Before I woke up this morning, I was dreaming this:
I’m living in a small town in the Ozarks, where I’m friends with the sheriff. It seems like the night will last forever, the sun not rising, and weird things are going on in town. People call or come to the sheriff’s station complaining of feeling like they’re watched constantly, or they get lost walking short, familiar routes, or they can’t find their keys or a spoon or a bowl or some other small thing, but then later they find it exactly where it should be. I’m helping the sheriff and his deputies take all the statements, but we’re not sure what to do about these complaints.
Dawn finally comes while I’m at the station. A woman in her sixties wanders into town, accompanied by a young man in a three-piece suit. The woman wears a dark blue shawl embroidered with gold suns, moons, and stars, and carries a large handbag, holding it in front of her. She stops at the local mechanic’s garage to ask for help and then comes to the sheriff station. She claims she was driving through the mountains when she got lost and then her car swerved off the road and broke down just outside of our town. She says her getting lost and her car trouble was all caused by the evil machinations of Cthulhu. But wherever the woman and her friend go in town, the people around her suddenly freeze like statues. When she walks away, the people can suddenly move again and they gasp for air, since their paralysis stopped them from breathing. Only the sheriff and I are unaffected by her.
Throughout the dream, this song was also playing on repeat in my head:
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