes to deal with. I put the cap back on and hand it back. "Wanna go see my room?" Rick says. I follow him out of the kitchen, through the living room to a hallway; we go left and pass two or three doors and make another left to another hallway. His room is the second door on the right. I have seen these types homes in Texas. They have a small atrium in the center of the house that is usually where the family hangs out... in the center of a backwards "J" set parallel to the street. I have only been in one before. They are larger than average homes for the area I live in and of a newer style; it is odd that this type of house would be in the classic section of Fairmont Park. The smell of th ehouse changed as we made our way from the eucalyptus smelling kitchen and living room. Now, the house smelled warm and of male musk and dirty socks, typical of a boy's room. We tend to hide our dirty clothes. We enter his room and I immediately am enthralled in looking inside a huge aquarium for whatever is inside of it. In this dream, it is a pair of pythons. Now, the dream gets weird. I look outside the window and it is night. I have the feeling of vertigo and the room is spinning, yet I lean against the aquarium still standing. When the room stops moving, I somehow know the layout of the house has changed from what it once was and I am confused. My friend is on his knees before his closet with his back to me. I walk over to him and grab his shoulder and he starts to shake and rumble. I jump back and realize that the only light on is a nightlite. I reach out and flick the light switch. He is still shaking and making horrible gurgle and growl noises. His legs seem more muscular and hairier. "Rick (or whatever his name is), are you okay?" I ask. He turns around and his eyes are orange with red outlining a slightly elliptical pupil. His lips are paler and drawn in a wicked grimace with fangs protruding from beyond them dripping saliva tinted with blood. Now he is standing before me and I am paralyzed with fear. I can do nothing but watch him. He is getting hairier by the moment and thicker in mass. He reaches up with clawed hands and rips off his shirt and shorts. His chest is rippled with muscles that are becoming quickly covered with coarse clack hair. His cock is hanging low and rising becoming quite large and hard as it attaches to his stomach like that of a dogs. His balls darken into a black pouch the size of a base ball. His legs kink as they grow more muscular and thrust him forward on all fours. His gnarled long fingers adorned with sharp blade-like talons land only a foot from my bare feet. His back is rippling and making a cracking sound. His ass cheeks are pulsating and a thick "V" is forming at his tailbone; he is growing a tail. His socks with the red stripes rip from his legs exposing muscular calves. His Converse Allstars are shredded with long talons sticking out of their fronts. I look back up his body towards his head and can see that his neck has thickened with muscle and sinew. His entire body is covered in coarse looking hair that I can barely see his white skin through. "Rick!?" I yell. Momentarily, I think maybe he is still my friend and just trying to show me something neat. Then, he looks up and my hearts start beating fast and furious. His eyes are now red with a bright insane orange ring around them and he has pointy ears. The teeth in his half-muzzle are wet with saliva and I can smell his stinking breath. He lets out a deep and very excited roar that seems to rumble from within his body shaking the room and blasting my face and neck with a steamy heat... I find my feet and haul ass out of that room, turning and shutting the door. The house is dark with the exception of the eerie cheery nightlites. I hear him growling and things breaking as the fall of his dresser and shelves. Then, I hear a deep and demonic guttural chuckle that chills me to the bone almost exhausting my senses. I run down the hall the way that I thought I came in and smack into a thick glass window. Beyond it, I can see the dark yard with the high wooden fence. A large Texas moon illuminates the outside casting dark shadows and blue light on the concrete patio. Scratching and splintering of wood from behind me causes my heart to skip a beat and I dive inside the nearest doorway and kick it shut. It is completely black. My back is up against a cold metal object. I know it is a dryer. There is the terrycloth to my right. I am shaking uncontrollably, but am able to roll forward to my knees and line the bottom of the doorway with it. I then stand on shaky legs and search the wall for a switch. No switch. I turn around and walk forward. I get whacked in the head by a shelf. Rubbing my forehead, the sharp pain dulls into an ache and I feel something on my right ear... a thick string. I reach it and yank it hard. It gives a little and I hear a slight thud from above. I put my hands forward and walk until I feel the cold surface of the wall beyond the washer and dryer below the shelf in front of me. I find the switch and flick it. I am standing amongst a multitude of various colored wash, white walls, white vinyl floor, white washer and dryer... I hear a crashing and a thundering sound coming down the hall. More splintering wood and the echoes of a furious breathing beast. The deep sound chills me to action. It sounds as if the beast is searching the rooms of the hallway one by one,, devastating them in an effort to execute his search quickly. I have seconds to do something. There are no windows in this room I occupy. I pull the string and a trapdoor comes down from overhead. I pray that it isn't loud and squeaky like the attic door at my house. There isn't a ladder to unfold. I spy a aluminum step ladder next to some cleaning mops and a bucket in the corner. I grab it. I hear the door to the door next to the laundry room smash. I pause and can hear the beast slamming and banging the closet doors and ripping through the mattress of that room. I think I