The most brutal dream I’ve had in a while. This is more violent than my dreams have ever gotten, because even though I’ve fought zombies, skeletal humanoids, and even became a panther made of red liquid that swallows people whole–I’ve never experienced anything like this.
Two scenes.
The first, I’m in the woods. I’m sitting around a pile of luggage, I think. There’s a Casio keyboard next to me on a pile of bags. I see a wolf run by. It’s a beautiful Gray Wolf, and I don’t find it threatening. It stops to look at me really quick and then continues through the woods. Cool. When I turn back to look at all my luggage, there’s another wolf behind me.
This one is no normal wolf. This one is a beast–glowing eyes, a snout twice as long as the last wolf I saw, mouth full of sharp, gnarled teeth. This one is growling at me. It approaches. I don’t have time to find a suitable defense, and the thing is just too damn big for me to take on hand to hand. If it gets me in those jaws, I’m done for.
I submit. I put my head down and lean over. It sniffs me. It nudges me. I’m scared as fuck. If it decides it doesn’t like me RIGHT NOW, I’m a goner. I drop to the ground. It nuzzles me two more times, growls, and goes away. Thank god.
Now I’m in a house. Never seen it before. It’s made up of three
floors. The first is a well decorated house, the top two are unfinished, all frame and plywood floors. Basically, the top two floors look like a big attic. A few people are here. Don’t know who. I’m on the first floor, and I hear something click-clacking above me on the next floor. I run up the stairs to see what it is.
When I get upstairs, I see it’s a Gray Wolf. Unthreatening. Submissive. He runs away. We obviously don’t want a wolf running about in the house, so I chase after it. I go to the other side of the house and find another staircase. The layout is bigger than I thought–there are two sets of stairs to each floor, which is going to make it hard to get this wolf down to the first floor. He’s on the third now, and I hear his paws clicking on the floor above me once again.
I climb to the third floor. I chase him around a bit until he goes back to the second floor. When he does, I call someone up to stand at the top of the other stair to make sure he doesn’t go back up to the third floor. He does. I chase the wolf through a passage and then carefully around an unfinished part of the floorboards.
He runs down the stairs. He’s on the first floor now. “Got him!” I yell back downstairs. I sigh. Then I hear a growl–a LOUD growl, behind me.
Not one, but TWO of the super-wolves behind me. Both snarling and showing their teeth. They aren’t curious this time–they make that clear by the way they approach. I jump the gap in the floorboards, and they go around it, following closely behind me.
I know I need something to fight these things, or I’m a dead man. With two of them on my back, blunt objects aren’t going to work. I need something sharp. Something fatal. Striking blows won’t help because I doubt if I can knock one of these beasts out.
I scramble around the 2nd floor, looking for something–anything to fight these things with. My salvation comes in a splintered 2×2, which I know will snap if I don’t drive it right. It’ll have to work for now. It’s only going to be good enough for one of the two, since I’ll have to leave the first disabled to even start on the second.
Just one wolf now. I seem to have lost the other while I was running. I make my stand, thinking I might not get another one-on-one chance. If I keep running, I might get flanked by the other wolf.
EVIL growl. It’s working on me, too. I’m not bold or sure of my victory here. I’m less sure of my weapon. He inches forward, lets out a bark and shows his teeth. Where do I strike? Mouth? Throat? Chest? I have a feeling that he could blast my weapon apart with his jaw, so the mouth is a no-go. If he parries when I try for the throat, I’m sunk. I have to wait for him and have faith in my aim.
He pounces. I feel his breath right before he lets out a painful yelp. Motherfucker jumped right into my makeshift spear. I drive it deeper–deeper. It’s nearly all the way in. His eyes shudder and he whines. His weight bears down on me, but he slinks back, topples over. He’s a goner. The length of the splinter is driven almost all the way into him, enough to reach through his chest and all the way into the criss-crossing of vital organs beneath. I can’t get my spear back, because there’s not enough to pull out.
Breathing slowly now. I’m calm again.
That is, until the other superwolf turns the corner and charges me. It fucks up though, because it puts its paws on some of the unfinished spots in the floor. It goes through part way. I scramble and find another peice of wood. This one’s thicker, but it has no pointed end. I have to use blunt force.
The wolf tries to back himself out of the holes he’s stepped into, and I have time for a few blows on the head. One. Two. Three. Four-Five-Six-Seven. Whining now, but he pulls himself out. He’s standing, but he’s no longer 100%. He’s growling, but his head is down. I dive onto the floor, searching for something–ANYTHING with a pointed end. I find another peice of 2×2, but it’s much shorter than the last. If I try to go through the chest, it won’t be fatal this time. I grab it anyway, and I go on the offensive. The wolf is prepared, though. He rears his massive head as I’m about to strike. I’m knocked off balance. The wolf dives on top of me. I’m grabbing the side of its upper snout and trying to twist it away. He is STRONG, and he manages to close his jaw once, going down on my fingers. It hurts bad, but I can’t let go now. He won’t be at all forgiving if I do.
I bellow a scream. It’s like a war cry–it’s like something I’ve never felt before. It’s like some force has come over me and taken my body’s will into itself. I forcefully turn the wolf’s massive head with my bloodied, mangled hand still clamped around it’s upper jaw, and with my other hand, I stab the side of the throat. I pull the stick out. I stab again. Over and over again, until the wolf is spouting blood.
I’m screaming now, stabbing as I let out the full power of whatever force it is that’s helped me turn from scared boy into raging man. The wolf releases my fingers, and when my injured hand is free, I go under its throat and start swinging at it while my other hand still grasps the wooden spear sticking out of the side of its neck. The wolf is coughing blood now, and I keep striking at the windpipe under the jaw. It tries to back down, but I’m not satisfied. I pick up the blunt stick again and begin beating the wolf against it’s snout. He’s unsuccessfully trying to hide his head now, but I keep swinging. When he tries to bury it between his front legs, I go for those instead. I hear a sickening CRACK and one of his legs gives out. He gives a final, muffled bloody yelp due to his devastated throat. He’s done.
He’s laying down now, with his jaw to the ground. Cough-whimpers coming from him. His eyes aren’t glowing anymore, and he looks up at me as he would an Alpha that just put him in his place. Such different eyes than the beast that attacked me. He’s remorseful.
“It was you or me, old boy,” I say to him, stroking his head with my mangled left hand. Now I wish I hadn’t gone so far. I wish I had thought of a way to save myself without hurting him so badly. “I’m sorry, but you started this game, and I wasn’t going to play dead again. Go to sleep now.”
His eyes flutter and close. I start crying as I wander downstairs.