The Descent

Hello, again. I am glad that my last post inspired some discussion. That's what it is all about, isn't it?

I have always been fascinated by dreams and the dreamy side of fantasies. I wrote this piece when thinking about those things. Those of you who have been with me for a while will recognise a little from earlier posts. But this is me, and my fantasies tend to return to the same themes.

It was a worried night, a night when the clouds chased each others across a dark sky, when the moon peeked through, now and then, as the veil was lifted. It was a night of winds and cold air. It was a night when it was hard to sleep, the kind of night that brings up nightmares and horrid thoughts.

She was lying in her bed, turning from one side to the other, slipping in and out of sleep. When she finally opened her eyes, the room was flooded with moonlight and she had thrown off the duvet, despite the cold air.

She stared at her room but she couldn't recognise it. It looked strange and twisted in the cold white light. She systematically looked at each and every detail of it, the chair, the mirror, the cupboard, to make sure it was her room.

She found every detail of her room to be as she expected and was somewhat calmer, thinking that the sense of unreal dream was just a trick of the night and the moon.

She wasn't scared, more curious, when she saw that she had been mistaken. There was one thing that wasn't as usual. She knew she had never seen the door in the wall, opposite the window before. She stared at it and realised that it would open up on the stairwell, some distance above the stairs. A silly door.

She left the bed and walked on bare feet to it. Her mind was absolutely clear and awake but yet she knew she had to be in the middle of a dream. She felt the chilly air against her skin, the thin nightgown being poor protection against the cold. Curiosity drove away discomfort.

She was surprised when she felt the door against her fingers as she touched it. It was real. She knew she had to open it.

There was nothing strange about the door, except that it shouldn't exist. She opened it with ease, there wasn't even a sound as it swung open.

She expected to see the stairs below and the landing to her left. She wasn't prepared to see what was before her. There was a stair but it started by the door and led downwards inside a tunnel. The walls were stone and this fact unsettled her more than the existence of the door and the stairs.

She stepped through the doorway. She had to, it was a dream and in dreams you have to explore what lays ahead. At least in this dream

The steps were made of stone and the walls were made of stone and a few steps down she felt as if she was inside an old castle or a dungeon, rather than her house. She would have expected the stairs in a castle to twist and turn and go round and round but this one was straight.

She continued down the steps, one by one, cold against her feet. She walked further down into darkness and soon she felt lost in the dark. She had to touch the cold stone and feel her way with her feet.

She walked cautiously and slowly, still she almost banged her head against the door ahead. She felt it with her hands and thought it a very different door from the one in her room. This one seemed heavy and old, like something in a medieval castle.

The door opened silently as she pushed it. Behind it she was met with light. She looked into a room lit by a great fireplace and a multitude of candles. She saw high backed chairs in front of the fire and a bearskin on the floor. A heavy table and a chest to the side.

'Welcome my dear.'

She hadn't seen the person in the chair. Now he seemed to appear from nowhere, standing in front of her, smiling.

'Welcome,' he continued, 'do you know where you are?'

'No,' she whispered, overcome with the suddenness of his appearance.

He was dressed in black trousers, a long black jacket, elegant but simple. He wore black boots. He seemed to be tall and slim, black haired and pale faced. His lips were red and his chin was narrow. He was smiling and he looked pleased with seeing her, although she felt no warmth in him.

'You should know,' he said, 'you created it.'

'Did I?'

'Yes, this is your imagination. This is your creation.'

'I can't remember it.'

'Don't you? I am sure you do.'

She blushed. She knew this place. She felt caught out. She gasped and looked down to make sure she was still wearing her nightgown. Images flashed through her mind. When she had been in this room before she had been naked.

'It seems so real.'

'It is real, my dear, you are in your imagination now and everything around you is as real as you are.'

'Oh.'

'Do you know why you are here?'

'No.'

'You are ready for the tour.'

'What tour?'

'The tour of your mind.'

'I am not sure...'

'There is a lot to see, many places to visit.'

'I don't think I want to.'

'This for example,' the man said and made a gesture with his hand.

The room was suddenly full of smoke. She felt fear in her heart and turned around to look for the door. The smoke turned to impenetrable fog and she felt, somehow, that the room wasn't there around her any more.

She tried to penetrate the white mist and thought that she could see the outline of the naked branches of a dead tree. She heard a thunderous noise and knew that she was on the run. Her heart was full of fear as she knew that she would perish and die should the hunters get her. She couldn't remember who they were, just that they must not catch her.

