By Wil Forbis
Halloween has rolled around and prepared to make its way in to our midst.
And as such, I've been spending the past several weekends preparing
for my most favorite of holidays. I want this to be the best Halloween
ever, so I've spared no expense. I've obtained the required items, the
cases of Old Milwaukee, the peyote that's been officially blessed by
Leonard Peltier (hey, he's got lawyer fees) and those little tequila
lollipops that I always hand out to the kids (they love the worm.) I've
booked several rooms at the same hotel where they're holding the annual
Wiccan Community Wet T-shirt contest, and have scheduled three of America's
finest dominatrixes to come by and give me their "Bob Crane"
special. Yeah, it looks like my Halloween's gonna be a great one.
But what about you, dear,
lonely Acid Logic reader? What can be done to bring a trifling of Halloween
joy to your empty lives? I thought long and hard about what I could
do to make your Halloween season a memorable one, and finally came across
an epiphany. A Halloween theme issue! Wouldn't it be a gas if each Acid
Logic contributor turned in a literary retelling of their scariest dream?
Would that not make this the keenest Halloween ever?
Well, I thought so, but apparently
no one else did. Max Burbank made a valiant effort with his analysis
of our universal dreams, but
it wasn't exactly hair raising. And Saleeby didn't even bother going
anywhere near the subject instead offering up a bio
of Tommy Chong. Sheesh!
Well, we're not going to
let them spoil our Halloween are we? I know you depend on Acid Logic
to make your holiday seasons enjoyable, especially since your family
served you with that restraining order, so I'm going to do my best to
entertain you. What follows is a actual retelling of what I consider
to be the scariest dream of my life. Sit back with your glass of Thunderbird
and let the eerie mood of the Acid Logic orange and yellow color scheme
set your mind adrift to Morpheous' realm.
I was visiting my childhood
home of Hawaii when I had the dream and fittingly enough, that's where
it took place. It started with me wandering down a lonely two lane Hawaiian
highway, presumably around 4:00 in the afternoon. I was essentially
lost and had no way of knowing which direction to go to lead myself
back into any sort of civilization. So I began walking down the highway,
keeping and eye out for any oncoming traffic.
Eventually a truck did come
down the road, and stopped to pick me up. The driver was a local (some
mix of Japanese and Hawaiian) and he proceeded to start chatting me
up with his thick pigin' accent. I responded to his friendliness, but
was still struck with an uncomfortable feeling that something was out
of place. And indeed this feeling was confirmed as I looked ahead on
our road and saw a lone cloaked figure up ahead. It was a black hooded
individual and though I couldn't see detail about this person as we
approached, somehow, in the back of my mind I knew who it was. And indeed
as we passed, I stared into this figure's face and saw I grinning human
skull staring back at me. I was looking into the face of Death!
My compatriot made no notice
of the figure as we passed him, and I got the impression he was unable
to see the Grim Reaper. It was as if I had been granted some ability
to see elements not apparent to normal humans. The local simply kept
talking as we drove past our visitor, but I ignored his yammerings and
looked back at the ghost we'd just passed. The apparition became smaller
and smaller as we sped away from him, but I was still able to see him
reach into a clock and hold up a piece of paper. Though I had no way
of reading the document from a distance, dream logic informed my of
what it symbolized. Death was in essence giving notice that he had come
to claim a soul, and that either the driver or myself would soon reach
the end of our journey through life.
Obviously, one thought raced
through my brain. "One of us is going to die, so I damn well better
make sure it's this chickenfuck sitting next to me!" There wasn't
anything I could do to cause his death (unfortunately), but I knew I
had one advantage over my good samitarian friend: I knew death was coming
whereas he did not. If I stayed on my toes I just might make it out
of the experience.
Soon, it became clearer just
how death might isolate one of us. The road we were on was becoming
windier and windier while the truck driver seemed to drive faster and
faster. We were rounding corners at excessive speeds and though I politely
admonished the driver to stop, he just kept on talking, oblivious to
my pleas. The corners became sharper until the driver did manage to
fail his turn and the truck flew of the road.
The area surrounding the
highway we'd be driving in was a marshy, grassy environment, similar
to what you'd expect in Louisiana or on the North Shore of Hawaii. The
truck rose through the air and headed into a swampy lake. I knew that
if I was in the truck when it touched water there would be a good chance
I'd be stuck in it as it sank so I opened the door and leapt out. I
landed in the water and seconds later heard the truck splash down. As
far as I could tell, the local had not made it out, and I began a hurried
rush for shore, performing the breaststroke of a young Mark Spitz. I
kept my ear out for the local's voice, as I knew the less I heard from
him, the more the chance that he was Death's intended victim. As I dragged
my body onto the swampy shore it became obvious that I'd pulled it off.
I was the survivor, and the Grim Reaper had chosen another for his embrace
Then it happened. I heard
the local's voice call out "Eh, braddah! I'm all right" and
I saw him emerge from the depths of the lake. My heart sank as I lay
on the muddy bank and I saw a shadow fall across my view. I looked up
and saw the figure of Death above me. As I watched he pulled out a plastic
wrapper and released it from his hand. It fluttered down and gracefully
wrapped itself across my face. Instantly I was cut of from oxygen. For
what seemed like minutes I lay there as the ache in my lungs increased
and I felt the life drain from my body. Eventually... everything faded
to black... and I woke up.
Pretty fucked up, huh? I
remember waking up and realizing that old wives tail about how if you
die in your sleep you die in real life wasn't true, but nonetheless,
I was pretty shaken up. And I can recall the dream today with crystal
However, I'm glad you gave
me the chance to share this dream with you. It really makes my feel
like one of those zombiefied storytellers in the old E.C. comic books.
You know, the CryptKeeper, or the GraveDigger, or the MausoleumFinancialAdvisor.
Except unlike them I don't have a hideous decaying maw or rag covered,
skeletal frame but rather a casual smile that's been described as "easy
on the eyes" and a trim, Alec Baldwin-like figure. Yeah, I ain't
no zombie. At least I got that going for me.