annoyatron: crickets and tumbleweed

7 Things #1: What is the best lie you ever told?

Not being able to pick that one perfect lie must be a sure sign that you have told too many lies. Something tells me that this topic opens up a gaping hole that I will just keep digging deeper into as I go along. Nevertheless I am here to entertain You; my audience of untold, thronging masses. Just like the Plebs of Ancient Rome you thirst for blood and wait for the free food to be brought in. In all likelihood none of you will ever finish reading this because you will see the size of this post and merely chalk it up to another case of TL;DR.

“The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.”
— Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

When I was young I used to have recurring nightmares about a wolf. This hulking beast was fetched from the wildest imaginings of a young child. His ferocious snarl could shake the snow clean off of a pine tree. His eyes were dark pools of evil that consumed the light around them. His step silent, yet filled with purpose and deadly force. His jaws made to break bones.

I could be a small gnome laboring through the snow during midwinter; I could be playing in the woods with my friends during summer. In the beginning my dreamscapes would be languid, peaceful, and safe.

No matter how my dreams started out, they always ended the same way. I could sense the wolf there. Stalking me silently from afar. I knew I had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He would find me and he would tear me apart. My dream ended the same way every night. The instant before his fangs broke my skin I broke through my dream into wakefulness.

Then one night I found courage in my dream. I faced the wolf. I killed him. I watched with awe and mingled sadness and fear as his glossy coat was drowned out by dark, glistening blood.

I told myself that I had slain the wolf. I convinced myself he was long gone and in a place where he could never hunt me again.

That my friends, is the greatest lie I ever told.