She began to run. She stumbled on the uneven ground. She didn't fall but knew she couldn't keep on running. She was exhausted already and she could hardly see the ground.

Then she saw him. In front of her loomed a shadow. She felt his presence more than saw it. Her eyes tried to penetrate the fog and could only discern his silhouette. He was on a horse, a gigantic horse and the man himself seemed to tower over her head.

Somehow she knew that her only hope rested with this dark stranger, this demon on his terrible horse.

As she stood there he approached her and came out of the mist. He was black and terrifying, his horse a monster.

He scooper her up and sat her in front of him in the saddle and took off. She held her breath as they rode on at a breathtaking speed. The misty landscape around them seemed to rush by and she wondered how the rider could know where to go.

She heard how the hunters were left behind but knew that they must not stop running. The black demon was her rescuer but he had to let his horse keep on running.

It was in that moment of complete dependence, when she knew she was at his mercy, her strange and terrifying rescuer told her to take her clothes off. It was in the exact moment when hope had been lit in her heart, when the terror had ceased to be the only element in her thoughts. It was then he had ordered her to strip.

It was awkward for her, shifting her body, still holding on to him, scared of falling, trying to move her flimsy nightgown down her shoulders, over her hips and down her legs.

It seemed to float in the air for a while and then it was gone. She was still wearing some kind of breech cloth, tied round her hips with a leather thong. She undid the knot at her hip and shifted her body to let this last garment disappear in the night.

She was clinging on to the black demon, now nude and exposed. She felt vulnerable and helpless but the colour of the dream had changed, from black and grey to include red.

Then the mist and the horse and the man seemed to begin to evaporate. She felt a sudden dizziness and then she was back in the room with the black clad pale man.

'I can't show you more,' he said, 'the image disappears. I know you wonder what the black demon will do to you, but you have no images of that.'

'I remember this fantasy,' she said, 'I felt so vulnerable.'

'But that's not all.'

'No.'

'You felt excited too.'

'That's true,' she blushed and looked down to make sure she was, indeed, still dressed in the nightgown.

'I have to leave,' she said, 'can I go back up the stairs?'

'Yes, you can, thank you for visiting.'

'Bye.'

'You will come back.'

'Will I?'

'Yes, you will.'

She hurried up the stairs and was back in her room. She got into bed and pulled the duvet over her. She lay staring, trying to fall asleep, but the memory of the strange room and the strange man, her guide, was too vivid, too frightening.

She seemed to be staring into nothingness for an eternity but as it often happens she dosed off.

The moment she dosed off she awoke again but this time in a changed room. Sun was shining and the room was back to normal. She looked at the wall and saw no door. She was back.

Captured

Fantasies tend to move in certain directions and come back to certain favourite events and themes. At least mine do. So, here is another take on one of those favourite themes. This doesn't mean I have yet covered all my ideas and have to go back to the old one. Far from it. There are still strange imaginations left.

I dreamed a strange dream tonight, I dreamed I was a captive, that I was captured.

I woke up on a great, green, endless stretch of undulating low hills. The sky was blue, the air was mild and I was alone. Besides the sky and the green grass it was only me, still clad in my nightgown.

I rose to my feet and looked around. I was scared of being alone in this vast land. It was a beautiful land but I was lonely, miserable and lonely.

Then the man on the horse appeared. He suddenly appeared from behind a hill. He was dark, his clothes were dark and grey and his horse was black. His hair was dark and his eyes were dark. He carried a sword by his side. It was, indeed, a strange dream. And as he approached me I felt naked and helpless. I had no sword, I had no protection and my nightgown was my only cover.

He spoke to me and asked me questions and I replied truthfully. We spoke in a strange tongue, a language of the dreams. He nodded his head and looked at me. Then he shrugged his shoulders and turned to ride away.

Fear filled my heart, I had thought he would help me but he was to leave me alone among the hills. He was a stranger but he was alive and I didn't want to be alone. I knew I would perish if I was alone.

I ran after him and begged him to take me with him. He looked at me and sighed and said he was going to make camp anyway. I saw that the sun was sinking and the sky had already turned red.

We made camp in the shade of a big boulder and a dry bush gave us enough wood for a small fire. He cooked some beans and some strange leaves and gave to me.

