TREVOR

Years ago, I think I told you this, but two guys. ‘Men.’ You know, got me where they wanted me. I think the one guy had an aquarium in his bedroom, even though his bedroom was carpeted? Choices, I guess. And I wasn’t exactly as loose as they’d hoped I’d be according to the package details of whatever they bought off their guy for me to feed, and so, fed me a bit of crystal, got me loose as I tried to figure out where I was, and. They didn’t even wait until I was dressed to kick me out of the house. Got all sorts of things from them, a couple of them permanent. The kinda permanent you can get when they rip you loose. Guess it’s fine, these days, but. Imagine if it had happened in the 70s. 80s. You know? I do. Anyway. Weeks later, began having this dream. Of this – entity. Long and sinewy, made of static, human clay and aluminum as if the Dark had molded it itself. Egg-shaped head with sorta indents where the eyes ought to be and endless arms and endless fingers. Looming outside my window and just looking in. Looking in for eternity as I looked at it for eternity until the shadow static sifted and in the corner of my room the growing dark turned into It. And a corner closer to me metastasized of that same Memory, Grimace, and my marrow turned to boiling ice, paralyzing. As I drew my blanket closer to my eyes, I’m unable to look away, until it emerged from the closest corner of my mind and stood at the foot of my bed, just standing, staring still, blanket now over my eyes as I see the shadow of this Shadow now slowly, surely, looming, leaning over me, its endless legs firmly in place, just it’s endless torso tilted over 90 degrees right over me and I feel as though I have no choice but to see and so I lower, and there it is just – inches from my face, God, and – I try – to scream, God I try as hard as I can but nothing’s coming out and it’s just looking at me, not even mocking, not even curious, I don’t know what it wants but somehow I know I need to know what IT is, what it was, forever until morning ultimately came after all of its endlessness. For months, every night It would return to me and I would scream in silence, cry without tears, unable to make a single movement, unable to make a single sound, produce a single droplet of moisture. Until one night of its endlessness, I decided I wouldn’t scream. I would not try to wake up, I would not try to hide or shy away from its non-faced face, and it lingered over me in my safest space and I simply looked back at it. Endlessly I looked, and began to understand, as the scar of my heart began to break open once again and embraced all that leaned on top of me. And I looked through the non-eyes of a most singular, isolated, isolation. I had to understand that I was alone. At least just once, at least, just with – everything that came out of that room with the aquarium. How this was to be my Alone. How we all got it, but all got it differently which practically means, even in a collective, you know, it’s still just Us, with It. And then I never had the dream again. It never returned. I think maybe because I allowed it to come live inside. Better that, maybe, than the alternative. I never wanted to see that face again, outside of that dream. So I had to hold. I had to accept It.