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Fanfare, v. 1, issue 1, December 1939

Page 4

UNREAL REALITIES by Nils H Frome
The story of an unfortunate man whose dreams caught up with him. . . .
I was afraid for his sanity when I met with Hogarth Merrill for our yearly reunion and conversation.  He, as the friend I had known, had a temper that I had never known to be frayed by circumstances or conditions; but at that time his savage and abstract manner almost brought me on the verge of suddenly bursting out and telling him what I thought of his conduct. But, coupled with my effort to rise above that bog of impending vent of anger by the help of the friendship I knew was mutuel, and the occasional disturbing gleam in his eyes that told me he realized how uncoth his conduct was; I was beginning to gain the impression that he wanted to say something that was prevented by a sense of decentcy.  He seems to be wearing out his mind -- and his eyes to keep it back.
   "Merrill," I said in a quiet tone, "we've always been the closest of friends.  Why not tell me what's wrong.  There may be something I could do to help you.  At any rate, I see-"
  "-- You see --everything.  That's nothing unusual; you always did and I'm sure your question was not promoted by an inquisitive nature.  No, there's nothing you can do -- nothing in the world; you can't go beyond this world.  But perhaps you can. . . ." he said slowly, as an afterthought.  He sighed unconciously.
   "I'll tell you," he said, then, abruptly, I'm living a nightmare life in the depth of a dream almost every night -- a realized illusion I myself have, I think, created.  In these hellish dreams I always run from the maw of a --- a beast of grizzly proportions.  It always seems to fail killing me in the dream; but it DOES fasten its teeth on my throat and suck my blood -- bu I always escape when I waken.  I-I live in mortal fear that sometime I won't escape by waking.  And always in my waking moments I feel weak....weak...."

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UNREAL REALITIES by Nils H Frome The story of an unfortunate man whose dreams caught up with him. . . . I was afraid for his sanity when I met with Hogarth Merrill for our yearly reunion and conversation. He, as the friend I had known, had a temper that I had never known to be frayed by circumstances or conditions; but at that time his savage and abstract manner almost brought me on the verge of suddenly bursting out and telling him what I thought of his conduct. But, coupled with my effort to rise above that bog of impending vent of anger by the help of the friendship I knew was mutuel, and the occasional disturbing gleam in his eyes that told me he realized how uncoth his conduct was; I was beginning to gain the impression that he wanted to say something that was prevented by a sense of decentcy. He seems to be wearing out his mind -- and his eyes to keep it back. "Merrill," I said in a quiet tone, "we've always been the closest of friends. Why not tell me what's wrong. There may be something I could do to help you. At any rate, I see-" "-- You see --everything. That's nothing unusual; you always did and I'm sure your question was not promoted by an inquisitive nature. No, there's nothing you can do -- nothing in the world; you can't go beyond this world. But perhaps you can. . . ." he said slowly, as an afterthought. He sighed unconciously. "I'll tell you," he said, then, abruptly, I'm living a nightmare life in the depth of a dream almost every night -- a realized illusion I myself have, I think, created. In these hellish dreams I always run from the maw of a --- a beast of grizzly proportions. It always seems to fail killing me in the dream; but it DOES fasten its teeth on my throat and suck my blood -- bu I always escape when I waken. I-I live in mortal fear that sometime I won't escape by waking. And always in my waking moments I feel weak....weak...."