I asked him what he would do in the morning and he told me he would ride on. I asked him to take me with him but he shook his head. He had no use for a girl like me. I couldn't come with him and my heart sank. I pleaded with him.

He sat in silence for a while and then he turned to me and said he had no use for me, I would be a hindrance. I couldn't come with him...unless...

'Unless what?' I asked ready to agree to any terms or conditions.

'Unless you become my captive,' he said.

'Your captive?'

'Yes,' he said and looked at me.

I sat in silence but I knew already that I had no choice. I had only to accept it. I turned to him and nodded.

'I am your captive.'

He told me then to take off my nightgown and trembling I did so. I slipped it over my head and sat there by the fire as naked as I was when I was born. He told me to throw it on the fire and I did. We sat in silence and watched my nightgown burn.

I knew then that I had accepted his terms, I had burned my freedom. He looked at me with his dark eyes.

He was not old, nor young. He had a face that was not bitter but had seen much, done much. His eyes had seen the world. He was stern but did not seem cruel. I wondered about those things as I sat there, naked, by the fire, his captive. I knew I would find out.

He tied me hand and foot and put a blanket over me and I fell asleep. It was strange to fall asleep in a dream but I thought nothing of it then.

We woke up and I was stiff and sore after having slept bound like that and the morning was chilly. He released me and told me to make our meagre breakfast. I did as I was told and he showed me how he wanted it. I shivered in the cold morning and I looked with envy at him as he pulled his coat around his shoulders. I was still naked and I was cold.

Thus began my captivity. We travelled far. He was always moving, riding somewhere. He was not a warrior and not a merchant. I think, perhaps, he was a magician. I followed him wherever we went, over plains, through thick and lush woods, over mountains with cold and biting wind. I walked naked by his horse, sweaty in the hot sun and freezing in the cold wind.

The first time he tied my hands behind my back and a rope around my neck and led me like an animal. He tied me hand and foot in the evening. He wasn't afraid of me running away. I think he wanted to show me I was his captive.

He was a hard man, a survivor, a man strong enough to cope with whatever fate throw in his wake. But he was also gentle and kind. He laughed with me and sang by the camp fire. He told me stories and taught me songs.

I never ever doubted I was his captive. He had a whip hanging by his saddle. He didn't hesitate to take that whip to my body when I displeased him. Many an evening did I sit and tended to that whip, keeping its strands smooth and clean. I shivered as I sat, naked by the fire and worked on the whip that was to be used on my body.

I did never forget I was naked and I became even more aware when we entered a village or a town and we where greeted by the towns people and the children ran beside us and cheered and laughed and pointed. Then I knew I was a captive.

We travelled far and although I saw many strange lands my world became smaller. The stern man, my captor, was the centre of my world and I grew accustomed to him. I was miserable when he was angry and my heart sang when he laughed. I was proud when I could please him and I felt worthless when I got it wrong. When I displeased him I longed for him to whip me, to get rid of the guilt. And when he smiled at me I felt as if the sun came out again.

Still I was his captive, I was not free. I knew in my heart that I was me and that he was a stranger. He had taken me and although I wanted to please him I was not free.

He did not use me as a man may use a woman. He looked at me sometimes as I emerged from the river having bathed in the clear water or when I stretched my body and yawned by the fire. Then he looked at me in a way that made me feel less like a servant and more like a woman.

He told me at times how pleasing it was to have a woman to look at and I blushed. I started to think, in my simple mind, why he did not touch me if he was pleased with me. I thought that a man would want to do something like that with a captive woman, especially a naked, captive woman.

One evening I realised he had only been biding his time. In the night, by the fire and under the full moon he called me to him. He commanded me to my knees and then he approached me from behind. My heart was racing because I knew, in my heart, I knew, what was going to happen.

He put his hands on my body and he entered me from behind. I was astonished how strange it was. How much I had longed for it and how much I had dreaded it. I had no choice, no say in this but still I had longed for it. I hated myself for my weakness but welcomed his intrusion.

His sex in my sex and I was lost. I knew then how much I had become his captive, how much I wanted to be his captive. His presence broke down my last defence and there and then I became his.

I woke up in my bed and sat up, startled. My heart was beating hard as I looked around and saw my bed, my room. I felt my body and felt my nightgown, the one I had burned so long time ago. I felt my body and there were no marks of the whip. It was a dream, just a dream.

I laid back on my pillow, heart still beating, gathering my senses. I knew I was back in reality but I feared I had lost my heart in that dream.