can even hear the ripping of the carpet under the beast's muscled weight and sharp toe claws. I open the ladder and it squeaks. The noise next door stops immediately. I know he is coming for me. I hear him heading out of room in a mad dash. I reach behind me and turn the lock. He bangs into the locked door almost completely breaking it. His roars of anger are echoing in my ears. I step up the ladder and launch myself into the attic. I skin my knee on the framing to the trap entrance. The smell of heat and fiberglass are all I am aware of in the darkness. I turn and feel the dirt and dust on my skinned knee as I reach down and try to pinch the knot of the string-pull. I manage to pinch it and pull hard enough to pull the string through. I yank the trap door shut just as the beast breaks through the door. Inches below me, I hear him growling and panting angrily as his razor sharp claws scratch the wooden trap door. I stand up and feel around for a bulb. I find it and I turn the bulb. LIGHT! I see the angled walls of an attic dormer with the puffy pink clouds of insulation. Around me are boxes of all sizes. Only a portion of the attic has plywood down on the floor, so I am limited to where I can step; I must step on the plywood or on the rafters. I can hear glass breaking and vibrations below me as if the beast below if breaking down walls. I must think. If I hide in the boxes, I am a sitting duck. I turn around and start walking across the rafters in a slow, but steady pace so I don't give the beast an idea of where I am above him. As I walk toward the end of the segment of attic, I realize that my shadow is casted in front of me and I can't see exactly where I am walking, plus I am far enough away from the light bulb that the light is very low. I continue on feeling beeds of sweat and the stench of fear rise from me. I reach the end of the portion of attic I entered through the trap door. Now, I must turn right. As I reach up and hold on to the upper rafters with my hands, I begin to turn the corner into an unlit portion of the attic. Behind me I hear scratching and clawing, ripping and tearing, and the excited and furious roar of the beast I came here with so willingly. He is ripping through the ceiling. I turn and look back to see boxes flying and slashed items rolling to and fro. I step into the shadowy darkness and continue walking the rafters more quickly. I see the beasts head emerge above the attic floor as I walk out of sight. I am now in the darkness striding across rafters. I hear the beast ripping apart the multitude of boxes. He thinks I am in one. I walk faster, feeling sweat drip from my brow. I am now at the end of the second section and must make another right. I can tell by the eaves of the roof that my hands are guiding me with. I do so and try to maintain a rhythm. I itch and I am shaking. Tears are falling from my eyes. My heart is pounding so hard that my chest hurts. The beats is right around the corner ripping apart boxes like they are me. I don't even want to think about what he would do to me when the rewarding rip and wet heat my body would give the beast compares to cardboard. I have made it about 10 feet into the third section of attic and realize that I don't know where I am going. I was just leaving where I was. I have no where to go. I shake harder and fear causes me to begin to heave and whimper as I continue. The sweat is running down my face, body and legs. It is soaking into the warm wood of the attic and I know the beast can smell me. My right knee gives as I try to put weight on it and it slides from the thin rafter. The weight of trying to catch my fall pushes my foot through the ceiling of the house and I am up to my thigh in home. The growling stops. The ripping stops. He has heard me. I hear scratching on wood and the deep guttural grunting of exhausted beast breathing. I feel the thud of the beast's pursuit. He is coming at a faster pace than I am going. He will be at me in a short moment. I try to go faster. I can't see and my sweaty hands are sliding in the eaves of the attic as I try to escape. Now, I can smell the beast's breath. I know it can see me because of the change in the way it grunts. It now sounds more menacing and less desperate. It sounds determined and mean. Between the grunts, I hear the liquidic sound of it lapping and swallowing its own drool at the anticipation of reaching me. I go faster across the rafters and he follows faster. I can now feel the vibrations like they are next to me. I can smell the wet fur. I sense the mass of its enormous body. I feel the heat of its breathing. I know it is reaching out to my young flesh. I feel a claw touch down on my shoulder and sting as it scratches me. I jump forward and land between rafters. Down I fall through the ceiling and into the living room of the house. I land on my back and the wind is knocked out of me, but I scramble immediately off the broken table and to my feet. I hyperventilate as I run from the living room and bare left through the kitchen. I hear and feel the thud of the beast as I go. I feel the carpet give way to the vinyl floor. I can feel the beast looking at my back as it races towards me. I turn to look back and slip. I fall and skin my other knee on the vinyl. The beast is practically at me, so I hurriedly open the refridgerator door to block it from me. I have only seconds left. I see its clawed feet below the fridge door and kick hard, knocking it from its feet. I am on my feet and running before the beast hits the floor. I make it to the garage door and exit left out of it. I do not know if it is going to chase me into the night. I just run like the wind across the smooth concrete of the garage. As I feel the cool smoothness give way to the warm coarseness of the drive way and finally the stinging sharpness of the street, I hear a bellowing howl. As I run, lights go on in houses I pass. The howl is a single continued ringing in my ear as I run home in the Texas night under a huge full Texas moon!
