Wednesday, 2016-03-02 (!!!), Afternoon

I kept obsessing over the cube, for most of the day, but there is something else that caught my attention. I am missing a week. An entire week, hidden away somewhere beyond memory; It turned March without me even noticing. I went back and read through my journal, but I couldn’t see an obvious time where this week could have gone. Something almost as worrying, no one else seems to have noticed. No missed calls, no emails,  no messages, nothing. I even missed that psychiatrists appointment and nobody followed up on that.

Have I, in that week, cut all ties? Maybe I was at that appointment? Did I delete all communication from that time? Why don’t my friends care, why doesn’t work care?

I know that this missed week should be reason enough to have myself committed to the hospital. But I have to see the next dream, first, I can not risk medication or sedation taking it away. I have to go back. I need to figure out this mess myself.

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Wednesday, 2016-02-24

There is a cube below, below, there is a cube. There is a cube below, of perfect shape, there is a cube of black. There is a cube below, of perfect black, reflecting all, the surface an impeccable clear silver. There is a cube below, of impossible color, there is a cube below, in perfect smothness. There is a cube below, in a giant cave. A cube, a perfect cube of unknowable size. There is a cube below, it draws me. My reflection walks towards me in perfect clarity, from an infinite blackness. There is a cube below, and a smell of metal. Below, a cube awaites me. A cube, below, filling my vision, black, silver, a reflection of itself, dark, shining, cold, perfection. A mirror, in the cave, a perfect surface, I walk towards myself, there is no choice, A perfect cube. I touch it. I feel nothing, I am awake, I am calm, there is no sweat, my bedding perfectly level. I understand that the cube is to big for a single dream. I understand, in the next dream, I will understand.

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Tuesday, 2016-02-23

I am getting closer. I ran from the presence in the wood so many times now, but never before have I felt it so clearly. It feels wild, mad, raging, senselessly destructive, devouring life without purpose as the forest withers. There is no reason in it, nothing to reason with. I know this with a certainty that is only present in dreams, when things are simply taken for granted, with nothing to indicate the deduction of these brute facts.

Just as the presence in the woods, I sensed that in the cave more clearly as well. It is cold, it is iron. Calculating, scheming, mad. I saw blackness in the cave today. Nothing but a blackness, filling almost the entire room, but with clearly defined borders.

I don’t know why, but I kept searching the internet again today. And I don’t know how, but I found something. A strange website that has clearly never seen the light of CSS. There are hidden links there, easy to miss and references I don’t understand. It talks about strange books with a clear expectation that every reader knows their contents by the letter. I would discount it all as useless gibberish, but some of these references could be about an owl being. Some of the references are remarkably similar to my feelings in the dream. Some of the references speak to me.

The site is a pain to navigate, and, it seems, purposefully so. Content is spread around hidden subpages, snippets are hidden in mouseover texts. I spent half the day until I found it, and half the day on it. Nothing has made much sense yet, but I have a feeling like I just have to read more and all will fall into place.

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Monday, 2016-02-22

The dream is changing… Or rather, it’s continuing. The cave, now brightly lit by the truth, glowing as bright as my understanding, definite in it’s completeness. A way has opened or revealed itself in the sick red light. I follow it. The symbols keep repeating, the same message, over and over again. I can not differentiate between the strange symbols and their transliteration or their meaning. It is like the message, true and removed from it’s presentation, is written on the wall, and it is only my eyes viewing it that overlay the different representations they have witnessed.

There has always been a presence in the cave, and as I follow the pathway, it strengthens, becomes oppressive. I can feel now, clearly, that it is different from the hunting presence from before. I can’t quite lay my finger on the difference. There are veins of glittering ore in the walls, the way widens, I can not stop going further, regardless of the mounting pressure and fear.

The path becomes a hall, the hall opens into a giant cavern, and inside the cavern… I awake.

It was afternoon when I woke up, I had slept a full 10 hours, just one dream. It holds a renewed significance now. All night, I obsessed over the little details, going through it again and again, in my head. I scoured the internet for hints, searching for mentions of eternal immortal owls and all sorts of variations of the message. I found nothing relevant in the heap of information. The dream will take me back soon, I can not wait, I want to see more.

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Sunday, 2016-02-21

This now, is the truth. The missing words are Finnish. „Iäisyyden“ revealed this fact to me very quickly, of course, thanks to the internet. It took a while to deduce the rest of the words from the little sample of letters I had, and checking for each probable combination if the result was valid Finnish. But this now, is the truth. This is the full text, the true message.

i am eternal
iäisyyden kuolematon pöllö
asleep waiting
iäisyyden kuolematon pöllö
it is time
iäisyyden kuolematon pöllö
awaken
iäisyyden kuolematon pöllö ymmärryksen takaa

Apparently, the finnish part translates to eternity immortal owl and „eternity immortal owl understanding from behind“ or something in that vein. Maybe a less… mechanical translation could be something like „eternal immortal owl (from) beyond understanding“?

I have concluded that it is a name or title, I feel like nothing else would adequately explain the structure of the text. Now that I finally found the meaning of these dreaded symbols, I don’t know what I am supposed to do with this information.

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Friday, 2016-02-19

No dream tonight. I feel refreshed.