The Grey Story

Dear Readers, I am, again, sorry I have taken so long to get another post up but here is a brand new story. I have to warn you though, that this is a dream story, not a spanking in sight, no nudity and no dropped knickers. Those of you who know your H. P. Lovecraft will see that I am, indeed, inspired by the master.

By the way, the picture is a close up of the electric ring from our cooker, after the explosion. It is a very old cooker, I believe it is from the 60s or 70s.

"No eye had seen, no hand had touched that book since the advent of man to this planet."

(The Shadow Out of Time, H. P. Lovecraft, 1936)

In the first dream she found herself flying over a strange and frightening landscape. Before her eyes endless vistas of dead and tormented wasteland stretched to the horizon. The colourless landscape appeared moonlit but there was no moon in the sky. Nor where there any stars or planets. She moved swiftly through an empty sky across an endless wasteland.

The wind hit her face but she sensed no joy, no pleasure. The air seemed stale despite her speed and her whole being was in agony, her soul oppressed by the weight of inevitable doom.

She wanted to cry but there were no tears, she wanted to take a deep breath but she could not fill her lungs.

In this wasted land there appeared a strange city. She knew it was an ancient city, she knew it had not been seen by humans. It was older than man, older than time. It lay there on the surface of the blistered earth, like a blasphemous prayer cut in rock.

She circled the city and in the gloomy light she started to discern some details. She saw a grand edifice in the centre of it. It had the outline of a gigantic dome crowned by a high spire. When she got closer she saw that the dome was not round, not arched but made of gigantic rocks cut in odd angles and placed in a way that made them seem to be thrown there by a giant.

Around the angled dome there lay low grey buildings. She saw no pattern, no order among the buildings, there were no streets, no plazas in the city, only oddly angled open spaces between the houses that were built in strange shapes. It appeared to her as if the whole city consisted of randomly placed shapes that seemed designed by some madness.

She saw that the shapes were not random but built deliberately as they were planned but she could not see a reason or a purpose for the strange shapes. She felt dizzy as she circled the odd city with its distorted grey buildings.

There were no windows and for a moment she thought they were only stones and this was not a city but some odd freak of nature. Then she saw that there were doors. Every building had a square, jet black openings to the interior of the buildings.

She felt herself lowered towards the city. A great horror came over her and her mind was full of fear of having to come close to those distorted structures, to have to see what dwelt inside them

Then she fainted.

She screamed as she woke up and her husband came rushing to her. She was held by strong arms and her mother and the maid came in. She cried and talked as if she was delirious for a long time before she started to calm down.

She wanted to speak of the dream, to tell about the horrible city and the doom that she knew was there but she couldn't. She could not tell anyone. She had no words for what she had seen.

She fell asleep again and this time her husband sat by her side. He was worried about her but did not know the nature of her fear, the cause of her agony. He silently prayed the it was not the madness that had fallen upon her.

The sun was shining as she woke up and slowly the terrible dream faded. She deliberately averted her eyes from the images that still lingered in her head and soon the sun and the green lawns of their house and tea that was served made her heart beat slower and the darkness dissolve.

Although she forgot about the dream the grey fear lingered. She was suddenly afraid of the dark and could no longer stand when the sun was shaded by clouds. She could not explain and she could not tell and she saw in the eyes of her mother, her husband and the maids that they feared for her.

The second dream came some weeks later, when she had started to feel at ease again and when she no longer felt that she had to leave the candle burning at the bedside to be able to go into dreamland without fear.

This dream was different. She was inside a building. The walls were grey and seemed to be made of stone, not blocks standing on each other but smooth stone as if the whole room was cut from the bedrock.

She knew she didn't belong. She knew that she should not be there. She knew she was a stranger. And she knew she was in that city, that horrible city she had seen from the sky.

She was in one of those oddly shaped buildings and when she looked around she saw that the room had more than four walls. She could not count them; five, six or even seven, she could not say but there were more than four.

She was standing on a stone step and she was holding her hands in a kind of basin that seemed to be cut from the same stone as the walls. It had the same grey colour or lack of colour. Her hands were immersed in some strange substance. She found she was kneading a repulsive kind of dough. She imagined it to be made from flour made from the rock, inedible and horrible and forbidden for humans.

Then she realised she wasn't alone. There were others in the room. She knew she could not show her surprise. She had to stay calm. She pulled the hood down over her face. The shapes, the figures that stood around her were cloaked and hooded as she was but she felt her whole body freeze, her breathing stop because of their presence.

