Nowhere Else to Turn

Dear Torrent:

Harsh words--but you can't get rid of me that easily. You can't discourage me; I've nothing to lose.

I'm in trouble--bad trouble--& I don't know who else to turn to.

I'm being plagued by nightmares--& they're only getting worse. I've even started having them while I'm awake. How can this fucker be invading my dreams--while I'm awake?!...

I took your advice--rosemary under the pillow? Didn't make a lick of difference. I went to a friend of mine--she's a magician of sorts. Well--honestly, she's more of a dabbler than anything. She's got me burning colored candles & dragon's blood ...wearing this bloodstone amulet to protect me. This is way out of her league...

I have this horrible feeling that if I don't find someone who really knows what's going on--& soon--I'm going to die.

I don't want to die.

Torrent--please help me.

I've been prowling the 'net--in & out of the chat rooms. There are alot of people like me--having these dreams. We dream of your city--I feel like I've walked the fucking streets--I've dreamed it so many times. But that's not what scares me. Not at all--I'd be lying if I told you I didn't want to see it--your Ciudad--with my own eyes. This "same ole' shit--different day" routine has really been getting to me these past few years....I always thought--there must be something more. There must be...& now that I know there is....

But that isn't the point at all. It's him that scares me. Terrifies me...

The winged man--with the bandages on his eyes. The one who haunts my dreams....

Who is he? What is he?

Today I was driving to work--& my vision just--fell away like broken glass. The road, the traffic, everything was just gone. Gone--& I'm still driving forward--toward this red wrought-iron gate that seems to reach up forever...

& the gate swings open--& the Bandaged Man is sitting beneath this huge twisted tree--strumming a guitar...& he reaches his hand out to me. Blood drips from his outstretched fingers...clings to the guitar strings...

"Do what you do." he says to me, in barely a whisper. "Do what you do..."

What the fuck does that mean?!

I got so fucking scared--that I bit down on my tongue. Hard. The bitter taste of blood --& the pain--sent me crashing back to reality. & into the station wagon in front of me. Damn near killed myself--& a mom with two little kids in the backseat...

I've never been one to even ask for help--but this is me pleading with you--begging you...

Contact me--soon. Or I really might be out of your hair for good.

~Ch1M3Ra