char *(null)="
attacked2.story
attacked2.story
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca (Nathan Burgoine)
Subject: Another Attack
Date: Mon, 7 Nov 1994 14:41:05 GMT
Hi everybody.
First off, I think what happened this past week or so pointed
something out to me.
In a four day sequence, this is what happened.
Day One - I get a phone-call and find out that my father is
going to have his leg amputated for a cancer that is suddenly
spreading like wild-fire. My father and I have _never_ been close,
and it doesn't affect me very much, just a little, until my mother
calls, in tears, and then my sister calls, in tears, one tells me to
be strong and not show emotion to my father and the other tells me to
make sure my father realizes I'm upset. (breath.)
That night, I have incredibly vivid dream I'm at a funeral,
with friends, and R.E.B. walks over and attacks me. The woman I see
often in my dreams walks up, and she's merrily chanting an old nursery
rhyme I knew as a kid while R.E.B. pounds the snot out of me.
Day Two - woke up with bruises all over my stomach (looked
like a canadian sunrise), bags under my eyes, and an exam to take
later on in the day. Phone rings, I cringe.
Find out another friend in B.C. killed himself (yes, out of
the orignal group of 7, there are 3 of us left, one of which is
missing and presumed run-away or dead.) Spent hour and twenty minutes
on phone with Shannon, telling her everything was okay (HA!), and then
my back burns. I check in mirror before my exam - scratches.
Write my exam (and can't remember what the last question was.)
and go home. Have lousy night, have house-guest, have another dream
of funeral, without woman or R.E.B., and this time I note that the
friends are all from one area I lived in with my family except for my
roommate.
Day Three - wake up feeling a little better, no new bruises or
anything (just the old, yellowing ones), and I figure dream isn't
about my father - people that were there wouldn't be.
Have cereal, phone rings.
Consider pulling phone out of wall.
Friend from the area I dreamed about tells me another friend's
grandmother (whom I've always called Nan, and whom my roommate met and
always calls Nan, and whom all of the friends gathered in my dream
call Nan), has been rushed to hospital with double pneumonia.
Headache sets in. Skip school. Feel sick, lie down.
Vivid flash of Christmas, sister crying.
(No idea on that one)
Decide to run bath, get in bath, get scratched to hell, get
out of bath, go for a long walk, get punched in stomach, go home, go
to sleep. By this point I was beyond caring, and I just said, "Look,
I've had it. Go away."
And it stopped. As soon as I didn't care, it seemed to stop.
(Good advice, Anne.)
The thing I noticed is that he tends to attack when I'm
"down." Someone else mentioned this earlier (can't remember who) and
I think they're right.
Other than that... I just had a bad week.
'Nathan.
P.S -> Does anyone remember who wrote that nursery rhyme that ends
with "This is the way the world ends, world ends, world ends. This is
the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper." ?
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan Burgoine "Those who agree with us may not be
Last-Chance U right, but we admire their astuteness."
-- Cullen Hightower
Email address: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca (Nathan Burgoine)
Subject: A picture
Date: Fri, 18 Nov 1994 15:47:54 GMT
Hi Gang.
Well, I had a little tiff with R.E.B. last night.
I was dreaming about him, and in the dream, which became lucid
(a rare enough event as it is), I white-lighted it and he got somewhat
upset with me.
I'm understating.
He didn't manage to hit me or anything, and then I woke up,
sure I'd just heard a really loud bang.
Three more bangs. The first was like a fist pounding the wall
beside my closet. The second was like a fist pounding my closet (and
knocked the damned thing off the little track.). The third was a fist
hitting a picture on my wall, shattering the class, knocking it
crooked and it never fell off the wall, but the frame, metal, actually
snapped/cracked in one spot.
So, sitting up rather quickly (and cutting myself in the
process), I quietly cleaned up the glass, told R.E.B. that I
understood that he was upset, but this wasn't acceptable (I REALLY
tried to be calm. I'm not sure if I managed it or if I got a good
illusion of calm going.) and went back to bed.
Sleep was a little more difficult than that.
Woke up agian in the morning, and my cut (small on the knuckle
of my left hand, centre finger) is almost healed. Go figure.
Went to school (here I am), wrote an exam (and I actually
think I did well.)
Just updating.
'Nathan.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan Burgoine "Even a stumble may prevent a fall."
Last-Chance U -- British Proverb
Email address: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca (Nathan Burgoine)
Subject: Burned
Date: Fri, 2 Dec 1994 14:20:34 GMT
Hi everyone.
First off, SORRY about losing you all for a little while.
Between the phonecalls from home, studying, essays, preparing to
present seminars and some heavy-duty headaches, I've had 0.0 time.
Lately we lost a glass pitcher, a cup, and another CD case.
(cracked, of course) and I was in the cafeteria and a tray splintered
just enough to nip me.