I LOVE but also really HATE that dream... and it is a true dream that I actually have. Sometimes, the house is different, the friend is different, the way I escape is different, but I am always being pursued by some fiendish werewolf that is just amazingly real; my imagination puts Hollywood magic to shame BIGTIME... I wake up shaking with the cold sweats and a bursting bladder everytime I have this dream. Sometimes, I cry... and sometimes, I am scared to get out of bed... most of the time, I am left feeling all twisted like I have been on another planet. But, if you could see the moon in these dreams!!! That is beautiful! I still have all of my secondary and tertiary thoughts in these dreams. For example, as I am walking under the pines, I wonder why the hell I am doing this? or I will acknowledge the fact that I don't live in TX anymore... or the fact that I am now 30 years old. I guess once I give in to the dream, it takes me over... I am 10 again. VIVIDLY TEN!!! Happy Halloween!!! :)
I always opt for Mr. Pibb, it always was and always will be my favorite soda. He hands me the 2 liter bottle. I chug from it until the carbonation burns my throat and I burp burning my nose as I exhale out of it. A boy always drinks from the fridge... no dirty dishes to deal with. I put the cap back on and hand it back. "Wanna go see my room?" Rick says. I follow him out of the kitchen, through the living room to a hallway; we go left and pass two or three doors and make another left to another hallway. His room is the second door on the right. I have seen these types homes in Texas. They have a small atrium in the center of the house that is usually where the family hangs out... in the center of a backwards "J" set parallel to the street. I have only been in one before. They are larger than average homes for the area I live in and of a newer style; it is odd that this type of house would be in the classic section of Fairmont Park. The smell of th ehouse changed as we made our way from the eucalyptus smelling kitchen and living room. Now, the house smelled warm and of male musk and dirty socks, typical of a boy's room. We tend to hide our dirty clothes. We enter his room and I immediately am enthralled in looking inside a huge aquarium for whatever is inside of it. In this dream, it is a pair of pythons. Now, the dream gets weird. I look outside the window and it is night. I have the feeling of vertigo and the room is spinning, yet I lean against the aquarium still standing. When the room stops moving, I somehow know the layout of the house has changed from what it once was and I am confused. My friend is on his knees before his closet with his back to me. I walk over to him and grab his shoulder and he starts to shake and rumble. I jump back and realize that the only light on is a nightlite. I reach out and flick the light switch. He is still shaking and making horrible gurgle and growl noises. His legs seem more muscular and hairier. "Rick (or whatever his name is), are you okay?" I ask. He turns around and his eyes are orange with red outlining a slightly elliptical pupil. His lips are paler and drawn in a wicked grimace with fangs protruding from beyond them dripping saliva tinted with blood. Now he is standing before me and I am paralyzed with fear. I can do nothing but watch him. He is getting hairier by the moment and thicker in mass. He reaches up with clawed hands and rips off his shirt and shorts. His chest is rippled with muscles that are becoming quickly covered with coarse clack hair. His cock is hanging low and rising becoming quite large and hard as it attaches to his stomach like that of a dogs. His balls darken into a black pouch the size of a base ball. His legs kink as they grow more muscular and thrust him forward on all fours. His gnarled long fingers adorned with sharp blade-like talons land only a foot from my bare feet. His back is rippling and making a cracking sound. His ass cheeks are pulsating and a thick "V" is forming at his tailbone; he is growing a tail. His socks with the red stripes rip from his legs exposing muscular calves. His Converse Allstars are shredded with long talons sticking out of their fronts. I look back up his body towards his head and can see that his neck has thickened with muscle and sinew. His entire body is covered in coarse looking hair that I can barely see his white skin through. "Rick!?" I yell. Momentarily, I think maybe he is still my friend and just trying to show me something neat. Then, he looks up and my hearts start beating fast and furious. His eyes are now red with a bright insane orange ring around them and he has pointy ears. The teeth in his half-muzzle are wet with saliva and I can smell his stinking breath. He lets out a deep and very excited roar that seems to rumble from within his body shaking the room and blasting my face and neck