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Never Disobey Your Subconscious

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Author's note: The following creepypasta is a true event that happened to me last night. I felt it necessary to write it out just in case you guys want something to read. The following material may be considered NSFW, so please read at your own will.

My Room, 1:36 AM

I’m walking around my room in circles, unable to sleep; just awaiting the moment in which 3:00 AM strikes and I will begin pacing around the kitchen, a compulsive habit. Something else happens, something unknown, but wonderful: I, for some unknown reason begin fantasizing about my crush, Hannah. I talk sweetly about her to myself; I talk about how nice she is, how pretty she is, and how she stands out above the rest of the crowd. The more involved I got in my monologue, the more I lusted for her.

Her smile was literally orgasmic, I know this because one day, she smiled at me when I was staring at her, just sucking in her appearance, and I actually had an orgasm. It felt great, but I hoped no one saw me; good thing girls cannot get erections, as that would be so obvious and humiliating. She is a magical being, an angel if you will. Ah… So innocent, so gentle, so classy, and so perfect.

As I was talking to myself about her, I became so involved in my conversation that the blissful feeling drowned out the fact that my legs were tiring. I started talking dirty about us together, how much I would love to dominate her, I felt more and more aroused by this that I was ready to release. In that moment, I actually visibly and audibly hallucinated her in the room with me, and I’ve never had such a real hallucination before.

I was obsessing so much, that all of my worries left me. That on its own is pure bliss, as I’ve always felt the need to see if things were done and done correctly; I felt nothing but warmth, and bliss, a feeling so pure, that you wish you could experience it every day. Oh God, I need her, I require her. I want to make her feel special; I want to make her feel good without seeming like a creep.

However, since school is out, and I have no way of contacting her other than face to face, it’s going to be a long summer. Don’t worry, my sweetheart, you’re going to be mine; I’ll win your heart.

My Room, 2:57 AM

It’s almost 3:00, but I feel so good, so very good that I don’t want to pace around the kitchen. Just imagining Hannah giving me a sweet backrub kept me tranquil; my eyes were beginning to shut, her sweet-nothings made me smile, something I haven’t truly done in months. My fears of failure, disorderly places, germs, and death were all flying away like helium balloons; it left me with nothing but pure happiness and tranquility.

I felt like I was shifting personality; going from the intense, worried, and sad wreck to the gentle, carefree and joyful whole-being. I didn’t just lust over her. I love her because I’ve observed her interactions with myself and other people; whenever she catches me staring at her with my natural and seemingly intense glare that others find intimidating, she smiles that gorgeous, irresistible smile. She talks to other people like they’re family, even if her friends are not in my best interests, as they are of the gossipy type, however, she is the only good apple in the basket, and that’s why I love her.

I could talk about her all day, every day if I wanted to. I lust for that beautiful girl, but I love that nice girl. Guess what? They’re the same person. I loathe it when people slap stereotypes on people; it makes me angry to think that people say I cannot fall in love with a girl because she’s attractive and popular. People think that must mean she’s a bitch, and that is the very last thing I’d ever think about my precious Hannah.

Although I may be talking too sweetly, I’m not looking for a cheese-ball relationship. Nobody but she and I have to know I love her, and I’m not going to talk about her like she’s my only source of joy, because you cannot neglect family. And even if I obsess over her, I’m not going to force a relationship on her, for I cannot force a potentially heterosexual girl to fall for me. I do not fear rejection; I will be completely satisfied if she just knew how I felt about her.

My eyes are getting heavy, I can see that it is indeed past 3:00, but I’m too sleepy and relaxed to do any pacing; it’s good to break a bad habit.

My Room, 3:24 AM

Holy shit, what the hell just happened? I’m terrified, completely and utterly terrified. I was just about to fall into a deep sleep and I just had the most horrible vision ever. It felt so real, like I was actually there. I envisioned myself in a strange room I’ve never seen before, but one looking like it belonged inside your average home; there was a deeply saturated, orange colour to the room, as if we were in the most colourful sunset ever. I saw my father in the room with me, and then a shorter figure limped into view; it was my grandmother.

I couldn’t help but ask her if she was alright due to her obvious struggle to walk properly, and she replied in the most raspy, perverted version of her voice I have ever heard in my life; “I’m on my deathbed,” is all she said to me before breaking into a coughing fit, me and dad trying to assist her.

I woke up in a cold sweat, questioning everything. That’s it, it’s time to go to the kitchen; I need to clear my head completely.

The Kitchen, 3:32 AM

I’m bawling my eyes out like a pathetic brat; I cannot hold back the tears, I just hope no one hears me at this hour. I just want to know why I suddenly envisioned that; that horrible vision. I was almost tempted to text my father to check up on her (I’m at my mother’s house, and my father is living with my grandma until he can find and afford a house for us.), but I knew very well how he’d react, probably tell me to get some sleep for what he would see as a simple nightmare.

What baffles me is how my mind snapped back to being that wreck I described earlier. How is it that I can go from pure bliss and security holding my dear Hannah in bed to dreadful, pre-traumatic stress about my grandmother? I’m never going to disobey my subconscious again. If it wants to pace, I will bloody-well pace in that same circle around my kitchen. All it asks is fifteen minutes of doing so, and I shouldn’t have ignored it.

Pace fifteen minutes away, and it will keep your disturbing thoughts at bay…

Your subconscious can be a beautiful and ugly thing; it can fill you to the brim with ecstasy, but can also fill you to the brim with horror. No matter what you do, do not disobey your subconscious and what it wants, even if it seems like the most irrational thing, such as needing to lock the door seven times over, or pacing around your kitchen for fifteen minutes. I want you, the reader to revise on everything you’ve done that you feel is irrational, but just needed to be done, and if it isn’t done or done correctly, you’re going to lament it later with the negative emotions you feel.

That is your subconscious speaking to you, trying to warn you what bad things will happen if you don’t obey it. It’s like preparing for an apocalypse years beforehand, it seems completely crazy, but if you don’t stock up, you won’t survive.

My Room, 3:47 AM

I’m sitting on my bed, frozen with fear. I know it seems ridiculous, but I texted my brother about how scared I am feeling. He replied, telling me to go wake up mom; I was reluctant at first, but I knew if I didn’t solve this problem, the miasma of fear and misery that was my mind would worsen. I went into mom’s room, lightly rubbing her arm hard enough so she would know I was here. I told her how terrified I was, but I never told her what I was terrified about; she walked me back to my bed and climbed in with me. She kept on telling me to relax and breathe circularly.

I eventually fell asleep, but I was holding her like she was my only source of safety. I kept on crying, feeling nothing but worry.

My Room, 5:26 AM

I just woke up; mom wasn’t in the bed anymore, but I was ready to get up anyways. My body was like Jell-O when I started walking to the kitchen to make my coffee, it was hard to see, my lips were dry, and I still felt the dry tears on my face. Disgusting, I’m also covered in mucus from my incessant sniffling.

I’ve calmed down, but still don’t want to experience the disgusting fantasy again. I told my mother exactly what I saw, and she just reassured me that grandma was in perfect health. As she left for work with her boyfriend, she kissed me goodbye and told me to lock the door behind her.

I locked it… seven times over… I love you, mom.

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