True in the sense that I actually dreamed this last night.

Note: the character Ron is my boyfriend. Brian is my brother.


The Madman: An Epic Dream Sequence

Ron, my brother, and myself were all hiding out in a beautiful living room of a small house. We didn't own or live in it, but we let the TV keep us company because outside there was a madman who wanted to kill us. Or so I was told. I never saw this madman. Only Ron and Brian's horror-stricken faces showed me the danger we were in and I felt even more frightened than they because at least they knew who it was. I trusted that they would keep me safe, especially Ron, who gave me an axe and several small wooden sticks with blades at the end to defend myself. All there was on TV was a show in black and white that I've never heard of. And upon my request to change the channel, Ron refused, deeming it inappropriate to watch anything humorous during a time of life-or-death. I called him absurd, but he still refused. And we stayed on guard in front of the TV for a while, before I had to go to the bathroom. The house didn't have one, Ron told me, so I would have to use the small path to crossover into our home next door, which was abandoned and messy from the struggle to leave. I stealthily creeped into the house, leaving my axe and several small, sharp-edged outside of the door. After relieving myself and washing my hands, I heard a loud thump, outside. I was immediately scared out of my mind, and went to grab the heaviest thing I could find: a large candle on the edge of the sink. I kept my eyes on the door as I backed up slowly, only to trip and fall backwards into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain off the rod and bringing it down with me in one giant pile of Elsa and blue vinyl. I kept the candle high in the air, making sure it didn't break because it was my only hope of survival. I struggled to get up, my ass stuck in the tight frame of the tub and soaked to my panties from remaining small puddles of past washes. I managed to sit on the edge of the tub, and just then the door swung open. A manic, milk-white youngman barged in, closing the door behind him and looking at me with a cocked head before taking a seat on the lid of the wicker hamper. He was thin, dressed in all black, and his long, stringy, jet-coloured hair dangled in his face. His long, boney fingers were wrapped around the handle of a small, silver mallet, which was splattered in fresh, dripping blood. His eyes were black, endless holes, iris overcome by pupil, and complementary dark rings in semi-circles underneath his eyes. While he looked down at his mallet, in both wonder and delight, he let out a blood-chilling shriek of laughter. A laughter of complete success. I was terrified. Though he saw me previous, and paid no attention, he looked at me a second time, and blinked rapidly, as if he didn't know I was there. And he leap from his seat at me, laughing that shrieky laugh. I toppled into the tub once again, trying to get away, and he sat on top of me pounding his fists against the tub, laughing and spitting grey liquid and blood into my face. He swung his mallet around carelessly, without aim, just attempting to hit me in anyway he could. This was the madman. I managed to shove him off of me and I stepped on him as I sprinted out the door. I could hear his screech and his bounding steps coming up behind me as I took the tunnel back to the small house. And as I locked the door and ran into the living room, the madman's noises stopped. Brian was playing video games, laughing, at a time like this. I explained to him what happened and asked him where Ron was. He said he went to get some food and a few minutes later, Ron came back. He handed me a paper bag, which was heavy and stained with red. I looked at it wide-eyed and noticed Ron and my brother trying to hide smirks. I was annoyed, that they could laugh, when I was just attacked, almost killed, by the Madman. Ron nudged my hand, as if telling me to open the bag, and, reluctantly, keeping an eye on their reactions, I did. Inside was the Madman's mallet, covered in blood. I let it drop, and looked at Ron and my brother, who were laughing hysterically on the floor, it made a large clank against the wooden floor . And I looked Ron in the eye and I knew, it was him. He was the Madman. And this whole thing was a set up to scare me. But something about his cackling laughter made it seem real. It was Ron, who was the Madman, who cornered me in a dazzling, oscar-worthy performance not unlike Heath Ledger's Joker, but I also knew that the blood on the mallet was human.