What to Do When You Meet Cthulhu

by Rachel Gray

  —H.P. Lovecraft, “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath”

  Dreams are an essential facet of the Mythos. Not only did many of Lovecraft’s stories originate from his dreams (or nightmares), but he returned to the subject of dreaming repeatedly. Dreams, hallucinations, even drug-induced stupors, can lead to divine insight and artistic illumination in the Cthulhu Mythos (and so claim many Romantic writers from the 18th century).

  In some of his writings, Lovecraft brought to life a strange, alternate dimension known as the Dreamlands—a reality existing on top of our own. The Dreamlands are resplendent with magical vistas, mysterious inhabitants, and dangerous creatures—some of which can travel to the waking realm. As your Mythos knowledge grows, you will learn how to harness the tamer creatures—and avoid the rest.

  THE CRAWLING CHAOS

  Often, in the Cthulhu Mythos, drugs are utilized to harness the power of dreams—or hallucinations. Sometimes, such power is discovered inadvertently. For example, in the story, “The Crawling Chaos,” a plague patient, receiving an accidental overdose of opium to treat his symptoms, learns that the drug helped to ease his headache, but also induced frightening visions. This begs the question: Is the treatment worth the cost of the side effects?

  During his overdose, the patient found himself inside an elaborate room—decorated with fancy vases, ottomans, and the like. While he rather liked the fancy surroundings, an incessant pounding in the background disturbed him dreadfully.

  The patient searched for the source of the noise. He checked the window, and noticed a tumultuous storm brewing. Seething waves lurched forward from the angry sea in the vista before him. And each surge threatened to submerge the house entirely. Completely spooked by what he saw, he ran for it, heading inland, eventually finding a safe spot underneath a palm tree where he rested.

  He didn’t get much rest because a young child promptly dropped from the tree, and floated toward him. Solemnly, the child explained what the waves were about—the world was coming to an end. But no worries, the boy, along with two more floating godlike friends, would gladly escort the man to the blissful land of Teloe, and there he would dwell happily ever after.

  On the surface, the decision was easy. But that’s the trick of the Mythos—things always seem simple and evident, until you get involved in them. But having no close friends to scout the way, and having not read this book, the man floated upward with the child-like entities. As they climbed, the crowd increased, until eventually it was a total party—people dancing about, singing, and playing lutes. loating ever upward, the patient realized this Teloe place must be pretty darn cool. And all he had to do, the child whispered in his ear, was keep looking forward, and never look back down, at Earth (obviously this was a sinister child-like thing). To no one’s surprise (including you and me), the patient looked.

  Below, he saw the surface of Earth being consumed by monstrous waves. Eventually, a great rift opened across the flooded planet, swallowing the water and spitting it out as steam. The rift widened, and with much cracking and hissing, the planet finally exploded in a fiery blast. This was enough to wake the patient (tells you a little about him—child-like entities partying isn’t disturbing, but a good planet crunch is worrisome).

  Of course, it’s possible the patient simply experienced the results of an opium overdose—but then no one would be writing about it. It’s also possible he witnessed the destruction of the entire world. Either way, a lesson can be learned from the patient’s experience (who obviously spent the rest of his days kicking himself over the whole “don’t look back” mistake).

  Umm, here is where the “lesson learned” should go. But as this tale was akin to Lovecraft’s Dreamland stories, it’s a bit open ended. You see, Lovecraft did admire the writers of the Romantic Period, and they bought into the power of imagination and the sublime (remember the sublime?). And a number of Romantic writers dabbled in the supernatural, and drugs, or recounted dreams, occasionally leaving their works open to reader interpretation. That’s to say, it’s best to let the reader’s imagination explore and find its own meaning. What this means to you the reader is that while a “lesson” can be offered for the previous story, it would be one person’s interpretation. In the end, the best “lesson” comes from the reader—assuming the reader can come up with a lesson. If one is needed in a pinch, try the used, but proven, “don’t look back” lesson. Honestly, the man was told not to do it, but he just couldn’t resist temptation. Now most everyone has read that type of story before. But no one seems to learn.

  WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU HAVE

  APOCALYPTIC VISIONS

  Consider cutting back on the opium. Maybe it doesn’t help, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

  If you do take opium, and find yourself being guided to a paradise in the sky named Teloe, and are told not to look back, don’t look back. It’s pretty simple.

  Keep a record of how often apocalyptic visions occur. For the most part, everyone agrees as the level of danger increases, so does the frequency of the visions. If the number is low, keep gathering friends. If the number is high, start brainstorming a means of escape—this varies depending on the content of the visions you’re having.

  Consider taking a few classes in literature. At first blush, this might seem pointless. But closer inspection reveals that most apocalyptic visions are laden with heavy metaphors. Learning how to interpret these elusive metaphors can mean the difference between living and dying. In other words, yes, an English class can save your life, and the lives of others.

  Just how apocalyptic is the vision? Consider it carefully. If the destruction and horror seems isolated to a particular part of the globe, then maybe just avoid that area. While most people view these horrifying visions as the “end of the world,” this isn’t always the case. Sometimes it’s just the end of a specific place—take Atlantis for example. Sure, it was apocalyptic for the denizens of Atlantis, but it didn’t bother most other people.

  If you’re not using drugs or alcohol while having apocalyptic visions, maybe consider adding them into the mix. See what comes up. If things get better, then maybe the issue was stress related. If things get worse, then cut back on the booze and dope. Regardless, this is not a long term solution. It is more of a means of determining the type of visions you’re having.

  Are there zombies or masses of undead in your visions? If so, then it’s most likely not related to the Cthulhu Mythos. Horrific, all-powerful creatures are the foundation of a Mythos apocalyptic vision, as is the prompt and concise destruction of the world. Aimless, wandering dead is an entirely different book.

  This may sound silly, but are the dreams yours? Before taking any action, make sure you don’t have a revengeful former friend (who survived) using his pineal gland to induce nightmares into your otherwise peaceful sleep. The easiest way to uncover this one is to change your sleep schedule, but don’t let anyone know.

  Have you read a Mythos book recently? The Necronomicon is one that pops to the top of the list, but any of the other tomes mentioned in this book are likely candidates. If you have read one of these, the good news is the world is probably not coming to an end . . . yet. The bad news is you’re insane from reading one of those tomes.

  Examine your diet. While it might not be apocalyptic, it still could be unhealthy. And eating before sleeping, or consuming foods which disagree with you—or produce allergic affects—can result in apocalyptic visions. Actually, in a wide variety of visions. But given the fact you’re reading this book, most likely the visions will be of the end of the world. Maybe a simple allergy test can resolve the entire “end of time” visions, and you’ll be all the healthier for it.

  HOW DID THAT DREAM MAKE YOU FEEL?

  Perhaps you’re already experiencing unusual dreams (even before embarking upon your studies of the Cthulhu Mythos). If you are, tread carefully when it comes to having them analyzed. Take the case of Joe Slater, an institution asylum inmate from the Catskills, whose case was documented in �
��Beyond the Wall of Sleep.”

  Slater had always been a little odd, but one day he suffered a screaming, shrieking fit, after waking from a dream. His neighbors made the mistake of attempting to restrain him. This left several neighbors with bumps and bruises.

  Being generous, the neighbors decided not to complain, especially after they saw what happened to the other guy. Or at least the pulpy mess that once had been the “other guy.” It seems, in a fit of delirium, Slater pulverized one of the neighbors, which did earn him a quick trip to the sanitarium.

  After spending some time institutionalized, one of the interns developed a special interest in Slater. The intern was intrigued when Slater suffered a series of bizarre attacks. During the fits, Slater rambled about fantastic, gorgeous vistas, straight out of a fantasy novel. This struck the intern as odd, since Slater was a seriously backwoods kind of guy, with little exposure to supernatural fiction (or any fiction for that matter).

