Pinkie Pie's Nightmare Log

I was dreaming.

I'd be more comfortable with that if my dreams were forgettable, or if they were fully lucid and controllable. Instead, they were partially lucid, like life. I had control over myself to the extent someone might have over one's self. Other than that?

Not much.

I was aware of things when dreaming. When dreaming, from the very beginning, I knew things. Not surprising, due to the dreams being a reflection of my own subconscious. In this case, I was aware that I was trapped.

The pure white floor beneath me was covered in a thin layer of greyed dust. The walls were similar, and the ceiling wasn't important. It's not that it wasn't there—simply that it wasn't important enough to be acknowledged. My dream-self knew that, and I knew that as an extension of that fact. If it became important to the dream, I would know what the ceiling was like.

What was important was that the floor stretched out far in front of me, and not far behind me. That the two walls were close together, the path ended behind me, and continued in front of me. It was a hallway with an unimportant ceiling.

Why was I trapped? I searched my dream-self's knowledge. I was trapped because I was being hunted, and my hunters were ahead of me. I could not go back. My hunters were only ahead. I could only go ahead. That was simple enough.

I went forward. There wasn't anywhere else to go.

I became aware of a turn, to my left. It was the way which led to my hunters. I became aware of the fact that I had to confront them, and that fleeing them would be worse than confronting them.

I went down the stairs—going down was important—and then took a right after the left. The ceiling was close to my head. Its color was dark grey, and made of a single stone, large enough to cover the entire hallway.

I saw my hunters ahead, then. What they looked like was important, especially as I got close. There were six of them. Their color was light grey. They had four limbs, a neck, and a head, like me, but had no body. The edges of their limbs tore to provide material for the length of the limb as it stretched like putty. They had no obligation to walk on all four limbs at a time, and stuck to the walls and ceiling, also like putty. Their faces were flat. They had two black gouges in the center of their face, reminiscent of nostrils. I observed the lead one, and in my peripheral vision, each one appeared identical to the lead one.

They had a faces that were the same size as mine, but no eyes.

They were hunting me because they were afraid of me.

They were fast. However, they did not move very much when I looked at them. They were afraid of my eyes.

They moved backwards as I approached them, putty-arms dragging themselves back as I stepped forward. My eyes began drying as I held them open as long as possible.

I became aware that their fear of my eyes was the only thing keeping me alive.

I looked past them, and saw a door. Its light was vaguely discernible beyond the grey figures.

The lead one put its face in the way, blocking the door from my vision. I stepped forward. It leaned back. I walked forward confidently, and I became aware of my heart shaking in my chest, as well as my hooves quaking with each step.

The thing stopped leaning backwards though. It was less than an inch from my face, and I became aware that it had learned to overcome its fear. I was vaguely proud of it. As I began to blink, the crack which spread along the bottom of its face, terminating on either side... that could only have been called a smile. When I opened my eyes from that blink, I was in my room.

My lower-right leg protruded from my sheets, as did both my upper legs. They were too cold. The rest of me was much too hot.

After shutting my window, I spent the rest of the night organizing the scraps of broken balloons.