Pinkie Pie's Nightmare Log

by Archmage Ludicrous

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Pinkie Pie, Random, Slice of Life
Length: 2551

Pinkie Pie has a journal she keeps, where she writes down every dream she has. She doesn't have many dreams that aren't nightmares, though.

Pinkie Pie has a journal she keeps, where she writes down every dream she has. She doesn't have many dreams that aren't nightmares, though.

Published 2014-08-03 22:40:03 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-03 14:13:29 UTC

No Eyes

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.

The Morning

Fluttershy checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

Mrs. Cake checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

Twilight Sparkle checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

Rarity checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

Rainbow Dash checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

Pinkie Pie checked in on me in the morning, after I woke up. She asked if I was alright. She asked if I had gotten enough sleep last night.

I said, "Yes! Of course, silly!"

When I woke up, Princess Luna stopped by. She told me that she knew I hadn't gotten enough sleep.

I told her that any sleep was too much already. Luna really is silly, sometimes. With all she knows about sleep, you'd think she'd realize that.

I should have known I was dreaming, before I saw myself. Why would I have woken up in the morning?

Confrontation

Dear Nightmare Log,

I know this isn't something that happened in a dream, but it seemed relevant enough to write down. At least, I think it was something that wasn't a dream. I still need to write it down. It might have been a dream.

...It was probably a dream.

I need to get a better grip on reality, and you help me do that.

I was busy putting together some balloons last night, when I heard a tap-tap-tap coming from my balcony door. I righted myself quickly, peering out the door-window. Rainbow Dash was there, waiting outside the window. I opened the door for her, and she nodded to some pony below the balcony. Then, with a bang, Twilight Sparkle was there. I've always been jealous of her natural talent regarding teleportation. It's always been so hard for me, but she does it super-easy!

Anyways, I was super-duper happy that my two friends were here to visit me, but they both looked tired and sullen. I smiled and bounced, and told them exactly how super-duper happy I was, and then I told them that they looked all saddie-faced, and then I told them "isn't there anything I can do to make it better?"

I don't know if I should have said that. At least I didn't Pinkie Promise.

My friends shared a glance.

"Do you know what time it is, Pinkie?" Twilight began.

"It's nearly four, silly!" I laughed. How could Twilight Sparkle, of all ponies, forget the time? It was really silly of her to do that. I appreciated the irony immensely before realizing that the question might have been rhetorical. As I mulled it over, Rainbow Dash spoke.

"Pinkie, we're really worried about you. Every pony knows: you hardly ever sleep!" Rainbow Dash yawned, but her eyes never lost her conviction.

I frowned. Why was that a reason to be worried? Sleep wasn't a good thing. It was silence. It was unconsciousness. It was the closest that any pony could come to practicing for death. Nightmares rode the backs of the dream, and long rests let thoughts best not thought rise to the surface. I smiled, for their sake.

"Don't be silly, Dashie! And you too, Twilight! I'm just fine!"

Twilight shook her head. "Pinkie, how long has it been since you last slept?"

Now that was a funny question! I counted back in my head, tapping on my hooves to keep the place of the numbers.

"About three days!"

Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle shared a look of concern. I didn't want that! No pony wants their friends to be sad, or concerned. I need something to say, something to make it better.

"It was a whole four hours, though! I slept lots!"

Twilight grimaced. Ooh, I shouldn't have said that! I really shouldn't have, because that made it worse!

"Pinkie... that isn't healthy. You need your sleep." Twilight's voice was gentle, and insisting. I knew she was going to make me do something!

"Nu-uh!" I quickly retorted. "Sleep is awful! I don't get to do anything while I'm asleep, nothing at all!"

Rainbow Dash just kept frowning. She looked sad. Rainbow Dash never looks sad! I know Dashie! She's strong, and she's confident, and she never looks sad... or afraid... or concerned...

I was about to say something to her, but her mouth opened first.

"Pinkie... I'm going to stay with you all night, until you sleep." This resolution was solemn, devoid of the usual cracking of Rainbow's voice. The grimness of the situation was only enhanced by the dark circles underneath Rainbow's eyes. "If you're going to spend the nights sleepless, you deserve more than to spend them alone."

