As The Raven Dreams Podcast - There Is No Story

Episode Date: July 10, 2021

There Is No Story, not today. I'm sorry. This... This is a confession... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 😉 Click here to subscribe: https://www.youtube.com/c/astheravendreams?view_as=subscriber?sub_confirmation=1 --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/astheravendreams/support Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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There is no story here. No, there's no crazy tale, no glitchy experience, a creepy encounter, or a paranormal haunt for you all to dig your teeth into. Well, not this time at least. No, this... This is a confession. A confession that I am willing to give to you to deliver from this stage of my design. A confession that I feel that all... all of you should hear.

I need more than anything in this world to let these words escape my lungs and to get these thoughts outside the walls of my skull. I hope more than anything that I can say them.

And that when I do, there'll be enough to stop this absolute nightmare that has become my life. Maybe once I confess, once I declare myself regretful of these actions that I've taken.

Maybe then I'll be able to close my eyes and relax my body. Well, if not, then I fear for what I'm going to do when this admission of guilt has concluded. Now, this, I know, this may feel confusing and strange and awkward to you all. You're used to me coming in here to tell you a scary story. You're used to hearing my cheerful and uniquely-toned voice echo through your eardrums to deliver that weary mind of yours unto a world that you can visualize. You expect stories about ghosts, strange people, breaks in reality, and even the horrors of the dark web.

Right? That's what you're here for. I know what you expect. But I have to apologize to you for just today. Today will be none of those. No, today's story, it breaks from the confines of those true tales that I frequently tell you, and it holds a truth of its own. Once more, today's story is my confession. Now, if I am to confess to you all of the things that I've done and how I've become this shriveled mess that is currently speaking to you,

then, I suppose, I should start from the beginning, that first day when things started to change. To be honest, at the risk of almost sounding cliche, it started like literally every other day of my 30-year life. I actually remembered that morning quite clearly. I woke up late. I needed to be up around six so that my wife would. be awake and able to get ready for work on time. I remember the light of the morning breaking through the window and waking me up only for my eyes to drop down on to the bedside clock. I remember seeing that it was a quarter to seven.

I remember that sense of panic that hit me, that immediate sense that this was going to be an awful day, right from the minute I opened my damn eyes. I woke my wife with that panicked statement of the time. She sighed heavily at me and leapt out of bed before rushing to the bathroom and getting ready for work. I threw myself out of bed, pressed the button on my phone. There was no indication that I had turned off my alarm, nothing that seemed like it had been changed. It was as if, I don't know, fate had simply decided to challenge me and, and piss me off that morning.

Kind of like it had every other morning, but that's not the point. I hated those kinds of mornings. Now, I've always been one to be awake at five for an event that happened at eight. You know the type. The kind of person that gets dressed and has over an hour before they even have to leave the house, so they sit on the couch and practically count the seconds. That type that sets an alarm to... to tell them when to leave the house, when to go back from their lunch break, when their other

breaks are over, and when they should be going to bed. Hell, I had reminders on my phone telling me when I should be drinking water every hour. I was always on top of the time, and I always have been. That day was unique, which, now that I'm looking back at it, makes more sense than it should. Now, she got ready in record time. I swear she was dressed and out the door within five minutes. I walked her out the door and told her to drive careful and to try to have a good day. I remember that I stood there and I watched her drive away,

simply staring at her small white car as it took off up the road. She ran through a yellow light as she turned left and then exited my line of sight. I think that that right there was the first moment that something felt off. Something felt like it had changed. It wasn't until that moment that I felt, you know what? I don't even know what I felt. I'm not really sure. My skin almost felt like it was starting to freeze over.

Like the water in the air had clung to the hair on my arm, and it had started to form ice crystals. On top of this, it nearly felt like my heart had stopped beating. Now, I've had anxiety, I've had palpitations in the past, sure, but this felt like a palpitation that never let up. It was almost like my heart had decided to simply stop keeping time with my body. Like my internal clock Had decided to simply quit existing I've never had a heart attack or anything close to one I don't think

But I think that this is what it would feel like I felt like I was dead at that moment I had just simply stopped living My head was spinning My breath felt labored My vision went blurry and faded This one moment in time It felt like an instant and an eternity all at once.

Yes, I know. That's incredibly contradictory, but it's the truth. I felt as though I existed at both the beginning and end of time all at once. When it finally passed, I realized that I was still waving to my wife as she got in her car, and my mouth expelling the phrase, Have a great day, with a smile on my face. I watched as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, disappearing into the foggy morning.