with a steamy heat... I find my feet and haul ass out of that room, turning and shutting the door. The house is dark with the exception of the eerie cheery nightlites. I hear him growling and things breaking as the fall of his dresser and shelves. Then, I hear a deep and demonic guttural chuckle that chills me to the bone almost exhausting my senses. I run down the hall the way that I thought I came in and smack into a thick glass window. Beyond it, I can see the dark yard with the high wooden fence. A large Texas moon illuminates the outside casting dark shadows and blue light on the concrete patio. Scratching and splintering of wood from behind me causes my heart to skip a beat and I dive inside the nearest doorway and kick it shut. It is completely black. My back is up against a cold metal object. I know it is a dryer. There is the terrycloth to my right. I am shaking uncontrollably, but am able to roll forward to my knees and line the bottom of the doorway with it. I then stand on shaky legs and search the wall for a switch. No switch. I turn around and walk forward. I get whacked in the head by a shelf. Rubbing my forehead, the sharp pain dulls into an ache and I feel something on my right ear... a thick string. I reach it and yank it hard. It gives a little and I hear a slight thud from above. I put my hands forward and walk until I feel the cold surface of the wall beyond the washer and dryer below the shelf in front of me. I find the switch and flick it. I am standing amongst a multitude of various colored wash, white walls, white vinyl floor, white washer and dryer... I hear a crashing and a thundering sound coming down the hall. More splintering wood and the echoes of a furious breathing beast. The deep sound chills me to action. It sounds as if the beast is searching the rooms of the hallway one by one,, devastating them in an effort to execute his search quickly. I have seconds to do something. There are no windows in this room I occupy. I pull the string and a trapdoor comes down from overhead. I pray that it isn't loud and squeaky like the attic door at my house. There isn't a ladder to unfold. I spy a aluminum step ladder next to some cleaning mops and a bucket in the corner. I grab it. I hear the door to the door next to the laundry room smash. I pause and can hear the beast slamming and banging the closet doors and ripping through the mattress of that room. I think I can even hear the ripping of the carpet under the beast's muscled weight and sharp toe claws. I open the ladder and it squeaks. The noise next door stops immediately. I know he is coming for me. I hear him heading out of room in a mad dash. I reach behind me and turn the lock. He bangs into the locked door almost completely breaking it. His roars of anger are echoing in my ears. I step up the ladder and launch myself into the attic. I skin my knee on the framing to the trap entrance. The smell of heat and fiberglass are all I am aware of in the darkness. I turn and feel the dirt and dust on my skinned knee as I reach down and try to pinch the knot of the string-pull. I manage to pinch it and pull hard enough to pull the string through. I yank the trap door shut just as the beast breaks through the door. Inches below me, I hear him growling and panting angrily as his razor sharp claws scratch the wooden trap door. I stand up and feel around for a bulb. I find it and I turn the bulb. LIGHT! I see the angled walls of an attic dormer with the puffy pink clouds of insulation. Around me are boxes of all sizes. Only a portion of the attic has plywood down on the floor, so I am limited to where I can step; I must step on the plywood or on the rafters. I can hear glass breaking and vibrations below me as if the beast below if breaking down walls. I must think. If I hide in the boxes, I am a sitting duck. I turn around and start walking across the rafters in a slow, but steady pace so I don't give the beast an idea of where I am above him. As I walk toward the end of the segment of attic, I realize that my shadow is casted in front of me and I can't see exactly where I am walking, plus I am far enough away from the light bulb that the light is very low. I continue on feeling beeds of sweat and the stench of fear rise from me. I reach the end of the portion of attic I entered through the trap door. Now, I must turn right. As I reach up and hold on to the upper rafters with my hands, I begin to turn the corner into an unlit portion of the attic. Behind me I hear scratching and clawing, ripping and tearing, and the excited and furious roar of the beast I came here with so willingly. He is ripping through the ceiling. I turn and look back to see boxes flying and slashed items rolling to and fro. I step into the shadowy darkness and continue walking the rafters more quickly. I see the beasts head emerge above the attic floor