  But despite the awe-inspiring vistas of Slater’s dreams, the wretched man spent most of his time during the attacks ranting about a malevolent being. The malign entity held Slater in contempt, mocking and tormenting him. Slater swore revenge against the creature, proclaiming he’d find and destroy it, even if he had to venture across the chasm of space to do so. If anything, Slater clearly had ambition.

  LET ME JUST ATTACH THIS WIRE HERE . . .

  With each passing day, Slater’s health declined, and he grew feebler. The intern decided to reconstruct a “cosmic radio” device he invented in college (what luck!)—hoping to telepathically get inside Slater’s addled brain.

  He connected the device to Slater’s head, and to his own. Nothing happened. As most people are wont to do when an uncomfortable telepathic head-rig is attached, the intern became bored and drifted into slumber. Then things became exciting. He found himself inside Slater’s fantasy dream-land, and it was even cooler than Slater had described. Great, shadowy mountains and valleys. Haunting music. And an ethereal light-being, who dropped by to have a chat with the intern.

  The light-being explained he was Joe Slater’s “other” self—the cosmic version of Slater’s planet-bound soul. Unlike planet versions, cosmic souls transcend time—a light-being is just as likely to end up in the mind of an Egyptian pharaoh, as in a bumbling idiot such as Joe Slater.

  MYTHOS SURVIVAL TIP:

  YOU WON’T BELIEVE ME, BUT . . .

  So, you experienced something. A supernatural event, or Mythos experience that should have left you gibbering like a mad person. Maybe it did, for awhile. Regardless, the event has left you marred for life, and shaken, but with no substantive evidence—not even a prize like: I Just Saw Nyarlathotep and All I Got Was This Crazy T-Shirt tee.

  After you’ve weighed all sides and ruled out whether you really are crazy, you’ll probably start thinking about telling someone. Anyone. Your parents. Your teacher. Your best friend.

  Don’t. Telling people you trust inevitably leads them to the conclusion that you’ve gone insane. Sure, it seems odd. After all, where did the “trust” go? Sadly, that’s just the way things are. People you trust believe you are crazy if you reveal crazy-sounding things. Drunks and strangers are more apt to believe you, by the way.

  So instead of blathering about the weirdness going on inside your head, sit back, relax. Keep your mouth shut. Take your time, and try to gather proof to support your mad tale. If you’re never able to do so, no worries—when your best friend is eaten by the tentacled, winged creature you’ve been dreaming about every night, you’ll find it to be much easier to run away when you’re not inside the sanitarium. And you’ll know, just before your friend died, that he or she truly understood what it was that was bothering you—but which you wouldn’t reveal.

  So the light-being was feeling like he’d been short changed, due to his forty-two years of “Joe” time. With Slater’s death, the light-being could escape for awhile and get down to business. Particularly the business of slaying his tormenting, mocking, long-time foe, which dwelled near the star of Algol (light-beings lead a confusing life it seems). And, finally finding his freedom through Slater’s death, the light-being sped away, traveling across the stars, to slay his enemy—leaving poor Slater as the first casualty of the event.

  Of course, when fellow hospital employees found the intern, snoring and drooling, on top of dead Joe Slater, the intern couldn’t tell them anything. These were trusted friends, and the intern understood the risk of telling them such a crazy story—he did work in a sanitarium. But the intern did take a small amount of comfort, at least, upon hearing of the new star discovered not far from Algol—it blazed brightly in the night sky for a few weeks before fading away.

  THE DREAMLANDS

  One of the more unique realms of the Cthulhu Mythos is the Dreamlands. It resides in a dimension beyond this one. You can’t book a flight there, or travel by rail. For the most part, dreams are about the only means of access. Or if you’re really good at it, willpower alone can transport you there.

  Initially, the concept of the Dreamlands is tough to wrestle with. The best way to think of it is as a reality superimposed over our own—complete with its own geography, and its own moon. As you might guess from the name, the place is pretty dreamy. And sometimes nightmarish.