Yesterday was great, I got so many things done. First, I went to the psychiatrist, and seeing the state I was in, he was able to make some time, although for some reason my wednesday appointment seemed to have gotten lost. Well, all the better, since I missed it anyways, I guess. I showed him my journal. He said I should seriously consider stationary treatment. He found it extremely worrying that apparently I had lost control and/or memory of my actions for some amount of time. I told him that I would consider it, especially should the situation worsen. I told him that I felt confident that I would be able to seek treatment before I lost too much control.

Maybe it was just hard to imagine, from a relatively sane perspective, how I could not be in control of my actions. Maybe the craziest thing I ever did was to not act on his warnings immideatly. In any case, for now, I’ll trust that I can get through this without resorting to such extreme measures. I also got some medication against anxiety, and my next appointment.

After the my visit to the psychiatrist I went to the library. It was unevenful and unremarkable. I spent about an hour browsing the books, but nothing really held my interest. When I left the building, I felt a lot less tired for some reason. Ate street food for dinner and went home, and slept for a long time.

Today, after sleeping in, I went shopping for groceries and cleaned the apartment. Nothing else of notice.

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Thursday, 2016-02-18

I don’t know what to do. I just looked back over my journal entries for the last two weeks. It seems like things are getting more and more out of hand. I don’t know if I’m going crazy or if there is some higher power at work, something far, far beyond my understanding. I missed my follow up appointment at the psychiatrist yesterday. It didn’t even cross my mind until now, I was so absorbed in dreams and cryptic messages written „in the color of blood“, but clearly just with a red pen.

Nothing about this makes any sense. Why would I write in symbols I can’t read, but which translate perfectly into Latin letters, and form a message in English, plus some weird language I can’t understand? If it even is some language and not just random scribbling. If it’s a code, why make it so easily crackable, even bolding the non-English part to make it easier to distinguish? There is nothing in there that makes it harder for an outside observer to crack than for me. If it’s not a code, why not just write in plain English?

And then, the dream itself, what does it even mean? If it’s supposed to tell me something, why would it not make sense to me? But if it’s just nonsense, why does it keep repeating? It’s like someone trying to speak to someone else in a language the other person doesn’t understand, and just trying again and again, louder and louder, rather than trying to find some common ground of communication. And I don’t even know who’s doing the screaming, if it’s some weird alien presence, or some weird part of my psyche.

Looking back, I’ve been obsessed with solving a riddle which I don’t even know for sure to be one. Maybe there is no message, nothing to understand, maybe it’s just my brain trying to make sense of what started as a harmless, nonsensical nightmare, and by obsessing over it, became a fixture. And maybe I shouldn’t try to make hypothesis about what my brain is doing when I know next to nothing about psychology. Which brings me back to my missed appointment. I should really show someone this journal.

I’m getting really tired again. I’m afraid to go to sleep, who know if I’ll be this clear when I wake up again? I’m also running out of food. I haven’t left the house for a week now. It’s ten already. If I go to bed now, even if I set an alarm, I won’t wake up before four, for sure. And then it might be to late, regardless of the time. I have to go now.

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Wednesday, 2016-02-17

The truth, finally, the truth, shown to me! The cave showed me the truth. It reminded me of what I had forgotten, what I had chosen to ignore, the symbols growing bright red on its walls. Yes, bright and terrible, terrible red, but some more deep than others!

And those most terrible kept repeating, thrice in the same manner, and one time more, with a tail. For long hours, or so it felt, I stared at the revelation, I stared at the letters, I couldn’t look, I was hypnotised. I woke up. Finally, I woke up. It was evening. And all night, all night I stayed up. And I did it, I did it. Here is the transcription, again, so much more true to form:

A B C D E D F G B H
A I A J K K L D G M N O H D C B E O G P Q H H Q
B J H D D P R B A E A G S
A I A J K K L D G M N O H D C B E O G P Q H H Q
A E A J E A C D
A I A J K K L D G M N O H D C B E O G P Q H H Q
B R B T D G
A I A J K K L D G M N O H D C B E O G P Q H H Q
K C C U F F K J D G E B M B B

And in this true form, at last, I revealed its secrets! Analysing just the frequencies of letters in the non-repeating part, I found it!

i am eternal
asleep waiting
it is time
awaken

Oh, it took some shuffling around, it took some experimenting, but there are only so many combinations, now, with less letters involved, and less gibberish. And then, of course, I could apply the same rules, the same replacements, to the rest of the text.

And thusly transformed, the bold part yields:

i I i s K K L e n M N O l e m a t O n p Q l l Q
i I i s K K L e n M N O l e m a t O n p Q l l Q
i I i s K K L e n M N O l e m a t O n p Q l l Q
i I i s K K L e n M N O l e m a t O n p Q l l Q
K m m U r r K s e n t a M a m

Nothing. Nothing, NOTHING, N O T H I N G, worse than nothing, it is trash, useless, worthless, senseless! I even tried searching for the clear fragments, but they are too short, too general. I only know it is not English. Why, why, must it taunt me so?

The sun is rising. Oh, how the sight disgusts me. It, too, is taunting me, reminding me of another sleepless night, promising another day spent dreaming of insane symbols, always the same. And already I feel the strain, already I feel tired. And then there is the other desire, of which I dare not speak. No, I should just go to bed. Nothing good will come of this day if I stay awake much longer.

I did not know one could hate the sunrise until it became a reminder of my own fading sanity.

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