as I walk out of sight. I am now in the darkness striding across rafters. I hear the beast ripping apart the multitude of boxes. He thinks I am in one. I walk faster, feeling sweat drip from my brow. I am now at the end of the second section and must make another right. I can tell by the eaves of the roof that my hands are guiding me with. I do so and try to maintain a rhythm. I itch and I am shaking. Tears are falling from my eyes. My heart is pounding so hard that my chest hurts. The beats is right around the corner ripping apart boxes like they are me. I don't even want to think about what he would do to me when the rewarding rip and wet heat my body would give the beast compares to cardboard. I have made it about 10 feet into the third section of attic and realize that I don't know where I am going. I was just leaving where I was. I have no where to go. I shake harder and fear causes me to begin to heave and whimper as I continue. The sweat is running down my face, body and legs. It is soaking into the warm wood of the attic and I know the beast can smell me. My right knee gives as I try to put weight on it and it slides from the thin rafter. The weight of trying to catch my fall pushes my foot through the ceiling of the house and I am up to my thigh in home. The growling stops. The ripping stops. He has heard me. I hear scratching on wood and the deep guttural grunting of exhausted beast breathing. I feel the thud of the beast's pursuit. He is coming at a faster pace than I am going. He will be at me in a short moment. I try to go faster. I can't see and my sweaty hands are sliding in the eaves of the attic as I try to escape. Now, I can smell the beast's breath. I know it can see me because of the change in the way it grunts. It now sounds more menacing and less desperate. It sounds determined and mean. Between the grunts, I hear the liquidic sound of it lapping and swallowing its own drool at the anticipation of reaching me. I go faster across the rafters and he follows faster. I can now feel the vibrations like they are next to me. I can smell the wet fur. I sense the mass of its enormous body. I feel the heat of its breathing. I know it is reaching out to my young flesh. I feel a claw touch down on my shoulder and sting as it scratches me. I jump forward and land between rafters. Down I fall through the ceiling and into the living room of the house. I land on my back and the wind is knocked out of me, but I scramble immediately off the broken table and to my feet. I hyperventilate as I run from the living room and bare left through the kitchen. I hear and feel the thud of the beast as I go. I feel the carpet give way to the vinyl floor. I can feel the beast looking at my back as it races towards me. I turn to look back and slip. I fall and skin my other knee on the vinyl. The beast is practically at me, so I hurriedly open the refridgerator door to block it from me. I have only seconds left. I see its clawed feet below the fridge door and kick hard, knocking it from its feet. I am on my feet and running before the beast hits the floor. I make it to the garage door and exit left out of it. I do not know if it is going to chase me into the night. I just run like the wind across the smooth concrete of the garage. As I feel the cool smoothness give way to the warm coarseness of the drive way and finally the stinging sharpness of the street, I hear a bellowing howl. As I run, lights go on in houses I pass. The howl is a single continued ringing in my ear as I run home in the Texas night under a huge full Texas moon!
I LOVE but also really HATE that dream... and it is a true dream that I actually have. Sometimes, the house is different, the friend is different, the way I escape is different, but I am always being pursued by some fiendish werewolf that is just amazingly real; my imagination puts Hollywood magic to shame BIGTIME... I wake up shaking with the cold sweats and a bursting bladder everytime I have this dream. Sometimes, I cry... and sometimes, I am scared to get out of bed... most of the time, I am left feeling all twisted like I have been on another planet. But, if you could see the moon in these dreams!!! That is beautiful! I still have all of my secondary and tertiary thoughts in these dreams. For example, as I am walking under the pines, I wonder why the hell I am doing this? or I will acknowledge the fact that I don't live in TX anymore... or the fact that I am now 30 years old. I guess once I give in to the dream, it takes me over... I am 10 again. VIVIDLY TEN!!! Happy Halloween!!! :)
posted by virtual madness unleashed at 10:04 PM
2 Comments:
Yes, your imagination puts hollywood to shame....that was fantastic! I couldn't stop reading!
Thanks Roo... that means alot to me! I am glad you like it. Wanna try the dream out?!
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