12th July, 2001
My dreams have been troubled of late. The past, the present, and a myriad of possible futures have intersected within them, not all at angles the mind can accept. I have elected to keep a journal of these dreams, as I feel that they are a…a warning of dire things. Prophetic if you will. My dream last night was very clear. It was of that singular night in a New Jersey warehouse ten years ago, that last night of Marcus and mine investigation into the Silver Hand cult. I remember it well, but what my dream showed was very different.
It was the book. I remember we destroyed it after one look inside, we simply destroyed it. As it was, that one look may have been too many for our minds to handle. But in the dream we kept it, kept it and read it. Marcus (I’m sure he died that night. Didn’t he? I also remember him dying later, and earlier. I can’t tell which reality is the one I experienced anymore. Perhaps I experienced all of them…perhaps my other forms are catching up with this one.) Said he needed the knowledge within it. Certainly it would have been of use in the days to come. But, when he read it, he spoke aloud, as he should have known not to do. His words were terrifying. I can barely remember them…I think they were something innocuous such as “they are coming, and the gate is opened”. Nothing terrifying in itself, but if only you could have heard his blank, dead voice, and seen the light shining from his eyes. I say light, yet light is not the word. It was darkness. Yet, not darkness as w perceive it, but a cold alien darkness, not just the opposite of light, but the consumer, destroyer and corrupter of it. That darkness was so cold, I’m sure it burned my very soul. Then, all at once, his eyes dimmed, the light stopped shining forth, and his eyes were the blank of the frozen void…he became again the blank eyed man that has always stalked my dreams.
I suppose I should tell of the blank-eyed man, so that this makes sense to those who find it. Perhaps it is better that none find it. If the events begin to come to pass, I shall destroy this book, then myself, rather than have its taint spread to others, innocents. But, enough, lest I forget, I shall relate of the blank-eyed man to you.
I do not know when he first entered my dreaming. But it could not be long after the night I dreamt of. I think I saw a picture of him in the book that we burned. He seems to have featured in every dream I have had since then, but not in a direct way. He is always there…lurking in shadows, hiding in the crowds, observing, but not interfering. But last night was the first time he spoke; albeit through Marcus’ body. The man changes from dream to dream…but usually he is a tall, gaunt, and dark. And is eyes are as I have described. Blank. Utterly, utterly blank. His voice is terrible, but it is his eyes that snatch at my soul.
13th July, 2001
I dreamed of that night again, only this time, it was not Marcus who read, but I. I know perfectly the words I read, though I was wise enough not to speak it aloud, the Elder Ones be praised. “Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate.” The words of the accursed Necronomicon, which I had the misfortune to peruse at Miskatonic University, alongside Marcus one winters afternoon. If the book was on that being, then it begins to make sense. The dreams of different realities come from a glimpse of a being whose very essence is time. Is the blank-eyed man his servitor? Nyarlathotep forbid!
I see a course of action before me, though it is one that I am loathe to pursue. I have little choice. If the blank-eyed one is a creature of Yog-Sothoth, then it can be cast back to its native dimension and out of my dreams. But to do this I need that accursed book which allowed me to recognize it. I will go, tomorrow, to Arkham, and obtain the book from Miskatonic library. I only can hope I am not too late.
July 14th, 2001
No dreams last night.
The fools of the college, however, will not allow me to view the book. I am unsure as how to proceed without the knowledge therein, so I believe that my one recourse is to break in to the library vault and obtain either the book or a copy of the relevant sections. I shall try tonight.
July 15th, 2001
Success!
I have obtained the book, and the knowledge within…is terrible…I cannot understand much of it, for it is an ancient Latin, and I know little of that language. However, I should be able to translate it within few days, as I know what I am looking for. I should be encouraged by these facts, yet…I feel ill at ease…as if things are not quite as they should be, but I cannot see how. I think I need to sleep…I will take some medication against the dreams, and go.
July 17th, 2001
Unable to write yesterday, as I was exhausted from the dreams, despite the medication.
