Because last night, I had the weirdest fucking dream in my entire life.
It's completely different from any other dream I've had, mainly because I can vividly recollect every event and every detail even now, two hours after I've woken up. In it, I stand before an obelisk. Its white, broad surface expands straight to the horizon. I can't turn on my heels, or rotate any part of my body around to see what's behind me. My feet are rooted to the soil, which is ashy and barren; life is nonexistent here, the only memento to natural forces being that giant stone wall rising up, casting the longest shadow across the world. I know this, intrinsically; it is vital to making the dream work. And I don't know why it is.
But the obelisk calls, it croons, it sings a song so beautiful, so fantastic, a siren chained to the rocks; and I am Odysseus, for I can hear their call but cannot move forward. I strain, I struggle, I futilely grasp at air, reaching and reaching and reaching towards the majestic, radiant ivory structure, so eager to embrace whatever delights it will inevitably bring to me.
Then, the moment before I can feel my fingers scrape the tip of the edifice, I wake up.
And I don't know what to do. Inevitably this...nightmare isn't good for my health; I recognize those signs already. But I don't feel it's related to the Big S man chasing me, either. Most other dreams about him actually involve our friendly neighborhood gawky stalker in the dream, or some sort of symbolism evoking an image of him - you know, the Operator majigger, lots of forests, darkness or fog, maybe a visit by one of his butt buddy minions. But this didn't have any of those characteristics - indeed, it seemed the complete antithesis of what the Black King is. Plainly obvious to cunningly hidden; naturally enticing to inhumanly disturbing.
Clearly, something's taken interest in me. But why?
Teetering dangerously close to the abyss,