"And in my fever-dreams I saw it - or rather, it saw me. For though it had no eyes, I was at once terribly aware of its soul-flaying omniscience, and deep in my dreams I cowered and bowed to its might. It flared its spine-choked maw and wailed a profane dirge that tore the barriers between the worlds.
"I woke I know not how much later, clutching the tattered pages of the manuscript I had written in my sleep. Horrified, I cast it from my ink-stained hands - for I recognized the writing to be the same as that which I had encountered in the silent city, all those years ago..."
- Preston Mandragora, Diaries of a Dark Thing's Host
And most cats don't take control of you pathetic mortal frame while you sleep, thereby forcing you to write a blasphemous manuscript in a language spoken only by the Dead themselves.
Rex likes to play king of the hill on me while I'm sleeping. They control my whole sleep cycle... I don't know if what I write is *blasphemous* necessarily, but it sometimes verges on rude.
That's French.
Ugh.
It must've been good.
I feel like it's more looking at me, if you know what I mean.
It's kinda like having a cat watch you while you're talking to yourself. Only, more evil. And with more teeth showing
Unless...
Rex likes to play king of the hill on me while I'm sleeping. They control my whole sleep cycle... I don't know if what I write is *blasphemous* necessarily, but it sometimes verges on rude.