Despair

Hello All,

I've had a very bad day, and feel very alone. It's one of those rare days I wish I had someone to hug me (I'm not a touchy-feely person). I feel hopeless and pathetic. I decided it might help divert me for a little while, if I tried to recount a dream from about 7 and a half years ago, as I wish I could take myself out of my life and start a new one.

I once had dream I was playing in the forest (as I often did when I was younger), and came upon a ruined house. The house still had a roof, but this cabin was so old and overgrown by the forest that a tree next to it had grown to enormous stature, died and fell over. The cavern formed by the up-heaved roots made a hill the cabin now sat on. As I approached the cabin I saw a very old man, who looked a little like Louis Armstrong, in a rocking chair. He was very nice to me, so I made it a regular habit to visit him. He said his house was all he needed

I often wondered how old the house might be because there was no longer any obvious road or driveway near it. As I furthered my friendship with the old man, a deformed man began to befriend us and join our little group. I have to admit he scared me, but the old man seemed familiar with him, so I went along with his friendship. This deformed man really looked strange, hardly like a man at all.

He had a head discolored and misshapen like a russet potato. He had only a few hairs coming out of the top of his head, but they were thick and leathery like mice tales. He had a large hump on his back, and he was always dressed in burlap and carried a stick for a cane. His eyes were so small they were the size of pencil erasers, and seemed deflated and flat. He wore thick spectacles. All of a sudden, a long time passed since I was able to see these two.

I was visiting the mall one day, but it was closing and I almost got locked in, but as I came to the glass front doors, they opened for me as if they were automatic (which they weren't). For some reason I was in a very good mood, and skipped through the parking lot looking for my car. I soon noticed a path in the woods that I realized was a way to get to the old cabin. Despite the sinking sun, I decided to visit my old friends.

When I got to the cabin, it looked the same as before, with moss covering the roof as if it had been thatched with it. Only the deformed man was there, and there was sad harmonica music, but I couldn't see anyone playing a harmonica. I went on the porch and began to talk to the deformed man, waiting for the old man to come out. It's then I noticed a skeleton laying face down in the mud, just off the porch. The bones looked withered and weak like dead weeds. I knew it must be the remains of the old man.

The deformed man started acting oddly like the old man, sitting in his rocking chair, saying "This house is all I need." I then said to the deformed man (about the remains in the mud), "Oh, he must of died." The deformed man began to seem very agitated, and said "Yes, something like that." I followed the deformed man inside the cabin where his temper suddenly started to rise, and I began to get frightened. His whole body began to shake, and he dropped his stick that he used as a cane shouting, "ditch the stick!" He jumped into a hole in the floor that seemed to be the collapsed roof of an abandoned mine. I followed him.

Once he got into the mine tunnel, he startled something I can only describe as a mole-man. The little mole-man was rather cute, it looked like it was made of play-doh and wore a blue winter coat with a knitted hat with fuzzy balls on top of it. Once the mole-man saw the deformed man, it's eyes and mouth all made an "O" in terror. The deform man screamed at the mole-man and said, "I charge you with the crime of smuggling sticks!" The deformed man took out an axe and began flailing it at the mole-man. The mole-man was soon chopped to pieces and dead.

What an unusual dream, I even drew a picture of the frightened mole-man in one of my diaries. I wish I could transport back to seven and a half years ago. I wish anything to be happier than I am now, maybe tomorrow I will find some hope again.

Thank you for reading,

Marc