Suspects he's spent too much time dwelling on the confluence of deadlands, absurd conspiracy theory and Lovecraftian madness lately - last night I had a dream that the fabric of reality was thin enough in Cory's house - that it had enough fear in it over sixty years to let a demon start scratching through the walls of reality to the walls of Cory's master bedroom. It left a message that said it had seen the stars awake and galaxies die, signed it's name on the wall. Through blind defiance alone I didn't search for the source of whatever was tearing me out of bed, as silence so deep settled in my ears and blocked out my thoughts in only the way decades of dust and ash can. I was dragged around what could have once been a room - but now was a shadow cast by particles in the air about to fall, held in by the stutter of moonlight. I think the sheets trapped me, and I think I'm saying that so I feel better about the fact I wasn't what I know to be afraid, but couldn't move all the same... I woke up and wondered if I would be the sort of person to believe in haunting, after enough dreaming.