The one I'm worried about, actually, happened this morning on
the way to school. My roommate (and maybe I can coax her to say
hello) was driving, we were talking, and suddenly I get this burning
sensation on my finger. So I stick it in my mouth, after an
incredibly whiney "Ow!" and pull it out, fresh with new blister.
This gives me more than a little anxiety. Cuts, scrapes and
scratches are one thing, but what if now R.E.B. decides to start a few
fires? Or to just keep burning me?
I've had it. I'm fixing this now. I thought I could wait
until after Christmas, but I guess not. I'll try the first of the
methods you've all given me tonight - I'm going to forgive him... If
it takes me all night, I'm going to SOMEHOW find it in me to tell him
I'm not mad anymore. That I really don't hate him (ha.) and that all
I want is for both of us to be happy (and rot in hell... ooops. :)
Sorry, I guess that wasn't funny.)
ANyway, I'll zip to school Monday to let you know how it went.
If this doesn't work, I'm going to call in the heavy hitters.
THanx...
'Nathan
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Nathan Burgoine "Lose your dreams and you will lose your
fall." Last-Chance U mind." -- The
Beatles
Email address: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
From: nburgoin@chat.carleton.ca (Nathan Burgoine)
Subject: Near the End, I think.
Date: Tue, 3 Jan 1995 19:50:12 GMT
I think my problems with R.E.B. are nearly over, and I don't
understand one bit of it. It makes sense in an ironic sort of way - I
never understood any of this, so I guess if it comes and goes on its
own little whim, I'll be happy enough.
A day before I left I had a dream. It was one of those dreams
where the woman showed up, but I'll explain the whole thing out.
I was walking along a place I use to go a lot with Tim, and
Tim was with me. (This is my Tim friend who overdosed on Heroin and
blamed me in the suicide letter, just about the time that R.E.B. first
put it into high gear.)
We were talking about nothing, and everything seemed
completely normal. Then she shows up and she says, "Timothy."
He turns, and sighs, and looks back at me. He shrugs and he
said, "Sorry, man."
I blinked, and I was starting to become aware I was dreaming,
like I always do when the woman shows up.
Then he hugged me, and that is completely UN-Tim. He was the
most non-tactile person I've ever met. Anyway, he hugged me, said
"Love you, man, and sorry for all that sh**." This is COMPLETELY out
of character for him, but it felt like he meant it.
Now, the vividness of the dream was overwhelming. I could
even smell his Stetson, which I'd forgotten he always wore. It was
THAT realistic.
He stepped back, looked at her, and said "Now?"
She nodded, and said, "You could come back later."
Now THIS blew me away. Ms. Talk-in-riddles-only just said
something normal for the first time in forever (and it would be to
someone else, not me.) She also spoke to someone in my dream, which
is a first.
Then, she took him by the arm and led him back into the side
of a mountain, poof, gone.
I woke up so hyper and happy it was amazing. I don't really
care if that was Tim's spirit (which I'd like to believe) or just my
own inside subconscious, but he forgave me (or I forgave me,
whichever) for the suicide (even though I understand there was nothing
I did or could have done, there was still a smidgen of guilt.... okay,
more than a smidgen.)
Anyway, I went home and had a disaster of a Christmas (not
horrible, just bad in that way that can be funny later, people threw
up on turkeys and stuff.)
R.E.B. made one appearance in the past two weeks. One. That
was all. I felt him coming closer, I was still feeling good from
Christmas (It was the one day I was alone, and I feel better when I'm
alone and by a roaring fire...) so I said "Merry Christmas, bud."
Gone. No fight at all.
Then, last night, I felt him come a little closer when I was
talking to a girl in B.C. (Shannon). Shannon and I were talking, and
she said "even though a lot of bad stuff has been going on, and we
were all worried about you for no reason, things seem... good."
I think that's an exact quote.
He's not gone, don't get me wrong. I felt him last night, so
I guess he's still around. But he feels further away, and I don't
seem to care about it.
So... go nuts. Psychoanalyze, whatever, I don't care. R.E.B.
could have been attracted to the guilt I felt. Or just to my negative
emotions. Or he could have been a small part of me I managed to
animate into something else. Heck, I really could have been
possessed. But I honestly think I don't care anymore.
I haven't seen the woman in my dreams since then, and I
haven't dreamed of R.E.B. since then either. I also haven't been
scratched, poked, or otherwise hurt in anyway. Nothing has shattered,
gone missing, or broken. I still had some flashes throughout the last
two weeks (something I was worried would fade if R.E.B. did.) and
other than a rotten Christmas Dinner, everything seems great right
about now.
And I really didn't do anything... it just sort of started to happen.
'Nathan
---#STONEFREE
Brought to you by Stone Free BBS -- 606.885.1715
Fido: 1:2370/69
Sysop: Chef Groovy/FaTSacK