That, right there, is when it clicked that something had happened to me, or maybe something had happened to everyone but me. I'm not really sure how to phrase that. It was as if everything around me had reset, but I was completely and fully aware of it. I was unsure of what to do with this knowledge, that something had changed, that something had... I really don't know, I guess, the only way I can think to say it is something reset and switched and shifted or whatever. So many words to use and no idea how to use them, right? Anyways, um, I decided that it was nothing to fret over.

After all, how was one supposed to deal with a lapse in time like this? I went inside and simply continued my morning routine, coffee, shower, and then back to the grind of trying to find a job that could fill that empty space in my life. Now, I'm really not one for self-pity, most the time, but I will mention that the grind that follows being let go from your job of several years is, tiring at best. So tiring that I managed to actually doze off at my desk in the middle of an application. I was awoken by the feeling of my phone vibrating next to my arm. The screen lit up, had that large banner that displayed my wife's name. Now, at first I thought she was just calling me to tell me that she had made it to work okay

or to tell me to take something out of the freezer for dinner because I frequently forget. I know. It's bad habits. But the voice on the other end when I answered, it wasn't my wife's. And the message it delivered? That's one that I never wished that I ever heard. Something had happened to her on the way to the office. She'd had some sort of attack while driving. and had wrecked her car into an oncoming vehicle,

one much larger than the small hatchback that she drove. From what I was told, she died on impact. She never apparently stood a chance in this collision, but she also didn't feel any pain. I think that was important to me at the time, just knowing that she didn't suffer, that she didn't feel a thing whenever she went. I won't put you through the emotional trauma that came with this situation.

Sorry. Losing a loved one is nearly impossible to deal with, honestly. Especially when that someone is your whole world. Life can be a fickle thing. One moment, everything can glow in the warmth and comfort of a settled, and mundane life. The next can be overcast with the thick fog,

the cloud your mind, and every thought as you go through the motions and conversations with those that you normally only see on holidays. As the threat of our life spins from the skeins of our future and are slowly woven into the tapestry that becomes our history,

we can rarely anticipate where the snags will be. Even less can we anticipate what may cause the threads to become frayed, or, God forbid, cut prematurely. Metaphors aside, there are things in this life that you can anticipate could happen. Sudden death from an accident, becoming a widower, possibly losing a child, but you can never truly expect them. Losing the love of my life was one of those things. Sorry, I'm trying to compose myself.

This is not an easy thing to do. I'm trying to get through this. I apologize. That day, I was numb. The next day I was lost. And the remainder of that week, I was so confused and angry. How could she leave me behind? After so many years and so many unfulfilled plans.

It was as if that fog fell over our town to take everything away that we had worked for. Every aspiration that we had ever dared to chase. I know I'm getting off track here. I'm sorry. It's incredibly difficult to talk about. It's even harder to try to relive this to explain it so I can at least get to the point of this damn confession. But this isn't supposed to be a love letter or a letter proclaiming my sorrow. No, no, no.

supposed to be a confession. My attempt to atone for a few sins. Um, sins I never intended to commit or wanted painted on my soul. The first sin I committed was refusing to accept that she was gone. I was so stricken with the grief and pain that I begged for her to come back. Oh, somewhere around a month after she was gone. was gone after I bowed my head over that cold pine box and listened to her father give her eulogy.

I was just lying there in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun and listening to the cold wind as it assaulted the side of the house. I stared and just kept thinking of all the times that she and I were supposed to share. and I begged I begged constantly hard nonstop I begged with all of my heart to whomever was listening

to let me have her back to just let her come home again after staring at the fan spinning and listening to the sound of the rain as it seemed to drown my small town I think I must have fallen a

sleep. It might have been the first time since she had passed. And that night I had a dream that was, well, I think the best way to say it is strange. It started with us at a park of some sort. I remember it was basically a clearing, a small field with a concrete walkway, and an old wooden bench randomly situated in the middle. I remember I opened my eyes and there I was, surrounded by this thick fog and the only part of this dream that was fully visible was her. She was sat there on the bench, staring away from me, staring out into the fogginess. I slowly approached the bench, but as I got closer, I started to hear what sounded like screaming inside of my head.

