text: June 12, 2024, This isn’t the norm for me. Keeping a journal was Cathelyne’s idea, bless her heart that Miss Abernathy. But, she says it’ll be good for me, and maybe it will be. Who am I to deny my housemaid’s demands? I kid, all in good humor. I have nothing but the utmost respect for that young lady. She’s a sweet girl, and a hard worker. She’s also excellent company. Though, I guess I’m not writing about her. Not today, anyway. Today’s entry is about the strangest dream I had last night. One that haunts me now well after breakfast as I sit in my study recollecting the dream, detail by painful detail (I suppose my latest novel will have to wait). In the dream I was standing at the kitchen sink washing up a roasting pan. I specifically remember scrubbing at a particular stubborn spot when movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned, as one does, to investigate. What I saw froze me to my core. Standing there at the edge of the center island was a completely naked man (or what I assumed to be a man). He stood with his back to me, but most appalling was the growths covering his body. From his neck down to his naked buttocks, tumor-like growths bulged beneath his skin. His arms were hanging down by his sides, and his body was shaking. There wasn’t a single hair on him apart from his hairy ass-crack (still not amusing as I look back on it) and a few limp tufts of hair clinging to his nearly bald scalp. His skin had a yellowish hue, like he was suffering from jaundice. Rolls of tumor infected loose skin hung from his body. He looked like a cancer sufferer that had lost a great deal of weight. I shook away the shock, concern for the poor fellow now growing from the original fear. “Hello?” I said, “Are you alright, sir?” I was aware of two things: My Georgia draw seemed to surprise me, which I don’t understand why, and my voice quavered. I guess I was more scared than I thought. The man stopped shaking instantly, suddenly still as a statue. I waited for a long, painful moment that could have only been a few seconds but felt like an eternity. He began to turn, narrow feet shuffling slowly in my direction. My breath caught in my throat. What I saw could not have been any living man on God’s green Earth. This man, thing, whatever it was, had one long hanging breast riddled with more tumorous bulges, while the other was gone, a neat horizontal scar running along the side. It reminded me of my mother, before that horrible breast cancer took her. His gut was swollen and distended, and I realized then the loose skin only stopped at his sides. Even his genitals were awful. One testicle swollen and reddened despite the jaundiced skin, the other gone. Just like the breasts. His arms and legs were bone thin, like all the flesh had been lipo-ed out and it was just skin and tendons. Worst of all was his face though. Good Lord in heaven, that face... It was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. Not a blemish to be seen, and pale like a clothing store mannequin. His veiny bulbous eyes bulged from their sockets. There were no eyelids, just those staring, unwavering globs. And the smile...That thing was smiling, a lipless grin that stretched from ear to ear in the most literal sense of the phrase. The maw was filled with large, flat teeth. They were stained yellow like that of a heavy smoker, dark brown plaque between each. The gums seemed to be retreating from the horrid teeth. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in fear. And the thing didn’t move either. It just stood there, staring, smiling. Its eyes never left my face and that smile never wavered. But then it moved, a hitching motion like a puppet being lunged forward by its strings. It moved toward me, and I screamed. I had screamed myself awake, and poor Cathelyne came rushing to my room, still dressed in her nightgown. “Mr. Beauregard, are you alright?” she exclaimed, her breasts rising and falling with panic and no doubt from her sudden rush to my room. My eyes darted to every corner of the room, checking for the horrible thing from my dream. With a heavy sigh I wiped the sweat from my brow and nodded. “I’m alright, just had a nightmare. Nothing to fuss about.” I tried to sound as reassuring as possible, but my racing heart made me a liar. That dream had unnerved me, and writing it down seems to have only made it worse. On top of it all, the damned headache is back with a vengeance. If it doesn’t ease up soon, I’m afraid I might have to suck it up and go to the doctor. I’ve got to go now, Cathelyne is calling me down for lunch.