This post may seem a little disjointed and out of sync, but that’s only because I’m attempting to recount the most fascinating dream I had the pleasure of having last night.
For starters, I was a little girl again, and I was attending a birthday party for some other little girl that in my conscious mind I can’t recall ever meeting. She was adorable, as was I, dressed in our frilly party dresses and polished little church shoes. But the entire scene was terrifyingly dark, even when it was supposed to be daylight outside. Together the girl and I snuck away from the elaborate princess themed party and went to play in the expansive mansion where the party was held. On the upper floors someone had made the mistake of leaving a square shaped hole in the floor that was a direct drop to a platform on the floor beneath, which also happened to be surrounded by water. In our game, I jumped through the hole and landed easily on my feet. My playmate, wasn’t so fortunate. She fell into the water and I stood there, watching her drown.
After my playmate was dead I returned to the party as a teenager, ready to eat my weight in cake and enjoy the festivities. But there was something off, all of the party guests appeared to be in mourning. I instantly panicked. Did they find her body? Did they know I’d let her die?Would I be arrested for murder? I tried to calm myself, repeating the mantra of ‘I’m innocent’ over and over until I’d convinced myself that I truly hadn’t done anything wrong. And this is when the police show up, a butch female detective who’s eyes zeroed in on me the second she arrived. She tried to pry the truth out of me but I stuck to the story I’d created in my head, never once slipping in my witness testimony as I fed her lie after lie.
The scene changes there, and so does the police officer. Instead of being a woman, he’s suddenly a very attractive man who finds himself researching the occult for the case in which I was involved. Determined to prove my innocence I accompany him into a world of darkness and satanic worship to find out what really happened to the little girl.
In our quest we happen upon a school, mid nineteen twenties style red brick, embellished with steel bars and gothic fences that fit the theme of the schools in that era. And, from the locals we were told that there were tournaments being held in the basement, fights to the death that were always won by one girl, a beautiful dark-haired teenager with a vicious glint in her eye. In this dream, she was represented by the symbol of a black goat, one most associated with Satan Worshipers and those who dabbled in black magic. The detective knew we’d found our prime suspect and implored me to go under cover as a participant in the tournament, equipping me with nothing more than a tiny concealable blade to protect myself. I entered. And I won. I was the black goat. I was the killer who murdered girls of my own age for self satisfaction and for the monetary reward provided by the tournament.
Fiction for the Masses 