#the nightmares have began
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havarstpapyrus · 8 months ago
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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters 4, 5, and 6 are all done and uploaded as well as new cuts to show who's poc your reading. Things have started to get dark and you get first hand off what Corruption does
I did edit chapters 1, 2, and 3 to be the same way but those chapters have lil faces on them as well
Also this fic is strictly 18+ all minors are advised not to read this!
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kraviolis · 1 year ago
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*clings onto any and all characters who show both subtle or explicit signs of plurality from all of my various interests and hyperfixations consistently throughout my entire life* no no its all a coincidence im just fascinated with the concept i certainly dont relate to it haha
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mariocki · 4 months ago
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Messiah of Evil (Dead People, 1974)
"Hard to remember back on things... but I - I remember the red moonlight Daddy told me about, only once. Mama gave him a bad look when he talked about it. He was only a boy himself, then. He called it the blood moon. He said that was the night that he lost religion. He learned that men could do... could do horrible things... like animals."
#messiah of evil#blood tw#dead people#the second coming#and a dozen other titles on various reissues and rereleases#willard huyck#gloria katz#marianna hill#michael greer#joy bang#anitra ford#royal dano#elisha cook jr.#charles dierkop#bennie robinson#morgan fisher#walter hill#phillan bishop#american cinema#1974#shot in 71 but not widely released until 74‚ this seems to have slipped into relative obscurity until a gradual reappraisal began in the#last couple of years; rarely was a film more deserving of a second chance bc this is something close to masterpiece. a beautifully original#highly enigmatic nightmare of a film‚ a slow build of dread to an unexpectedly apocalyptic conclusion as one woman's search for her missing#artist father brings her into contact with an insular and terribly twisted community. the details of the plot are left a little sketchy in#the final product but i think that actually suits the vibe better; there's enough hints and suggestions that a viewer can begin to draw#their own conclusions without having the precise nature of the evil spoonfed to them (in fact i even think they could have eased back on#the exposition in the final act a little). some amazing setpieces here too‚ including the grocery store attack which is quite genuinely a#Moment of all time horror cinema. amazing discordant electronic score too‚ it just all fits together wonderfully#the most european feeling American horror film ever made fr fr#feels almost like it's referencing Rollin and later Romero and a dozen others except this came first baby. it's just that smart
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kaurwreck · 2 months ago
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It's actually really appropriate that bsd happened to me because I learned about the Sengoku period of Japan from Samurai Warriors. I was moé Oichi in the very first dream in which I exercised volitional control over the dream narrative and environment.
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#samurai warriors#ive always exercised complete volitional control over myself/my dream character#but i had chronic and constant and sometimes recurring nightmares and couldnt control anything else#so i remember very fondly the first time i figured out how to adjust the narrative and environment#i was oichi on a vicious battlefield and i curled up on the ground crying because it was too chaotic and violent and terrifying#there were no clear “sides” — so there wasnt anywhere to go for safety. someone noticed me and raised their battle axe to kill me.#and while cowering on the ground all i wanted was an invisibility cloak to hide under#and got one! so from there i willed a proper fucking sword and horse#then i willed oichi's husband and saved him like a damsel in distress#first nightmare i ever turned into an adventure#now i have so much control over my dreams that i can run simulations of major decisions and can collapse the entire environment if i want to#but my dreams characters (which are just less conscious me) get annoyed if i break the dream without engaging with whatever it's processing#so i try not to.#also sometimes it's an interesting or exciting story and i want to see where it's going#or it's laden with imagery i want to unpack#or i forget it's a dream until the dream characters break the fourth wall at the end to deliver me the takeaway I need to remember#but none of this happened suddenly. it was a slow process that began out of my desperation to no longer be victimized by my own nightmares#and oichi was the turning point.#and also got me very into the sengoku period of japan from ages 9-15.#that abruptly ended because of a marijuana leaf#but that's a separate story#anyway#it just struck me that everything i know about japanese history. came to me first as gaggles of bishie japanese historical figures.#sorry japan but thank you bishie nobunaga and bishie dazai
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lith-myathar · 7 months ago
