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Le Petit Plongeon

by Hoaram 8 months ago in supernatural
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Aka the little loon - Pierre Teuxpont discovers the true nature of his horrific vision and the definition of Déjà rêvé, after being lured into the bowels of the earth itself by a mysterious and perfidious force during a lone canoe voyage.


I inhaled sharply precisely as my eyes shot open. It was early, very early, evident by the chirping of the birds and the faint yawns of the sun just peeking over the clouds, slowly and faintly lighting the world to the beginning of another day. Despite the easiness of the morning outside, I’m finding great difficulty in describing the feelings that this dream caused me. The dream journal next to me wasn’t something I normally scribbled in, but what I had experienced only a few moments ago necessitated a penning.

“What I feel upon waking from that tortuous dream has no resounding or primary emotion that I can dictate or label a descriptor of the dream, or even how to convey the horrible knowledge that had been thrust upon me in such a phantastic and dramatic way. What I feel isn’t so much and so easy to describe as a simple black-and-white phenomenon as “dream” or “nightmare”, rather the words to depict what I feel and felt simply don’t exist, both the sharp and rapid lung pains inside the dream, and the dream itself. I only remember two circular red windows, and gasping for air.”

Nevertheless I must proceed with the day as if such an experience never happened.”

August 14th, 2016, Dream journal of Pierre Teuxpont.


The trees around me and the waters below me are both scented and textured beautifully, the birds and bugs fly quickly to and fro in different directions from each other, and the temperature around me, plus the humidity and wind has been nothing short of perfect the entire two months of this three month vacation. I thought to myself as I canoed back to my cabin lodgings in beautiful Northern Ontario.

The passing islands both large and small are always impressive when canoeing: Majestic, inspiring, scant, craggy; every island has a different word to describe it - but the one word that bonds them all is fragile. Some of these islands are only feet across, others dozens of feet, but if the waters rise any more both my cabin and all of these islands will be underwater for good. My worrying thoughts about the future of my property consumed me beyond all else the remainder of the canoe voyage to the cabin.

Finally, I arrived and unshouldered the rather spartan duffle I packed for this specific trip away from the prying eyes and irksome souls of the other campers I travelled with the last two months. The duffle I packed only contains: two pairs of socks, two shirts, two pairs of underwear, a pocket knife, a water bottle, and my cell phone in case I get irreparable lost and absolutely must communicate with someone. Double checking the goods in the bag, I left it on the floor by the door and prepared a light snack from the supplies left at the cabin from the previous person who had visited this place, it’s a tradition among cabin visitors here. They had left a sealed jar of peanuts and some dried sausage, both items were good for the next year or two at least and both items tasted good together in a bowled ensemble.

I rested on the small couch in the cabin for an hour, got up and proceeded out the door towards my canoe and - strange...the canoe I had was moved...no, the water has risen!

I darted back inside and grabbed my bag, got into my canoe and began paddling toward my ultimate destination beyond Plongeon Lake.

As I paddled a quarter of the distance of the small lake everything seemed unusual...eerie and quiet. The birds no longer chirped and flew, the bugs remained stagnant, and the water rough and choppy. Nevertheless I kept paddling.

Upon reaching the middle of the lake I understood completely why nature had changed and remained silent. To my right, a tremendous piece around the perimeter of the lake in the opposite direction of the cabin had somehow seemingly, impossibly but otherwise unexplainably had slipped into the lake, revealing a massive island underneath the one that had disappeared into the lake! The risen waters make sense as well, seeing as to the massive displacement power of the sunken section which I still cannot comprehend how or where it had disappeared. I continued to paddle across the lake toward the old split island, and the new strange land that had emerged from underneath the earth.

Paddling toward the spiritually pulling and enchanting island, the sun had poked it’s rays through one of the clouds that had unknowingly filled the sky as I sat in my canoe aghast at what had happened. The lone shining ray of sunshine beamed closer and closer to the new island until it had seemingly through divine order pierced a small area of the new island precisely at the sun’s noon zenith; A red and ruby beam of light shot out from inside the new island shooting into the sky at a 40 degree angle compared to the sun shooting down directly above.

Seduced and enchanted by the beam of convalescent red light, I paddled toward it.

I reached the island in under 6 minutes of paddling and what I saw absolutely astonished me. A relatively small but violent waterfall cascaded me toward and into the middle of the split island into the divine presence of the new island, the red light beaming out from the opening overtop of the waterfall, created by the missing land.

The waterfall didn’t flip my canoe upon riding it, rather it felt as if the waterfall had no pull at all beyond a spiritual one. As I reached the bottom of the sharp waterfall and the momentum pushed me forward, I reached what was evidently the cause of the red light beam. Sat on the perfectly maintained grass of the island, buried up to half the height of its neck with only half the neck, the head, and beak exposed lay a perfectly painted rock tomb of a common adult loon, with it’s summer plumage. The sun piercing a minute hole in the top of the bird's head, causing a red beam to shoot out from the eyes of the water fowl, only one being visible to the non-divine world outside as only part of the previous island disappeared into the lake and not the entirety.

I sat fascinated by what I saw in front of me until the canoe brushed up onto the shore of the perfectly maintained grass, I quickly scrambled out of my canoe and planted myself on the grass, taking my pocket knife and cell phone with me. The grass was impossibly soft and smooth, as if the grass was made to comfort the soles of weary travelers. Approaching the head of the bird, the bellowing of nature had resumed it’s call; the birds chirped and flew across the broken opening of the island and the mating calls and hoots of loons could be heard softly in the distance, as if in unison calling to the same mate or mother.