They moved in odd, smooth movements but said nothing, gave no sound. She glanced at them from under her hood but she could not make out their shapes. She knew, though, that they were not human.

She was then forming a rounded shape from the dough that seemed to set and become hard under her hands. The ordinariness of her movements and the strangeness of the dough filled her with terror.

She saw an odd kind of instrument lying beside the shape. It had a crooked handle and an edge that had the same grey colour as the walls. She took the instrument with trembling hands and before the dough had become hard as the stone she cut the surface of it with the instrument.

She knew she had no time and felt an overwhelming urge to finish the job before the doom came over her. She cut the surface and struggled with the strange material and marked the shape with a letter, the letter K for her first name. She knew she had to do this, to mark as hers this strange shape she had created.

She didn't scream as she woke up. This time she lay panting and staring at the ceiling. She felt strangely calm. She had gone back to the city and she knew she wasn't done with it.

She could not speak of it. She could not explain and share what she had experienced and in the company of her lovely friends and family she knew that it was only a dream, only a dark shadow that came in the night and scared her.

Her husband had asked her cousin to come visit and he managed to keep her occupied with parties and theatre and all sorts of activities. She knew he was worried. She knew he did it for her, to drive away the evil he feared had come to her. He didn't understand but he knew something was amiss.

She couldn't hide her fear. He noticed how she seem to be startled by any sound when they were sitting together by the fire in the evening and how she never went to bed alone or left the room without company. He knew she was afraid of something. He knew not what it was. She didn't know what it was. Her dreams had faded but she had kept the fear.

When the third dream came she was almost prepared, almost waiting for it. She was back in the city. This time she was in one of those open areas between the houses.

She was moving among those cloaked and hooded creatures. She felt the same fear of giving away she was not one of them. She was carrying the strange loaf or shape she had made the last time she visited the city. She looked at it and saw the letter she had carved in it.

The throng of creatures seemed to move in one direction and she followed, moved among them, tried not to touch them but followed the flow of them. She saw that they were carrying things. Everyone of them were carrying something. Some of them had round things like the one she was carrying, others carried small spire like sculptures crowned with spiked spheres, others carried glowing orbs.

It was at that moment she realised that these creatures had arms and hands. This familiar detail filled her with an unexpected fear and she felt like she was about to faint. She wanted to faint. She wanted to go back to sunshine and husband and green lawns.

She moved among the oddly angled streets and more and more of the cloaked figures joined the crowd. She realised that they were moving towards the angled dome in the centre of the city.

She knew she had to go there, she knew she had to be there among those creatures and move to that dome, to that temple and there she knew she had to do what was required of her. She knew now that the round shape, the strange loaf she had baked and marked was an offering. It was a gift to that which dwelt in the dome.

She knew she should not see what was in that dome. She knew she would not return should she see it. She knew she could not give her offering to it. She looked around but she could not turn around. She had to follow.

She had come to the gigantic dome and she stood at the foot of the stair. She saw the odd angled dome towering over her head and she saw the grey steps leading up to a black opening. She saw the cloaked and hooded creatures scrambling up the stair and entering the dome. She fainted.

This time it took more than an hour before her husband could understand her ramblings. He held her close and felt the fear that held her in its grip. He held her and loved her and wanted her to be safe with him.

She was exhausted and stayed in bed the whole morning but in the afternoon she was well enough to dress and join the others. She tried to smile and say she had had a headache and not felt well but that she now was much improved. They saw that she was still shaken but they reassured her.

Later they went to the museum, the museum of natural history. Her husband knew she loved it and there was an exhibition of fossils that was new to the museum. Anything to keep her mind from wandering, the husband thought.

It was a strange place for the change to take place. She was forever changed when she fainted in the museum. It was inside the new exhibition and no one noticed what happened until she sighed and fell to the floor. Her cousin managed to hold her so she didn't hit the floor too hard and she recovered as she was carried out into the sunshine again.

Those around her didn't noticed the change at first but her husband felt it immediately. It overwhelmed him and it was the fear of that change that made him leave her side, as he had never done before and go back into the museum.

He went back to the place where she had fainted and stood in the place she had stood and he looked at the showcase she had been looking at. There was nothing special there, just a round grey rock with a fossil in its surface. He looked at it and found it odd that the fossil, black against the grey looked very much like the letter K.