  With all of that said, according to Lovecraft’s writings, there are a few ways to sneak into the Dreamlands. Some people, like Randolph Carter, easily cross into the Dreamlands during slumber. Others utilize drugs to reach the appropriate level of unconsciousness (not to mention a wicked buzz—but this maybe still counts as a dream of sorts). Other folk claim to be able to visit the Dreamlands through a more direct physical means.

  As might be expected, there are many things that are different in the Dreamlands. For instance, time passes differently there as opposed to the waking world—a six month trip around the ocean may occur in a single night’s of slumber in our dimension.

  Of course, none of this actually describes what the Dreamlands are. One approach is to say the Dreamlands is a place of light and dark fantasy—perhaps more dark. A land where great kingdoms vie for dominance over one another. In the Dreamlands, men and creatures launch wars against each other. This might sound like a dangerous place to visit, and it can be for the unwary traveler, or if you step on the tail of a cat.

  AN ORDER OF TERROR WITH A SIDE OF DOOM

  One of the greatest cities of the Dreamlands exists now only legend. This place was dubbed Sarnath, and in Lovecraft’s tale “The Doom that Came to Sarnath,” its history is revealed.

  It was some ten thousand years ago, when the city of Ib overlooked a vast lake, in the land of Mnar. The sagging, lizard-like residents of Ib were beings that were soft like jelly, with bulging eyes and big, floppy mouths. They lived contently until one day, a group of tribesmen arrived upon the lake, and built the city of Sarnath. These new tribesmen distrusted the strange, lizard-like inhabitants of Ib, and frowned upon their worship of the water-lizard Bokrug.

  Deciding to protect themselves against a possible future threat (proactive defense), the warriors of Sarnath promptly marched to Ib and killed every denizen within the city. The invaders also sacked the place and razed it for good measure. The only remnant of Ib remaining was a sea-green stone idol, chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, which the warriors brought back to their temple in Sarnath. Some things are too good to destroy, even if they should be destroyed.

  And then things started to go wrong. The next morning, the high priest, Taran-Ish, was found dead in the temple. Apparently he’d died of fright. And to make things worse, the sea-green idol was missing.

  But there was a clue. Scrawled shakily upon the altar, probably the handwriting of Taran-Ish, was a single word: “DOOM.” No matter how you spell it, the word wasn’t a good omen.

  NICE PLACE TO VISIT, BUT . . .

  But even a bad omen can’t keep a city from flourishing. Sarnath established trade routes with nearby cities. Its warriors conquered neighboring territories in
Mnar, and eventually Sarnath’s control spread over the land.

  For those visiting the great city of Sarnath, it was a sight to behold. It sported huge walls of polished marble, streets of onyx, and its palaces and gardens were legendary.

  To make sure no irony was lost when the promised “doom” arrived, the residents of Sarnath celebrated every year with a festival dedicated to the destruction of the city Ib. Given that the battle was a lopsided victory, and the attack was predicated on nothing other than Sarnath’s prejudice against Ib’s jelly-bellied residents, the celebration might have seemed unusal to outsiders (but they didn’t understand the need for dramatic irony in Sarnath). Undaunted, the townspeople of Sarnath held a feast, danced, and sang—all in celebration of the destruction of non-threatening Ib. Things were shaping up to be grand.

  The best traditions are those which span centuries, and this was a spectacular tradition—it lasted nearly one thousand years. And as the big one thousand year party approached, the inhabitants of Sarnath decided to crank up the energy, and host the largest gala ever. This grandest of grand events was ten years in the planning, and Sarnath residents were certain the party would be the talk of all the land. The party to end all parties. After all, no one partied like the people of Sarnath.

  With all of the excitement of the party, no one noticed the strange, green mist settling over the city. Or the weird lights upon the rapidly rising water. Given these are the sort of things that are difficult to ignore for long, eventually some folk did take notice. This transformed into a vague fear which spread throughout the city. The out-of-towners, mostly royalty from distant lands, decided not to stick around, heading out to find less misty venues. Most likely, they’d learned about dramatic irony from their scholars and saw the writing on the wall—so to speak.