As I reached the head of the sacred loon walking down the small trail on the island, the path rose into the open beak of the creature, only some of the beak was open I should mention actually - and with the utmost nauseatingly cold shock I looked into the peak of the loon and cut out on the tip of the beak, with the path going directly into it was a cut silhouette in the rock used to make the creature...a cut silhouette of a man of my EXACT figure at the EXACT moment I found this rock bird, this deity, this...thing. I turned around and looked to the lake inside this new island that my canoe rested on, and where this loon resided;

The various islands and birds and wildlife we saw before was not the hidden treasure of “Loon Lake” both the old Native Canadian legends spoke of and the tourist agency bolstered up...THIS was the true Plongeon lake, where this little loon lay.

I swallowed (shockingly) what little fear I actually felt in the moment of hesitation looking into my sculpted silhouette, and walked into it - my clothes brushed against the hole and stopped me from entering by only centimeters. To proceed into what I see, what I feel, what’s enticing me, I had to remove my clothes, and remove them I did. Surprisingly I had enough space in my hands to take my cell in hand and my knife in the other...as if whoever it was who made this thing thousands or millions of years ago anticipated I would have these exact items at this exact time with these exact measurements. Into the red lighting of the mouth I entered, never to look back.


The head of the loon contained only red light from the eyes, the sun beaming into the top was not visible whatsoever. The eyes themselves were perfectly cut and carved ruby stones resembling the eyes of a common loon with scientific precision. Walking toward the back of the head of the stone creature I peered down into what would be the neck of the creature from the outside, from the inside lay only a dark stone tube of immeasurable depth. I got on my stomach and felt down the tunnel to see how sharp the decline was, it was a straight and vertical drop down but this time I felt no fear, no hesitation, no sense of consequence for what could lie before me...I know it’s my destiny, I feel the pulling of my entire internal soul running towards the inside of this creature! Without another thought I jumped down the stone tunnel of the creature.

What I landed in could only be called ancient sod, wet and dank, foul but green plant mixture that had inevitably mixed with water recently at some point, which was overwhelmingly strange as the only entranced that emerged from the stone creature was the mouth evident from the slight breeze that compelled my body to enter, no drafts I feel enter from anywhere else inside this stone deity. The fall from above could only have been 10 to 12 feet down but seemed not nearly as much. I pushed myself off from the green cushion of earth that softened my landing. I fell perhaps another 6 feet onto the luxurious and downy shortly maintained grass that laid around the perimeter of the island the breathing portion of the creature was entitled to. I turned on the flashlight of my cell phone and suddenly something snapped inside of me seeing my surroundings illuminated and what I felt was not destiny, was not a calling...it was the horrific and unplaceable knowledge that what I’m experiencing in this sudden revelation on seeing my surroundings….is déjà rêvé.

Around me in what would amount to the belly of the beast covering the entire perimeter of the belly were stone sarcophagi, enthroning men of my exact figure and proportions over what would have to amount to thousands of years and various cultures and races of differing men. Looking into the horrified eyes of these stone statues I knew at once I was nothing but the newest human incarnation of the spirit that lies inside this body. Is this my destiny for all time? Not for me I thought.

Upon the exact moment of planning my escape the statues slowly closed in on me, very quickly creating a ring of stone men with horrifically opened eyes surrounding me from whatever escape I had. They slowly and slowly brushed against the grass, I backed away slowly to buy any sort of time I could possibly get from the universe in my favour, but as I backed up, a sinkhole of basalt, concrete or liquid stone opened up from the grass under the middle of the slowly closing circle. I screamed in panic! The only returns from what I previously saw as divine surrounded my ears in the most charnel and ironic way possible...the only return from nature I had to my human screams were the hoots and mating calls of loons.

My horrific panic slowly turned to depressed acceptance for my destiny of condemnation. That dream was both a vision and my destiny. Déjà rêvé with a pall of destiny thrown in. The stone coffin portal touched my toes and soon licked my ankles. I know now the pains I felt in that dream-vision nine years ago, I know what those pains were, I thought to myself as the asphalt reached my waist. I know now what the horrific stabbing in my lungs at that moment was, I thought as the liquid stone reached my shoulders. I can describe what the pain was in retrospect now that I know my true and unalterable destiny for all time will be as I look into the stone visages of what I know to be all my male ancestors. I know that pain is the stone solidifying in my lungs and squeezing the life out of my body lungs first, I thought to myself as the concrete entered my mouth and shot into my lungs.


The night inside the family home was pleasant at the moment, the mother and father of the lone child sitting on the couch watching their favourite show, cuddling and drinking a glass of wine each. The man’s cell phone rings, sighing, he answers the call of his mother dear, old and frail. After a short conversation and at the ending of the call, the woman asks “Is everything okay?”

The male responded. “My father disappeared, he went out alone during the last month of his trip. They never recovered the body. She didn’t want to tell me until it was absolute.”

“I’m so sorry” The woman said back and hugged him. “We’re here for you” She motioned towards the door of their seven year old child, Oliver.

As soon as she motioned to Oliver’s door, it flew open, the child hysterical and crying.

Wailing, the child cried, “I had that dream again mommy, where my chest hurts and I hear yelling and the grey people are looking down on me!”


About the author


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