Yea, yea. I saw the movie, too. No, it didn’t inspire me. I’ve had raven imagery in my dreams and nightmares all my life.
You think I’m that young? Ha! No. Careful, your hubris is showing. I often look 15ish over here. Even when covered in feathers from head to toe.
Still you insist I am in your dream, eh? Fucking tourists, I swear. How was I allowed to keep my sanity when I first started blundering around here? Oh wait. I wasn’t! Ha! No, dear, this isn’t your dream nor is it mine. You’re not in Kansas anymore, nor the Atlantic Coast. Watch your step.
How did I know where you’re from? You have an accent. Your wording and inflection places you along the coast, north of DC, but south of Maine. Judging by the appearance your subconscious persists in maintaining, you’re an early-20s, white male. College student, trying to ignore the Freshman 15 you’ve packed on. Had everything given to you in life and have no self-preservation instincts. You can’t possibly conceive of a world that is not only indifferent to you, but can turn against you and hunt you down as prey.
Oh, I’m so scared! Pissant. This isn’t the first time reality has confronted you in your dreams, I take it. I see you. I see you clearly. You are so mundane and disconnected it hurts to look at you. You are not locked in your head. You’re wandering. You’re fair game and a nice slice of prey.
You’re also as clueless as a blank sheet of paper. You see me, ashen face, bloodied hands, humanoid body but fully fledged. You see me clearly, and yet ignore the instinctual alarms ringing in your head?
Oh for fuck’s sake! This is not your dream! The worlds do not revolve around you! Yes, plural.
I have no clue why you’re here. I didn’t call you here and other than this conversation there are no threads between us. And once this conversation is over even that thread will be cut.
I have no food. That table? What table? That wasn’t here before. Oh. Great. You wanted attention? You got attention. That’s a trap. The naked women aren’t human.
Yes, I see them. A helluva lot clearer than you can! Ignore the bouncing boobies! Can’t you see their backs are hollow? Their backs! Not… ~sigh~
Hey, Einstein! At least consider how a table with ALL of your favorite foods is suddenly in the wilderness? No! The offers of food and sex is a trap!
I am not the representation of your mother. And not a harpy, either. To be honest, I’m surprised you know what a harpy is.
I’m not going to do jacque shitte. I’m going to put my head back down and resume my lazy abiding with Those You Can’t See. They are laughing at you something fierce. So if you really think this place exists to fill your desire for food and fucking, go right ahead. Who am I to stop you?
He’s going to piss them off so fast, they won’t let him enjoy the illusion before eating him, I bet.
Yup.
She snatched his dick off and slapped him in the face with it? Ha ha ha!
Wow. I’m so curious what he said now. For them to rip his head off and place it on the table so he can see how they are abusing his body. Twenty years from now, his therapist will thank them.
Better go destroy the skull or he’ll return here. Would be mean to the wood women to allow that. They were really pissed at him.
And now you know what prompted that letter!