She and her Valedictory Victim

The events herewithin did transpire in the thousandth Celestial year, as marked by the imprisonment of that wayward princess by our fearless leader.

14th of November

A vivid slumber has purposed me to put my dreams to paper. Devoid of resources and in want of quill and ink, I retreated to my study. There, forgotten among my tomes, lay this journal. I bear no recollection in purchasing such a book, but the discovery has inspired me. Rather than record a single night's sleep, why not analyze for the duration of the month? As a psychologist, I've always found the subject to retain a certain fascination. These pages, though they be yellowed and weathered, will host my memories. They must suffice; I cannot delay in this documentation. Already my visions have lost luster, and I would not see them squandered.

Captivating -- my dream in a word. Into a fog I was lured, a slave to my senses. I knew not what awaited me there in that myriad mist, and even now I am scarcely sure what I saw. Colors grew and shifted. Shapes both were and were not; the place was impossible. Amid the confusion, I felt a presence. Was I being watched? I waited endlessly, scanning my surroundings in search of something worth searching for, and although no one ever emerged, I believe my efforts were not in vain. My reasoning defies explanation, but I feel as if leaving would have been the wrong decision. As I stood cloaked in the gloom, I felt uncertainty absolve; I felt an air of trust.

Regretfully, my memory dims, as does the candlelight. As the sun has yet to rise, I return now to bed, optimistic about this endeavor. However, looking back on this entry, I am fearful for my storage of ink. I must remember to purchase more.

27th of November

Having neglected this journal for some days, I find my actions righted by my last slumber. A most peculiar occurrence has befallen me; I returned to my previous dreamscape. It was as if I had never left. There before me lay the familiar fog, complete with twisting shapes. It all stood unchanged, or at least, it seemed that way at first. While studying the scene around me, my suspicions were confirmed -- another being was present! The fog had revealed a set of eyes, like two luminescent emeralds; I was entranced. In a moment, the creature itself came into view. The fog had rolled back and vanished entirely, though I had scarcely noticed.

She was beautiful.

The eyes belonged to a unicorn. Her scarlet mane billowed gallantly, and I was rendered speechless. Never before have I witnessed a creature of this caliber -- I doubt any pony has. Her perfection was otherworldly. I am studied enough to know that close friends or family may on occasion work themselves into a dream, perhaps even in another form. This was not the case; I know no pony to rival her. Her very essence was unreal. Then, before I knew it, she was gone. I was devastated. I began to run after her, though in earnest I knew not which direction to head; she had not retreated, only vanished. Dwelling in my dismay, a whisper reached my ears, interrupting thought. She had spoken; there was no doubt. Her voice sounded as an angel's must, divine and perfect. However, the message proved more enigmatic. I was graced with only a single puzzling phrase: you must escape.

I have no answers, only questions, but I know I will see her again; I must. Is this some kind of warning?

9th of December

I cannot stand this! Sleep without incident, then no sleep at all; many nights I have passed bereft of dreams. For a week I awoke without recollection; my subconscious would not wander. The night before last proved more unfortunate yet; sleep itself avoided me! I know not the cause of this bout of insomnia; never have I been prone to such fits. My own body mocks me. When I have determined to study sleep, it eludes me! However, such suffering seems trivial now, here under the morning light. Last night I returned.

I realized I had not taken notice of the landscape before, after the fog had lifted. The ground seemed dull and lifeless; it had not seemed so grey before. My mind then turned to more important matters -- where was she? I felt a panic well within my chest. What if I was never to see her again? Such a prospect was unacceptable to me, nay, still is. I am not only concerned with what she is trying to communicate, but she has awakened a truth within me. I know now a gnawing emptiness, one of which I was previously unaware, and only in her presence do I feel relief. After what seemed an eternity, she appeared.

My heart was pounding. Her vivid eyes pierced me, and I felt a horrible mixture of hope and fear. Any comfort I might have derived from the encounter was lost to me; my mind was otherwise engaged, busy worrying in speculation. We held conversation this time; I know this, and yet, I can recall none of the exchange. Despite my lapse of memory, there is one fact I hold in certainty: she understands my emotions. Unfortunately, even this provides minimal relief; I am far too troubled. My mind spins with the remnants of our dissolved discussions, and one concern rises above the rest; one phrase echoes clearly in my head -- a repeated refrain: escape.

