Good morning my darklings.  I know for sure most of you reading this have seen The Exorcist.  I’ve seen it countless times and, thought the movie and the remastered version with outtakes, are excellent, I am a writer and have read the book.  The book is better on the simple fact that if you can forget about the movie and let your mind create the pictures, it’s much scarier.  Plus the boy that Mr. Blatty based the book on is from Maryland so there’s that hometown connection.  But this blog isn’t about The Exorcist, or the mediocre follow-ups.  This is about a personal experience of what I, and others that I’ve talked to (no Priests, they freak me out but people of my witchly ways) feel was an attempt on me at a point in my life.  Okay, here’s the short version.

Okay, so it starts in a dream of my schools cafeteria and it’s one of those dreams that even though you don’t know you’re dreaming, you know everything is not right.  The familiar surroundings are off somehow.  My friends are giving off some unnatural bad vibe that makes me want to just get away from them.  They move too fast, then too slow.  I feel like the room is talking about me even though I’m good at blending into the background.  Then into the scenario comes an ultra good-looking guy.  One that suits just my tastes at the time.  I’m confused but he seems sure of himself in the situation like everything’s normal and all of a sudden I am positive that I’m the one with issue, not what’s happening around me, not the feeling of unease in my stomach or the urge telling me to run mingling with the fear that tells me to stay in the exact place I’ve found to be out of the way in and freeze/hide so I don’t draw attention to myself.

But Mr. Gorgeous with the black hair and sunglasses finds me with a simple glance around the room.  Suddenly my table is empty except for Mr. Gorgeous who is now sitting across from me.  He’s talking to me and I can’t understand the words until he tell says, “You will.”  He leans over and takes my hand, it’s warm and strong and I like it as much as some part of my brain is still screaming to run but from miles away.  I guess this would be called The Swoon.  He takes his sunglasses off and then reaches over to hold my wrist with that hand in what would seem a normal manner if the crowd in the cafeteria wasn’t surrounding us to watch.  He has nice normal brown eyes that bleed over to fully black and I’m sure it’s because he allows it that I can pull my hand away.

Thankfully true fear kicks in and I realize that I’m not dreaming.  I never ate lunch in the cafe.  I ate outside with my friends.  I went to an all girls high school.  Pieces like that start to fall into place as I finally get up to run.  He turns to watch a smile on his face that still manages to turn my heart over.  But the harder I run and the more I beg myself to wake up, the heavier my legs get.  I resort to screaming my own name in my head louder and louder, as loud as I think I can possibly push energy through my sleeping head.  The crowd closes in on me and I sit straight up in my bed.

I lean back but not lay back.  I’m too afraid I’ll go back to sleep.  I think about going to get my mother, but I was a teenager and that officially made me too old to need my mommy for a nightmare no matter disturbing it was.  So I sit there.  There dark is not so dark and I can see my room and take comfort in the nice normal (for me) surroundings.  My night side table with the draped lamp “for ambiance”, my shelves of books, incense burners, charm holders, unicorns from my boyfriend, the vanity full of goth make-up and the fishnets I had just dropped on the floor with my Doc’s.  I eyed the closet because there was definitely something there.  I’d always sensed it but had put up my minor witch shields and felt safe in them then, though I’d laugh at them now.

Then, to my ultimate horror, this darkened almost golden mist began from my shelves, falling to the floor and headed for me bed, like a noxious vapor.  Was I awake?  Was this real?  Was I still asleep and still doing a battle of wills with Mr. Gorgeous?  I didn’t want to know.  I wanted out of the room.  But when I tried to move it was like the dream and my legs refused to obey me.  I was still dreaming and only thought I was awake.  He’d given me my comfort but wasn’t done.  The mist crawled up the bottom of my bed and began encompassing me from my feet and working its way up.  I knew that if it covered me, I’d be gone.  I’d be his and whatever came with that.  I laid back on my pillows and pulled at all the will, all the magic I had and didn’t know I had.  I called to powers that would listen because back then I didn’t know all the names.  I just threw power at the ever creeping dark gold mist and the powers that be for help to save me.

Eventually the mist subsided, sliding down my legs like peeling skin.  And I did wake up, sitting straight up in my bed, afraid of a repeat because I was exhausted and wasn’t sure if I had any fight left in me.  But it had taken, what I assume now was the whole night because just the pinkish orange rays of sun were touching the corner of my window and I felt safe.

I got out my bed, glad that my legs decided to listen this time and made some coffee while my parents slept unaware.  I went outside to sneak a cigarette.  I deserved it.  But the coffee and cigarette breakfast are now my morning routine.  I hope to never go through that again, though I think I’m much more capable to deal with it and maybe that’s why I haven’t.  But I do still have dreams where I wake up crying and usually, if I remember them, there’s a very handsome man in the back with dark sunglasses.