It started out faint and curious at first. But every step closer, it got louder and louder. Until I realized I was not supposed to get close to her. The screaming was in my head to stop me from approaching. I felt like it was my inner voice telling me that I was not supposed to be near whatever it was that was in front of me. And yet, I did. I knew I shouldn't have. I knew that something was telling me to stop.

telling me to turn around and walk away. The problem is, when you're dreaming, you don't exactly have full control over your actions. Despite the screaming that was causing my head to feel like it was about to explode, I pressed on. And I reached out, placing my hand on her shoulder. What met with my hand was not her soft.

skin. It was that same cold feeling I'd had the day that everything changed. My hand began to feel like it was frozen, and the feeling of being dead crawled back from my fingertips all the way up to my heart, and then to my head. I remember I woke up drenched in sweat and gasping for air. In retrospect, that dream was the next step into the reality that came to be, although it makes no sense for a dream to have any real bearings on reality. That next day? Well, that's when things... You know what? I'm not sure how to put it.

I know this isn't much of a confession. I don't know how to word these things. I'm sorry, damn it. It's not easy. I could say that they got strange. How about that? I could say they started to go wrong. But honestly, those words, they would just simply downgrade the truth of the situation. I walked through the next day as I had every day since she had passed. A dizzily, hastily, and with no goal or path to actually take. I simply woke up, went back to looking for a job, and stared at the wall for a few hours. I know, it's an incredibly sad existence.

But I had no drive to do anything. Then, and around four in the afternoon, as I was drowning my sorrows and something from the cabinet, I heard the front door open. I spun my office chair around to see who the hell it was that was breaking into my house. When I saw, well, her. She walked in the door like nothing had ever happened. She placed her purse on that entryway table. She hung her keys on the hook, and she glanced over towards me.

This is the exact moment that the excited butterflies dancing in my stomach quickly turned to bile and felt like they wanted me to vomit. her face was pale, her eyes were hazed over. The smile on her face fell from beautiful to horrifying, as I realized how plastic the smile actually looked. Something about the way she looked at me felt unnatural. Something about it felt like it was haunting me. It made me feel like it was peeling the soul away from my flesh, with every single second that she held her gaze on me.

I knew at that moment that whatever it was that came through that door, that was not my wife. That was not the sweet woman that I had fallen in love with so long ago. No, this figure had a similar appearance to my wife, sure, but this... This is what the screaming had been warning me about. This was what I was not supposed to see. This was what I was not supposed to wish for. This was the result of my being unwilling to accept that she was gone,

and this, forgive me, is what brings me to my next sin. When faced with a scenario such as this, there's no way to know how your brain will react. I can imagine that some people will get violently ill, Some people will fill a grip of horror as it clings to their brains, and some people will likely begin to panic. Me? In my amazing abilities, managed all three. I tried to smile back at her, but I failed.

As soon as my mouth shifted, I ran to the kitchen and I vomited into the sink. I felt this sense of existential dread. that somehow this was my doing, and I had to fix the situation. Of course, I could feel the panic attack as it settled into my lungs, my breathing in short and quick bursts, as I stood there and stared at the sink and ran the water in attempt to clean up the sick mess. I heard her taking steps from the living room and into the kitchen. I reached my trembling hand over,

and I grabbed the handle of one of my chef's knives that had been seen, sitting in the block on the counter. Out of pure instinct and self-preservation, I turned, and I lunged for the horrifying monster with as much force and aggression as I could possibly muster. The blade had its mark. It pierced the flesh of this being without much resistance.

As it did, and for just the single moment when the metal met the pale skin, I swore that I could see her for her true beauty. That exact moment, it was as if her pale and ashen's skin had shifted back to its original hue. Her gray and dull eyes were once again that beautiful hazel I had fallen in love with. She fell into me as the blood drained from her body, and the life was once again lost. Obviously, or at least obvious for me,

this was the most painful part of my confession. I murdered my wife. Okay? Or I at least murdered something that resembled her. This is where my mental conflict really started to tear me apart at the seams. This thing was not her. And yet part of me felt like maybe it was. Part of me felt remorse.

but the rest of me felt like it was what needed to be done. I held her tightly for a moment, taking in the feeling of her hair against my face, breathing in the familiar fragrance of the one I once loved, before my brain kicked back into action. The kitchen was now covered in blood, and this thing's body was lying motionless on my floor. I feel that I did as any person would if they were in my position. I picked her up, I took her to the backyard, I grabbed a shovel, and I dug a hole.

