User blog comment:Raidra/Creepypasta Nightmares/@comment-24040907-20141108083721

(This is based off a collection of weird dreams that I was considering turning into an actual creepypasta)

I lie motionless, cradled in the arms of fatigue. Tiredness was a cruel but tender mistress, stealing me away from the cold, clingy hands of insomnia for oh, so very brief moments of time. My meetings with fatigue weren't unlike any other secret affair. They began with a temptation, a temptation to sleep, despite every single fiber of my brain screaming to me that such an act is for the weak. Sometimes I'd give in, sometimes I'd just show that slut my work-load, insisting that it has to get done. Sometimes she's considerate; she leaves me alone. Sometimes she's selfish, and takes me by force.

She abducts me, and takes me to Sleep. Sleep is a place we frequent, and -my God- nothing feels better than going to Sleep, especially after a hard day of work. But when I get there, when I am deep in Sleep, that things start to go awry.

In my dream, I am on the Creepypasta Wiki. I am standing on a hill made of horror, in the midst of a black stretch of land just covered in ads. And down below me, I see people, so many people. They're reaching up at me, clutching at my ankles, chanting my name. They're calling out to me, asking me to help them.

The glass lenses of my Pandemic mask fog up, I am overwhelmed. I reach down. I touch their hands. I feel their icy fingers grasping my forearm, frozen and brittle fingernails digging into my suit-sleeves.

With each one I touch, they smile and they praise me. They bless me and they let out jovial cries in unison. Emotion wells up behind my eyes as I try to touch them all.

They gather closer, tighter, a new one coming in with every one that leaves. In the distance all I can see is a writhing, swarming, living sea of people. These Creepy People whom I've come to love so much. These beautiful, twisted souls, whom I treasure so dearly.

They all want to touch my hands now. I get on my knees and stretch out both arms to them, and where my arms cannot stretch, they stretch for me. My limbs become like elastic, and they can carry them all over. Everyone takes turns high-fiving my hands. I've never felt so alive.

I look up to the black skies, and above me I can see the Administrators. They look down upon me briefly, then disregard me. One of them gives just a flickering look of solemn approval before moving on to more important matters.

I feel right. I feel at peace. I am an Outsider but I feel right at home.

With each person who approaches me and requests my hand, I hear a heavenly beeping sound. I bestow my hand upon them, and they are satisfied. The cycle begins anew.

But then fatigue leaves me, and my eyes, they jolt open. I find that I'm laying down on the pavement, underneath my van, breathing its emissions. I must've been like that all night. My IPod is in my pocket, ringing a very pleasant tone.

It's my notifications. I check my email to find 6 new Creepypasta members requesting reviews.

Sleepy time is over. I get back to work.