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#i joke about it and all but like. i cannot emphasize enough what an impact it had on me to be uhhhhhb#micro-institutionalized in the way that i was for the first 14 years if my life#and i am honestly going to count the time i soent in ''elementary'' school bc it wasn't a normal school. it was a charter school#that began as a parent organized alternative and swiftly devolved into an authoritarian nightmare#a bunch of people who were simply not ready to educate children let alone ''problem'' children#of which there were MANY because that school got all the kids who had been turned out of public school for behavioral issues#there were hardline rules about literally everything. normal childhood behavior was pathologized and punished and as a kid#you had no way to understand WHY#and so many of your peers were having problems because ofc those ''problem'' kids were typically severely traumatized#or were actively being abused#so even if it wasn't happening TO you you were being exposed to it in a hundred little ways every day#so i was confused and miserable all the time AND was struggling academically bc i had undiagnosed adhd#(or possibly just trauma?? i honestly neither know nor care which came first at this point)#so my mom pulled me and my brother out. him at 11 and me at 6 and said ''i'll just do it myself'' and#raised us in a way that wasn't religious but resembled evangelical or lds stuff#i couldn't watch commercial tv or listen to popular music bc my parents didn't want me exposed to what they considered inappropriate#and while i still had extracurriculars i was always the odd one out bc i had no exposure to pop culture or normal socialization#for my age group#it resulted in me always feeling alone and like i didn't belong. and since most of my social life was my parents and their friends#that was the perfect soup for adultification#i was fine with adults. put me with my peers and i was a mess#it made the transition to high school incredibly difficult but i DID make it#but that was only 4 years still in an institution. everything began to unravel once i tried to move into anything resembling ''real life''#and then my dad's suicide which was a major trauma in early adulthood which only made my mom's grip on us tighten#i did get to START life until 26. not really. and it's just been a game of catch up for the last 5 years#and im so *angry* at the unfairness of it all. at the time and experience and milestones that were taken from me. at how i blamed myself#for it for so many years and the problems i developed because of it all. dissociation and substance abuse and suicidality#the fear that still has a death grip on me#the courage required to just exist#it's *exhausting*
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anthromimicry · 8 months ago
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#I'VE GROWN INTO A DEEPLY UNLOVABLE ADULT: playlist.#I know this is kind of a weird place to start with misao BUT I swear this song is relevant to her character jsjsj#During the 400 years she spent in Japan after she left home she had actually become acquainted with Japanese Pirates.#And she had joined them on their ' travels ' ( which basically just means raids / illegal exploits JSJSJ ).#But something unexpected happened during her time spent with them. There was one other woman on the ship and of course Misao wanted to try-#to connect with them as a result. And Misao was left being in complete wonder of her as she had never seen someone be so agile with a sword#before that point since the other woman in question ( her name was reika ) was known for being a BRILLIANT swordfighter. and due to her-#bunk being right above reika's they often found themselves have late night convo's with each other. And over time Misao felt this-#overwhelming feeling of warmth within her heart whenever she was around her as they soon began spending pretty much every single waking-#moment of their time together. And because Misao had never experience romantic love before this point she had thought she just held a deep-#admiration for Reika for a while. But then Reika volunteered to show Misao how to sword-fight and that's when she knew that she loved Reika#Because every single time she would physically correct Misao's stance with her hands or show her how to do a move more properly-#Misao felt this uncontrollable desire to kiss her. She just thought that Reika was so beautiful. And she wanted to have the spirit-#of a ' warrior ' just like her. So she reallyyy wanted for Reika to be her gf and after having a nightmare one night-#(because she is unfortunately plagued with them sometimes) and Reika expressed her concern for Misao by telling her that she could sleep-#in the same bed as hers Misao could've sworn that her heart stopped for a second and she was hesitant to at first but crawled in bed next-#to her anyhow in the end and after just laying there for a bit Reika turned to face her + just look into her eyes for a moment Misao asked-#if she could kiss her and Reika laughed and said something akin to ' oh if you only knew how long i've wanted for you to say that. -#of course you can ' and from that moment on Misao + Reika were a couple. And Misao was sooo in love with her that she wanted to find a way-#to make her immortal too. But decided not to when the topic was met with Pity by Reika whenever Misao finally revealed to her what she-#really is. Though the years that Misao spent with her were perhaps the happiest she's ever had. And she still loves Reika to this day.#She is also the reason why Misao wants to perfect her sword-fighting skills. Because she wants to make Reika proud of her.#... wherever she may be.#NO SLEEP OF THE INNOCENT. NOT FOR YOU: character study.
