I suppose you’re hoping for some sort of creepypasta. Y’know, ‘Then who was phone?!’ shit. Go elsewhere. This isn’t some damn story about something that happened to some kid you knew back before you moved or your dead grandma’s even deader aunt. This isn’t past-tense. This isn’t some random schmuck out there in the world known through a friend of a friend.
This is me. This is happening now.
Hi. They used to call me Cast.
I have dreams. Odd dreams. Dreams that have been happening for… geez, like ten years now? Eleven? I don’t remember. Long time. They’ve changed in the last few years. Not recurring dreams. Nothing symbolic or premonition-y. Flat out weird shit. Stuff that when I wake up, I forget for a moment where exactly I should be. Y’know. Which place is real? Who cares. Save that for a different thread. This is about the tangible. Not the theoretical.

S’pose that’s easy for me to say. It’s all tangible over here when I go to bed. I’ve been to the rainy city over and over. I’ve walked down the street between the buildings that look like some pastoral alpine town, but made of rusting metal. I’ve walked across the old bridge that spans over an empty river, though the cold fucking rain has yet to cease for even a minute. Past there, that’s the graveyard. You can’t read them, so don’t try. You don’t want to stay there too long, ‘cuz you can die. I’ll get into that later.
Beyond that is the Bore. The giant hole in the ground that looks like someone tried to put a screw the size of a parking lot into the earth. Something’s down there. Might be their leader.