It took me most of the night, but I eventually made a grave large enough for her body, and I gently placed her in it. I spent the rest of the night reburying the hole through tears, and making it appear as though I was simply going. gardening. I planted some shrubs that we had. I made it look like nothing had ever happened, and I knew that I would be able to just move on from this horrible, horrible nightmare. Yes, it may seem harsh to say that I murdered someone or something, and then I buried it and was ready to just move on without a second thought. But I think the shock and pure adrenaline had done a

number on me. As I literally passed out the minute I got back inside and my body had the comfort of the mattress. The next morning, I opened my eyes to the light of the morning as it slowly crept into the room. The blinds of the window were opened slightly and the rising sun pulled at my eyelids. As I slowly shifted from completely unconscious to slightly conscious, the fact that the blinds were open caught my attention. I pulled my eyes open all the way and looked over at the window. The window itself was all the way open. The screen had been torn out and the blinds were destroyed completely. This revelation was followed by another. I turned to face the other half of my bed, and there lay that monster, once more. I let out a tired screech as I fell out of the bed and on to the

floor. I landed in what appeared to be dirt and detritus from the hole that I had dug the night prior. My focus slipped from the corpse in my bed to looking out the window, and sure enough, she had escaped from the grave that I had so carefully dug and designed. This was quite the situation that I had been placed in, and I was unsure of how to continue. My wife, or the clone of my wife, or whatever the hell this cursed being was, had been murdered by my hands just the night before.

And yet there she was, lying next to me in my bed and staring at me with an absolutely blood-boiling smile that seemed to be glued to her goddamn face. Her gray eyes kept their unwavering focus on me. It had seemed that, with this creature, I had run the gamut of emotions. It started with terror, of course. It fell to remorse, and now... Well, now I just hated her.

She was a mockery of the things that I loved. She was a living mannequin that had taken the appearance of my wife and was staring at me in an attempt to drive me mad. and she damn well may have succeeded. As I continue my confession, I must tell you that I attempted to kill her several more times in a number of different ways. I attempted the knife again. I tried to burn her. I tried power tools and dismemberment.

Not a single attempt was successful beyond the day that I tried it. By that I mean that even when she had been left in literal pieces on the basis, on the basis. floor. She still ended up lying next to me by the next morning. None the worst for where. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Like I had never attempted to kill her. Well, I mean, beyond the bloody mess and literal crime scene that was left behind. So now? Well, now, no matter what I do, she never stopped staring at me. She never stopped. stops watching me with those cold and dead eyes. I wish I had never asked for her to return home.

I wish I had never stared at the ceiling and wished for her to be back in my arms because whatever fucking cruel God was listening to me that day, well, they did their worst. I'm unsure of what to say beyond all this. I'm sorry. I've committed so many sins at this point. My mental health has deteriorated. to the point of no return. Every morning I wake up

next to this monster. And the first thing I'm greeted with as soon as my eyes open is the cold and dead stare that has come to haunt my life. My home is now a disgusting mess.

Blood everywhere. Dirt everywhere. Destruction, pain, hatred. Just everything everywhere. My life is in shambles, which matches the way my home looks, to be honest with you. And in just a few short days, I feel like I went from a grieving widower to an absolute madman. I would rather be alone. I would rather have lost her and be lost myself, not knowing what to do on a daily basis or where to go or even have a reason to wake up than to be stuck.

with whatever hell has been wrought upon me. Now, I do apologize to all of you that there was no story for you all to enjoy, and I think at this point there may never be again. At least not here, not on this channel. This was my confession to you all. A confession that something happened that morning a little while back, and none of you noticed it.

That day, that painful day for whatever reason, It decided to start over from the point where she left, and that was a catalyst. The beginning to my end. After wanting nothing but to have the love of my life back, I now want nothing more than to be alone. So I thought that as I wrote this confession, I would start to feel better about things. But no.

I think I've made it worse, actually. I think I simply highlighted that this will not end, this situation will not cease until I do. I know this was harsh. I know this was a bit crass, I know it was a bit direct, and maybe some of you will listen to this and think, wow, what a genuine asshole. I never told you that I was infallible. I have told you from the beginning of this channel that I am human. I am a normal person. I've told you all that I've loved you, that I appreciate you, and I have, but unfortunately at this point in time, it's just, I'm sorry for what I've done and what I'm going to do.

But I've been left with no alternatives. Hopefully the mistakes of my past can just simply be erased. Hopefully I can undo the atrocities that I've committed by taking my own life. And hopefully, just hope. I can finally rest and never have to see that damn face again.