Though I have been a dreamer for many long years, I have never known dreams so singularly vast in the cosmic gulfs of terror unveiled before my mind. I remember little in detail, but….it was as if my mind walked across the gulfs of interminable time/space to other spheres, where the angles are strange. I remember, in a particularly distant sphere (though the angles for a sphere were wrong, in the most profoundly disturbing and troubling way) I spoke with a being, which seemed an impossible blur of substance and immaterial vapours, and its voice was like a cold wind. I saw worlds, whole worlds, collapse, rot and die. I saw my father, my mother, ten years dead, I saw myself, a thousand years dead, and yet unborn. I saw time and space and…existence…sanity…reality? Bend its self in contortionist shapes before my mind. I saw….too much.
But one dream is clear in my mind. The blank eyed man (who seemed to have lead me from one dream to the other) read from the book…the same book that Marcus had read from…that I had read from. He read aloud words that I had never heard, I would swear. Yet I knew them. I cannot remember hearing them with the ears I have, yet…I knew them…and I had heard them. Time/Dimensions buckled and warped as he spoke. “Y’gai ngrw’lathn angrwi meccalayrf” he spoke, or that is as close as I can remember it. I shudder to recall it.
July 18th, 2001
I now know where the words of the blank eyed man come from. They are the very spell (or a part of it, repeated over and over again, in a daemoniacal cadence of pure madness) that will banish him. I do not think I can bring myself to pronounce those blighted syllables, yet, I may have no choice. I am sure I will go mad as I do. Perhaps I am already?
I dreamed last night. I spoke with the blank one. His voice was terrible…like thunder, and ice, and fire and the void beyond time/space, wherein the blind idiot God writhes and boils at the throne of chaos. More terrible than my memories. More terrible than the future. More terrible than terror itself, for He is terror incarnate. We did not speak for long, but I remember one phrase amongst all the others that are blurred in my mind. “When all of us are one, then begins the end. Y’gai ngrw’lathn angrwi meccalayrf”. I now know its meaning. Reason is dead.”
July 19th, 2001
Tonight is the night of the spell. Now we will see if the madness I have risked is worth it.
I dreamt of Marcus again last night. He was the blank-eyed one for a time, then he changed to himself and back again. The two seemed to be waging a battle of wills for the possession of the body. I cannot think why the blank one wishes the body and of Marcus, dead these last ten years. I do not want to think. I shall go to Marcus’ grave to do this spell. It seems only fitting. Something else troubles me. When I woke from this dream, I found myself holding the copy of the vile Necronomicon that I had liberated. Yet, I am sure that I locked it in my safe that afternoon when I had finished studying. And the safe HAD NOT BEEN OPENED since. Moreover, the page which I held it open at had a drawing on it. Of the blank eyed man, in a body with two faces. One face was almost incomprehensibly grotesque, but that did not terrify me as the other did. That other face, the face that plunged me into indescribable gulfs of cosmic horror and madness, and left me screaming and incoherent for what seemed like an age; was a face I know full well. For it was mine.
………………………………………………………………………………
…the spell…. Did not work….I think. I am writing this…at the end…my life….is nearly spent. I will try…try and…commit to words my memories of the event. Lets see…
When I pronounced the last syllables of the incanation, I felt an indescribable feeling. It was/…..as if…my soul was dragghed across the void into a place of..of terrible, chilling, all-consuming hunger. Across all destinies, all the threads of fate, my souls were drawn to that place, that black hole of energy. And there I met it…the blank eyed Marcus that had haunted my dreams. Its eyes were, not just were like, but were that tear in the heart of existence itself. And I felt my own anima drawn into it…and was unable to resist. So I went, I plunged down, and came to an endless grey sea of mirrored glass, and new…new this is where energy, where souls themselves come to…die…to end…to sleep an eternity and more. And I lowered myself into it. And them I realised…that Marcus, that the blank one were both here with me…the same entitiy, the same state. The three were one. It waged war on our very souls, and Marcus and I fought it. But we could not prevail. It absorbed us, and in the moment of its aborbtion, I knew the truth. When Marcus died, he had left…a portion of himself in me. Enough so his soul would not form a conduit for that THING into our world. And now it had its path.
To get back here…to leave this warning….i had to steal the sleeping souls of a thousand dead. I have a thousand souls, yet none my own, not all human. The blank one is loose… and I…can….write….no…more…..
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