The keeper of Nightmares

I can steer dreams in any direction if I so choose. I can control and manipulate aspects of the dream, and even change the scenery. I can fly, create complex naughty narratives and wreak all kinds of mayhem and mischief within the nightmare world.

I can travel to exotic places centuries beyond my imagination...conjure fantastic images at the wink of an eye.

Recently, I have come to realize the power of lucid dreaming, such a fascinating state of sleep where I become aware that I was dreaming. I am able to exert some control over the dream environment, narrative, and characters. Once I go into the (REM) stage of sleep, all hell can break loose, as my actions become more vivid and active.

I stand in front of my dream mirror, staring at my new reflection. I am wonderful. I lean in closer, my dream me is perfect. I can honestly say...

"I loved her to the point of invention".

In my little sleepy neighborhood of Perfectville, nothing exciting ever happens, so for a while I began to enter peoples dreams and manipulate them. Each night, I would slip into their world of dreams, bending the dream to become horrible ghostly nightmares. Oh, the wonderful screams of terror and sleepless nights which my snooty neighbors endured. Those uppity snobs, always turning up their noses at my little unobtrusive home and my daily fight to survive. They were only well-to-do, not that much better off than me, I huffed.

But one night, something changed. I found himself in a lucid nightmare, unable to wake up or control the transitory world around me.

I was being reinvented.

I was trapped in a dark and foreboding valley of shadows within a horrid mazelike hellish nightmare world, where blood-soaked walls whispered secrets of a vengeful spirit. A spirit which hunted those who dared to venture into the dreams of others and disturb the strands of foretold dreams and nightmares.

Lucinda was her name, and she was a cruel spirit mistress.

In life she had been burned at the stake as a witch and now her job was to seek retribution, those who drew her attention would learn her fury and power gained from her wrongful death. I soon realized that Lucinda's spirit had hijacked my lucid dream, turning it into her realm of horror.

As the night wore on, my fear grew. Lucinda's spirit became more powerful, feeding off my terror. She revealed her plan to use me as a vessel to escape the dream world and exact her revenge on the ones who wronged her, and upon their descendants as well.

Desperate to escape, I remembered the techniques I had used to induce lucidity. I focused on my breathing, performed reality checks, and reminded myself that I was merely dreaming. Slowly, I began to gain control, turning the maze into a labyrinth of my choosing, and leading Lucinda's spirit on a wild chase.

The spirit of the nightmare became furious, her form blazed aglow with a fire so scorching I had to close my eyes for fear of going blind. In that instant, her unholy angry fire seared through all of my defenses, breaking down all the barriers of my dream.

Lucinda clasped me in her fiery embrace and held on tight. My soul burned with all the fires of hell combined and I knew that my reign of terror on my neighbors was over. Now it was my turn to feel the wrath of the hellfire.

As dawn approached, I finally found the strength to awaken. Yet, I felt strange, my room looked strange. The mirror upon the wall was positively medieval, made of polished metal, the kind that the poor fashionable ladies of those past dark times had to use instead of glass mirrors. Silly religious confessions had everyone believing that the devil was looking and watching the world from the opposite sides of glass mirrors.

Alarmed, I realized that it was not me staring from the convoluted depths of the polished metal, it was Lucinda, dressed in the horrid fashion of the times.

Ye gads...the old religious zealots had been right all along, the devil does observe us from the depths of cursed mirrors.

Lucinda had succeeded in her quest to inhabit someone's body and execute her plan to enact her revenge upon those responsible for her plight.

In my quest to enact revenge on my stupid neighbors, I have now become DEATH.

I need to first explain the enormity of the situation within which I now find myself embroiled. I need to do so quickly, before Lucinda completely obscures my 'lucid' mind.

We travelled on a ghostly steam powered locomotive, the terrain surreal and foggy, the moon casting frightful shadows over the landscape.

I found myself in the town of Trier in Germany. In the late 16th century, Trier experienced one of the largest witch trials and mass executions, where many were burned at the stake. Witch hunts were common in Europe from the mid-1400s to the 18th century, with Germany having the highest execution rate. It’s important to note that while burning at the stake was a common form of execution for those found guilty of witchcraft, most accusations originated from personal rivalries and disputes in small towns and villages rather than from the church itself.

There were many souls which my Lucinda had it in for.

I cannot begin to explain the bloodshed which followed, the horror which my mind and soul endured while locked in the body of a vindictive and unforgiving ghost.

As the days passed, strange occurrences began to plague Perfectville. Shadows lurked in corners, and whispers filled the night. Some say Freida's spirit (me) did escape through nightmares, and now roams, seeking long-awaited revenge.

Freida had disappeared into thin air, never to be heard from again.

I am now trying my best to lucid dream again, albeit fearing what might be waiting for me in the darkness of my own mind.

One year later, the neighbor across the street beheld a terrible sight. Freida opened her door and walked out. She had aged twenty years, her long gray hair flowed below her buttocks, and her aura glowed almost translucent, almost as if she were a ghost.

But Freida was not a ghost. Inside the house was a large medieval polished metal mirror, a series of large and small glass mirrors from the dark age and the spirit of Lucinda, admiring herself in front of the large glass mirror. Lucinda had made sure to have her many mirrors brought back through Freida's dreams.

At nights the dream would recur, Lucinda would roam the world seeking the ancestors of the evil reign of the persecutors of women. I have no idea when this will all end, I am powerless when dreams are controlled by Lucinda, keeper of the wheel of dreams.

I had come to embrace the part of me that became Lucinda, she keeps doing her deeds and allows me to dream my dreams sometimes. Now we co-exist in the same space, living in our home. The living and the dead at peace.

I fear that I have come to love her to the point of invention.

The mirrors are worth a fortune. Some we will sell and remove ourselves from Perfectville, to a place of our choosing.

Dreams and nightmares will become our forte.

Lucinda is eager to visit your dreams.

She will be sure to admire you as you sleep...she will muse longingly:

"I loved her to the point of invention". And she will.

For death is the pinnacle of perfected invention in our world.

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Prompt:

I loved her to the point of invention

- Sarah Ruhl, The Clean House