Screams echo though my head until its like a bunch of people are standing in the church of my mind (if I have one) and are screaming.... which their might be a church in my head and people go about their business as if they don’t live in my head... (and they might not even know they live in my head. What if I live in someone’s head? I wouldn't like that...well, who would know?)

But this kind of thoughts are making my head hurt even more, so instead I think about what is causing the pain and screams this time. I look around my small, cluttered room for answers. I don’t find any, just that old Nine Inch Nails CD I need to give back to a friend but keep on forgetting to...maybe later, right know my main concern was to stop my head from slowly tearing itself apart. Screw trying to find out what’s causing it, I just what to survive it, at the stage its in, if I keel over dead in a minute, I wouldn’t be surprised at all...

I curl up into a ball, and soon sleep washes over me and I’m dreaming.

I dream that I’m standing on a rock that looks like somebody panted it pastel green. The rock looks to be 2 dimensions, but as I’m standing on it, how could that be? Then my uncle, the one who’s been dead for, like 2 years or something that always smelled like some kind of weird toothpaste that, for some reason, always pissed me off, was standing next to me and we are in a kitchen that has these mold colored tiles on the ceiling and I told him that the tiles where plotting to kill us and he turned to me and his face was rotting. You could see where the little maggots burrowing in and out of his skin and his nose was purple and there was a spider egg sack thing in it, one of his eye was sewn shut and the other one was open so wide I think its going to fall out of its socket. The bones in one of is cheeks is starting to poke though and the skin in general on his face looks flaky, like paint on an old fence. Some of his hair stayed on in clumps, a twisted parody of the thick hair he used to have. The rest of his body is fine though, like it was when he was alive. He wears a green suit and black and red striped pants that where 2 sizes to big, just like the cloths he wore when he was alive. Though I never saw this particular one when he was alive, maybe he was buried in it...

He turns to me accuses me in a crackly voice that I imagine came from not having anybody to talk to in that grave of his, “You didn’t come to my funeral!" I look at him and say, “So? I didn’t know you were dead until like,3 weeks after you died...."

He shakes his head. "That’s not important! That’s not the point! You should have known! You should ha-" At this point in his speech, the killer tiles are falling on him and start tearing off his head with fish teeth.

I decide I'll just leave before they notice me. I walk out of the kitchen of Doom and into a living room. There’s a very big and very ugly green couch in the middle of the room, and a TV off to the side that’s is showing a headless man that’s screaming at the me. He’s saying, "You shouldn’t have ate it! Why did you eat it?! Beware the stories!" Why does it seem that everybody is yelling at me today? Oh well, that doesn’t matter, cuz there’s the door! YAAY!!!

I walk out and into the ocean? Then the dream ends and I am laying in my bed, trying to figure out what the hell spawned that dream...