I know it seems silly, but I believe these dreams hold meaning. Something greater than myself must be at work here. That is not an entirely foolish notion, is it? This is all too peculiar to be nonsense; there must be meaning.

16th of December

Much has changed since I began this journal. As I pen these words onto the smooth white pages before me, I think back to before this experiment. I was then directionless, lost in the banality of routine; I refuse to return to that state. The comfort of my dreams cannot go unstated; I await each night with bated breath.

I have closed my practice so that I may devote more time to my studies, and I have repurposed my office as a bedchamber, seeing as my previous accommodations proved too inconvenient, being so far removed from my study. While finishing the alterations to my lodgings, I experienced quite an odd occurrence -- a tapping sounded on my chamber door. As no one ever came to visit, I was rather alarmed. Indeed, even my patients had always met with me at my office in town. I approached the antechamber with trepidation, and opened the door to behold a sullen-looking stallion; black rings circled his eyes, marking his face with an expression of weariness. He appeared to me familiar, but if we had indeed met before, we were not well acquainted. He informed me that I was missed in town, and that the townsfolk were worried by my absence. While it is true that I have neglected to leave my dwelling this past week, I don't see what business it is of anyone save myself. Aside from patients seeking diagnosis, they had scarcely deigned to bother with me before, yet now they deemed it appropriate to question my actions? It was nonsense. I shared with him my opinion on the matter, and requested his departure. He held silent a moment, his eyes locked to mine. His countenance seemed to grow darker, then he spoke. He maintained that I might yet find comfort in the care of friends, but I had heard enough. He had ceased making sense, and the conversation did not interest me. I chose to signal its end by slamming the door shut.

The encounter has left me in poor spirits. I had meant to write of dreams and of her, that alluring unicorn, but the pallid light of evening dwindles. Tomorrow I will continue this chronicle, for focus has abandoned me presently. I am eager for sleep's warm embrace, and though I crave her company, my passion remains tempered by the knowledge that we must part at morning's light. I feel as if I am forgetting something, but perhaps this night's sleep will refresh my mind. Until the morrow, then.

17th of December

Epiphany! Early this morning I was struck by sudden realization: I need not continue like this, sleeping so seldom. I spend too much time awake, but I have solved it; the issue has ceased to be, though why this idea did not occur to me previously I cannot say.

That zebra, the one that dwells deep within the Everfree forest -- she is the solution! I recall a patient of mine having mentioned her, impressed by her ability in alchemy; he claimed she cured his insomnia. I knew if she could not assist me, I was beyond help.

The zebra is an apothecary of sorts; she specializes in exotic ingredients and is an expert in medicine. I paid her visit early this morning; she welcomed me warmly, but once I had expressed my desire, she grew reserved. Having retrieved a half-filled flask, she questioned my want of such a tonic. I pretended to suffer from insomnia, though, while this was not altogether untrue, the symptoms had disappeared weeks ago. I am not fit for fabrication; that is what she told me. She then refused me the mixture, and begged my departure.

I left, but later returned under the cover of night. Forcing my way into her hut, I located the familiar flask and was gone again, within the minute. Fortunately she had not been home, yet she would discover the broken door upon her return. I cared not; all I considered was the dream that awaited me.

It is now that I write this, again at home. After examining the bottle more carefully, I have discovered it devoid of markings. and am unsure of the amount to take. I suppose I must measure out what seems reasonable, and attempt to discover an appropriate dosage by trial.

My excitement soars! Should this potion prove successful, no longer will the sun herald my return to the realm of the awakened. I am free to see her for as long as I like -- free also from filling my waking hours penning this abominable journal. In fact, the book stands to me as an affront, mocking the dissonance within my very soul! However, I will be healed soon enough; I will imbibe a miracle.

I remembered what I had forgotten -- her first words to me: you must escape. I understand now; it was no warning, but an invitation! Tomorrow I will note the time of my awakening, and then I shall adjust my intake as necessary. I intend to sleep for just under a day, but it is doubtful that I will achieve such this first night. Enough! I will leave such worries for the future. For now, I must away into my dreams! Finally, there is time for you, my darling.

I have escaped.

18th of December

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