I love the sound of his voice, his touch, the way he smells. I love the way he dresses, his jokes, his lopsided smile. I love the way his eyes look, in sunlight and when shadowed. I love to watch him sleep and I love love love waking him.

He wrote this:

love is the bite that steals your heart
eating you alive from the inside out
beating like a drum
beating like a drum
your voice whispers me to sleep
curled against your soft warm body
dancing in heaven
dancing in clouds
i see all beauty through your eyes
i see your beauty through mine
like a sunset caress
you are my sunrise
i was lost and then i was found
running towards nothing then into you
you are my angel
you are my princess
my heart is here for you
forever you are my love


We all have our boogeymen. I'm pretty convinced of this. It is something that consistently haunted us as kids. Many people don't remember it. Some write stories about it. Just now I read a blog that collects scary real paranormal events. and this person wrote about his thing - a 'harlequin', which is in and of itself scary as shit. It also sounds like an alien.

There are things that our philosophy or cognitive abilities simply cannot make room for. our minds, for sanity, must be fixed in a defined reality space. But not all of us are.

I am a survivor of child sexual molestation. Sex was the one consistent threat/thread for as long as I can remember. My boogeyman, the Grey Man, exuded this evil, malignant sexual thing - lechery, rape, horror, filth - it's really more than that. I was TERRIFIED of this thing, and it haunted my dreams for years.

Dreams to me are other worlds you visit. At least, that's how my mind set it up. So most of my dreams are travels, adventures, destinations. Most of the time they are extremely enjoyable, even if sometimes scary. During high hormonal stages in my life (puberty, pregnancy, pre-menopausal) I have very vivid, sexually charged and often bloody dreams. My last vivid encounter with the Grey Man was as a teen - somewhere between 14 and 17 - and it was on the 'rail' between dreamworlds. I accidently got off the 'train' in a grey world. It was frighteningly dead. Everything was grey concrete and steel. It was cold, and a miasma of 'ick' pervaded the air. And then the Grey Man appeared. He wore all grey (hence the name, right?), dark grey, with a fedora that hid his face. but you could see his eyes and they were an icy, horrifying grey. He was menacingly emaciated, but not hunched over. He wore grey gloves. and the visual and visceral impact was of a lecherous sexual desire. It scared the bejeezus out of me and I ran.

I got back on the train after hiding at the station, evading him. the next stop I saw him in the car behind and got off, ran inside. This world had sunshine and birds and bushs heavy with berries. It also had a younger guy - who's name I can't recall right now but not a real person - who realized I was scared and started to talk to me. I think the age difference was of 2 years. At some point, talk became kissing, and then kissing became sex. In the act, the grey man's face appeared at the window, emanating hate and frustration and an intent to hurt me. hurt me bad. The boy was also afraid, and we held on to whatever we were doing. Then I woke up.

The closest I came to feeling that sort of fear awake was reading a comic book - The Maxx - where a character, describing a rape, says, "He.. did ... THINGS... to me...."

Dear goddess, reading that now still puts me back in that room, looking up at the Grey Man, and KNOWING what he wanted. And that it would hurt, and that it would change me forever.

I wouldn't even buy anything grey to keep this thing from following me around. Looking back, I'm pretty sure it was a result of my unfortunate experiences that this creature came to be.

I still don't have such a strong grip on reality. I can feel it sometimes fading away from me. But, I think that I've come to terms with my sexual nature and the Grey Man isn't around. I still have fun or scary vivid dreams. I can still even have very gory dreams. I am still scared of conformity; I love living where green predominates (the city was too grey!) But there is no colorless, lecherous evil thing glaring at me from below the brim of a grey fedora, with hands encased in cold grey leather, waiting for the moment my guard is down, to destroy me.