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kindafooey · 2 years ago
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Man. What they don't tell you about epileptic seizures is that witnessing one up close for the first time is a straight up horror movie experience
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e-6000 · 1 year ago
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Had my first real nightmare in years last night
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e-louise-bates · 1 year ago
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okay so this is not an ‘official’ metric by any scale but i am curious so i just bullshitted my own (explanation on levels under the poll)
level 1 - can’t tolerate horror at all, actively avoids it at all costs
level 2 - will watch a horror movie with friends/family if convinced but will definitely not enjoy it. screams at jumpscares and covers eyes at tense moments
level 3 - can occasionally consume horror media. very easily startles at jumpscares. usually feels anxious/paranoid afterward
level 4 - startles at jumpscares and generally feels uneasy after consuming horror media. avoids anything horror-related at night time
level 5 - jumpscares are less effective, but can still startle. feels anxious during tense moments. horror mostly causes unease only at night time
level 6 - has no problem consuming any kind of horror media alone at night. is largely unaffected by jumpscares. horror causes no feeling of fear or anxiety
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unreadpoppy · 2 months ago
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Honestly, the Raw Fade wasn't as bad the second time around. I think part of it is that, now I know what happens and I know what I have to do, so it's easier to go through the maps. And I also employed a new strategy to not get lost called: pick one path and just keep moving forward, and it worked every single time.
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ohara-n-brown · 1 year ago
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As a late diagnosed autist I will say one of the most damaging but transformative experiences I've ever had was being misdiagnosed with BPD.
Everyday my heart goes out to people with BPD.
The amount of stigma and silencing they face is astonishing and sickening.
I took DBT for years. Therapists use to turn me away because of my diagnosis.
I would be having full blown autistic meltdowns, crying for help literally - but because I was labeled as BPD ANY time I cried I was treated as manipulative and unstable.
As if the only reason I could be crying was if I was out to trick someone.
95% of the books out there with Borderline in the title are named shit like 'How to get away from a person with Borderline', 'How to stop walking on eggshells (with a person who has BPD)'
I was never allowed to feel true pain or panic or need.
That was 'attention seeking behavior', not me asking for help when a disability was literally inhibiting my ability to process emotions.
There were dozens of times where I had a full meltdown and was either threatened with institutionalization or told I was doing it for attention.
My failing relationships weren't due to a communication issue, or the inability to read social cues. No, because I was labeled borderline, my unstable relationships were my fault. Me beggong nuerotypicals to just be honest and blunt with what they meant was me pestering them for validation.
Borderline patients can't win.
And the funny thing is - I asked my therapist about autism. I told her I thought I was on the spectrum.
BPD is WILDLY misdiagnosed with those with autism and I had many clear signs.
Instead - she told me 'If you were autistic we wouldn't be able to have this conversation'. She made me go through a list of autistic traits made clearly for children, citing how I didn't fit each one.
And then she told me that me identifying with the autism community was the BPD making me search for identity to be accepted - and that I wasn't autistic, just desperate to fit in somewhere.
I didn't get diagnosed for another ten years. For ten years I avoided the autism community - feeling as if I were just a broken person who wanted to steal from people who 'really needed it'.
Because of my providers - I began to doubt my identity MORE, not less.
Ten years of thinking I was borderline and being emotionally neglected and demonized by a system meant to help me.
To this day, I still don't trust neurotypicals. Not fully.
I know I'm not borderline now - but my heart aches for them. Not for the usual stuff. But for the stigma. And the asshole doctors. And the dismissiveness and threatening and the idea of institutionalization hanging over their head.
I love Borderline people. I always will. I'm not Borderline but if you are I love you and I'm sorry.
You're not a bad person. You're not a therapists worst nightmare, you are a human with valid feelings and fears.
Borderline people I'm sorry.
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ayamohammed2024 · 2 months ago
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Hello
my name is Aya, I am 26 years old, currently living in the northern part of Gaza City, and I am a mother of two children. My oldest is my daughter, Sana'a, who is 5 years old, and my youngest is my son, Wasfi, who is 3.