Twilight nodded. "Pinkie, we really do care about you. We can't have you suffer like this."

I wasn't suffering! It was so much better this way! When I close my eyes, I see things that shouldn't be seen. Bad things! It's better for every pony if I don't sleep!

"I've talked with our other friends. We're going to take turns staying up with you. We can't all stay up every night, but together, we'll have four days to recuperate after each stay. We'll see you through this."

"I'm fine, silly!" I protested. "Really!"

But they wouldn't have it.

And Rainbow Dash looked so sad throughout the whole thing! She looked tired, she looked so worried... Rainbow Dash doesn't do those things. So maybe that was a dream. Rainbow Dash is still here, but she could have just got here. She's looking over my project, poring over the details. Maybe she came in just a bit ago. Maybe the whole part with Twilight, was just a little daydream. More like a night-dream, actually! Wowie, that's silly!

Maybe the Rainbow Dash I see here is a dream, too, even. Maybe I'm still dreaming. That's why I like you, Nightmare Log. Nightmare Journal. Dream Diary. I can write in you, and when I read you, it tells me that I wasn't dreaming. It isn't important whether or not I was dreaming about what I'm writing about, here. What matters is that while I was writing, I wasn't dreaming. It confirms my existence. I mean, I suppose I could just have a really good memory, and I re-imagine the dream journal every time I open it, and it's all a dream... but I don't think so. I don't think I'm that smart.

Rainbow Dash is coming over to me now. She looks over my shoulder, to see what I'm writing. I don't mind, she's—

Prologue

I don't think often. In fact, I don't like to think. That's one of the reasons I hate to sleep. When you lay down to sleep, you have nothing to do but to let every single thought you've ever held bubble up to the surface. You have no way to prevent that, except stare at a blank wall until sleep overtakes you. And if you're lucky, then that's all.

I didn't sleep often. I "lived" in a room I rented from Mister Carrot Cake and Missus Cup Cake. The room was a small, ordinary room with a bed, a nightstand, and a closet. The closet held a couple dresses, and a few of my more special items. The nightstand was usually clean. The floor was usually dirty—scraps of balloons that I'm piecing back together were endemic to my most recent hobby. I usually stayed up doing that, instead of sleeping. I really don't like sleep, and I never really have.

Every time I had to sleep was the same. Someone I knew—usually somepony, but there were a few exceptions—asked how long I had been without sleep. I, of course, was completely honest. They told me that I needed to sleep. I of course, would agree. If they had noticed, then it had been too long. I'd go through the rest of the day as usual. I'd stay up until midnight, usually. Then, I'd wrap myself in blankets, gaze at the blank wall, and go to sleep. I did have a wall covered with pictures, covered in memories, for when I was awake. The blank wall had less to think about, though.

I'd usually wake up some time around two in the morning, write down what happened in my dream diary, and then get back to work on my project. Sometimes I'd be lucky, and wake around six, or sometimes even eight, but usually it was around two. And usually, I had to write in my diary.

Although, diaries contain some internal monologue. So I guess it was more of a journal, or a log.

And dream diaries were about dreams. So I guess mine was a Nightmare Log.

Take Two

I got out of bed early, like usual. Three, today. Three o' clock in the morning, three hours of sleep. That was good! An hour more than usual, and without trouble.

I stepped over my balloons—I didn't feel like working on them right now. Instead, I went outside, and checked the general state of things. My stashes were all where they should be. My two parties for the day, ready like the should be. I went back to the bakery, and baked some pretzel—a style of Allermane bread. It was very good, so I baked some more to share with my friends! They all really liked it. Twilight looked a bit concerned when I saw her, but she hid it well. Maybe I'll ask her about that tomorrow, if she still looks concerned.

No! No, I won't ask her... She didn't exist.

I went home after a good day of work. I stitched together some more balloons, and decided to try and get some more sleep, early. I woke up early, around three in the morning, again. I checked all my things again, and checked all my party preparations. They were all in perfect condition. Perfect condition. I knew I had used some yesterday, though...

It wasn't until I checked my balloons and saw that they were the same as the day before yesterday that I realized. I realized that yesterday was a dream. That yesterday was a lie. I need to do it over again, I guess...

Dear Nightmare Log, this one was the worst one yet.