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Since the morning of October 7th, 2023, our lives have been turned upside down. We have lived through the hardest days of our lives, facing displacement and homelessness. We have been forced to leave our home more than ten times since the war began. We would leave without knowing where to go.
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We sought refuge in schools and relatives' homes, hoping we could return home and that this nightmare would end. But our house was bombed, and our dreams were destroyed. We became homeless and displaced.
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Every day, we wake up to the sound of bombs and rockets. I lived in constant fear and terror with my children, especially when my family's house was bombed while we were taking shelter there.
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We are experiencing a real famine in Gaza. I’ve gone to bed with my children many nights without dinner because there is no food available. We have had to eat animal and bird feed due to the high cost of flour just to fill the hunger of my young children. Even after eating it, we all suffered from diarrhea and severe stomach pain. My children developed rashes on their bodies due to the spread of viruses and the accumulation of garbage. There is also a severe shortage of water, and even when we find it, it's not safe to drink.
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My children cry, asking for vegetables, fruits, and eggs, but we can’t afford them because we have no income. The gas shortage has forced us to use fire for everything—cooking and baking—using plastic and pipes because firewood is so hard to find.
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My children also developed jaundice, and I struggled a lot to get them better because there was no access to vegetables, fruits, or medicine. I even feared that my son might have developed polio because he already had leg problems before the war, and they worsened due to malnutrition.
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Winter is coming, and we have nothing for it. I need clothes and shoes for my children to keep them warm, but I can’t buy them because they are so expensive.
For this reason, I beg of you and hope that you can support me, even with the smallest contribution, so I can provide my children with the most basic necessities of life.
I was displaced with my children to my family's house, tears in my eyes. On the way, Salah Al-Din Street was bombed, and the Israeli occupation committed horrific massacres. By the grace of God, we survived for the first time. We lived in terror and fear. A few days later, my family's house was bombed, and we were pulled out from under the rubble, miraculously surviving for the second time.
When my husband heard the news that we had died, he came to bid us farewell, only to find us alive by God's grace. We returned with him, but as the situation worsened and the fire belts in our area increased, we started to flee again and again, not knowing where to go next.
I beg of you to share my story and help me continue to live.
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #230 )✅️
Vetted by butterfly nu #1133
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meownotgood · 16 days ago
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arcane season 2 spoilers
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"Can you feel anything?" 
Viktor's foreign body shudders against his will; your fingertips trace down his chest, tingling, sparking, akin to little specks of light burning into his second-skin. The sound of your muddled voice barely registers. His head tosses back with a slight thud, hair fanned out as a halo. He allows your knees to bracket his waist, and keeps his arms sprawled above him — despite the aching in his dead heart to just touch you. The pulsing of the arcane beneath his system is hardly under control yet. 
It would be a risk he's willing to take, a necessary step to learn, if it were anyone else besides you. 
And Viktor does feel — so much, in fact, but it isn't anything explainable. The festering in his core, threatening to come up through his throat. The whirring, the throbbing of every muscle, rich with glowing rivers of purple. Shining with a mixture of magic and energy and his own blood. 
He's only distantly aware of your hand when it reaches his stomach, examining the juncture between cool metal and unholy flesh. Gears and bolts mimic the outline of ribs. Your touches are curious, distinctly gentle. Picking up on old habits, and trying not to break him, still. Then, your palm reaches up; it boldly cradles his cheek, brushes his pallid skin. And this, he can sense. 
It's familiar, human. Excruciatingly soft when your thumb brushes the space on his cheek, just above his beauty mark. It puts an easy feeling back in his chest, something he almost began to believe he'd forgotten. As warm as a shimmering sun, as molten as liquid gold. 
Nothing else matters but this moment, but you, and him. There is no outcome, across each expansive universe and every edge of the arcane, where the two of you would not meet again like this. You were meant to. Born and reborn to. 
Your gaze finds his, soft eyes glancing down at him, your expression crossed between pain and relief. You eclipse all of his vision: light fuzzy at your edges, your face a hazy memory that he'd still see with his eyes closed. You're a reminder of what it means to be alive. 
Viktor doesn't envy you. You've told him of nightmares, before. Dreams you had before this, of your mind putting yourself through the tragedy of watching him die ages before you truly had to. It must be difficult to see him like this, despite your best attempts to hide any uncertainty. 
Your hand shakes. He can feel it trembling, unsteady on his cheek. And every molecule in Viktor's system explodes, laced with the yearning to remember — to let hazy lovesickness swell within his palms and his new figments. To pull you closer, in an effort to convince himself you won't be taken away. 
Every echo of you is innate. Your voice, your name, your fingerprints. Your presence has the Hexcore — or what's become of him, what has embodied the Hexcore — blissfully, endlessly silent. The way you look at him, soft and brutally innocent, puts a chasmic, vivid hole in his center. Gods, you still look at him the same, just as you did when the two of you were young and innocent. The rot in him tells him he isn't worthy of it. 
Viktor's eyes swirl like kaleidoscopes. Drops of crimson swirling in pure water. Your brows pinch, a sight he finds frustrating and pretty, as you silently examine him. Emotions curl in your lungs, tearing and hungry and knife-like; stricken with attachment, or perhaps blaming yourself, Viktor figures. 
Exhaustion runs heavy in your expression, reminding him of looking into a mirror. He knows this look. You haven't slept. Haven't given yourself any form of a break, it seems.
So, he takes a chance. 
Your hand brushes some stray, messy strands of hair from his forehead, just as Viktor guides his weak arm to reach for you. You don't tense, don't move. He can hear your breathing, thinks he can still feel his. There isn't an ounce of fear in the way you look at him. You have always looked at him like he holds the world in his hands. And now, perhaps he does. 
His hand finds your cheek, same as yours. Copying, following. Thin, delicate, purple-hued fingers trace the edge of your face clumsily, still learning how to touch. Still afraid the line between hurt and healing might be blurred, and you are the one person left that he can't let get caught in the crossfire. You lean into his palm, trusting, and let go of a breath that makes your shoulders shake with the weight of it. 
Viktor thinks of crying, despite the press and pull in his chest that convinces him he shouldn't be able to. He can feel you. It isn't like the few touches he's experienced so far, or the aching, anomalous strength he's been forced to get used to. It contradicts the very constructs of everything he thought made sense. 
Your skin is so soft, sickly familiar. Viktor holds your face shakily, afraid to move. He can feel your individual atoms. Innumerable sparks just beneath his touch, galaxies upon universes of stars in your name, that beg to be grasped, possessed, cured. He cradles you with all of the devotion of a prophet, with all of the tenderness of a past friend: an almost-destiny, a saved seat at the edge of something more. 
Would clumsily pulling you in, and pressing his lips to yours feel wrong, or tangible — like nothing, or like everything? 
"Vik?" 
Your tone, sweeter than honeysuckle, sweeter than anything he might deserve, brings his vision back into focus. He blinks. Gaze never tearing away from his, your fingertips drop to thread the hard edge of his collarbone. A silent plea, can you feel this? You find each curve of his bones and his body easily, the details already memorized. Viktor senses the ghost of you, your touch gentle, something like home. 
"I'm not sure," Viktor finally answers; and the scientist, Hexgate creator, still-ambitious part of himself is hardly satisfied with that answer. His voice is quiet, distant. As though he isn't there, despite the lingering, familiar tenderness to his tone. 
The fried synapses in his brain can't yet separate a caress from a threat, he just perceives the lingering energy. He believes you could be the one to teach him the difference. 
This time, you let your palm press flat to his chest. There's a hum that attempts to mimic a heartbeat, a lack of coolness or heat. The action presses your form closer to his, guides you to lean part of your weight on him to bring your faces far too close. Sharing in the same reflection. Allowing each breath to be measured, along with every hesitation. 
What should he start with? Should he embrace you, holding you tight and close like you're sacrificial? Should he grab your hand in his, press his palm to your skin to measure your heartbeat? Lace his smallest finger with yours, to make you a promise like he used to? 
He can't promise you peace, nor the life you deserve, but if you came for him now, was it not a swear to follow him anywhere? 
There are still so many things left to feel, and every red thread has always begun and ended with you. 
Can you feel anything? 
Viktor guides a hand over yours, keeps it to his chest selfishly; he meets your gaze, he hums, "Are you eager to find out?" 
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pukicho · 4 months ago
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What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?
Pukicho story time???
This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:
It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.
I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.
I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.
Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.
It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.
At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.
Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.
At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.
The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.
No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.
End!!
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heritageposts · 3 months ago
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I'm writing again to spotlight the GFM campaign of @nourfamily1989, a mother of five in Gaza.
If you've been following Nour's story, you probably already know that last month was very difficult for her and her family. It began with Nour being injured in a bombing, and ended with the family being displaced yet again, this time to an area even more crowded than the last so-called "safe zone."
Now her oldest son, Muhammad (13), has started bleeding from his ear, and Nour is worried he might lose his hearing if he can't get medical treatment soon.
In her post about Muhammad, she writes:
We faced endless suffering for 11 months. With the continued bombing day and night. We kept wondering when this nightmare will end????? Do you still hear our cries?? To those who have compassion. Don't abandon us.
Let's do whatever we can to make sure that Nour does not feel like she's being abandoned. If you can, please donate; if not, then help by sharing.
Donation link (GFM)
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For info about how Nour's fundraiser has been vetted and organized, see this post by @/killy.
The goal for Nour's campaign is now to reach the next milestone of $25,000. For every 5k we raise, we're one step closer to ensuring her entire family will be able to evacuate if the Rafah crossing should reopen in the near future.
Currently: $20,991 / $25,000
Total GFM goal: $90,000
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ahmed0khalil · 3 months ago
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Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful story.
My name is Ahmed Khalil, I am 6 years old. I was at the beginning of my education, trying to learn, participate, and play with other children. My family consists of 8 members, including my mother and father. My father has diabetes, my brother Fathi is blind, my other brother Abdullah has autism, and my brother Mohammed was injured in his leg by shrapnel from rockets.
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On October 7, 2023, the war began and has not stopped since. The airstrikes and Israeli shelling caused fear for me and my family. We could not endure the massive explosions that felt like recurring earthquakes and the red flames sweeping through the area. We were forced to flee to southern Gaza based on orders from the Israeli forces, leaving our beautiful apartments behind. We went to a UN refugee school in Deir al-Balah to escape the terror and death.
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We stumbled into a different life full of suffering from every side, living through the most painful hell of war. I developed malnutrition due to contaminated water, poor hygiene, and the spread of infectious diseases with no suitable medicine available.
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The situation is catastrophic and unbearable. “There is only death left in Gaza. Even death has become a privilege because it provides a sense of relief.” My older brother Mohammed and I begged our father to leave Gaza, but it was extremely difficult due to the high costs. My father lost all his property during the war, including his electronics repair center and apartment, which were completely destroyed, so he has nothing to help us travel out of Gaza. There is no safe place in the Gaza Strip.
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I pray every moment for the end of this war and a ceasefire. The ceasefire is not just a call; it is a desperate cry to end the helplessness and despair spreading to every corner after more than 11 months of war. We flee from death every day, only to wake up the next morning to try to escape it again. My heart is heavy, unable to bear the recurring nightmares, and the overwhelming flood of news about blood, displacement, loss, and despair pouring from Gaza.
Every minute feels like a struggle. No one should have to endure this injustice, segregation, and discrimination. The ongoing shelling in southern Gaza and the intense bombardment of residential buildings in Deir al-Balah make everyone feel unsafe, believing they might be the next to face tragedy. Communications are cut off. We are exhausted and cannot bear more tragedies and losses. We are currently living in a classroom of the UN center, which is crowded with people, including my relatives and cousins. My poor father sees our pale faces and weak bodies and stands helpless due to the lack of money and resources.
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I am still six years old, and I never thought I would witness such a brutal attack with complete disregard for human values. I am deprived of my basic rights, including health and education. I need to rebuild my life with my family abroad and receive better healthcare. Traveling to Egypt would cost at least $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child, which is an enormous amount given the harsh living conditions and the blockade that has lasted for 17 years.
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Therefore, I ask you to donate so that we can evacuate Gaza to safety. Please continue supporting our campaign by donating if you can and sharing it with your friends and family. Every contribution, no matter how small, helps us get closer to our next goal and brings us nearer to securing a safer future for my family.
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