I rarely dream.

It's dark outside, and I'm standing in a large tent with many other people. When I look around, I find that most of them are young children, between eight and twelve years old. They all wear beige uniforms with Nazi insignia. Their faces are angelic but expressionless, and their eyes are completely black. Somehow, I know that I'm in Germany, and it's April, 1943. The children take no notice of me, but are focused upon a table in the center of the tent, where the light source comes from.

Circled around the table are seven adult men wearing white surgical scrubs, and they appear to be operating on a large humanoid figure lying on the table. From what I can see, they are assembling the monsterous figure from various body parts, in a Frankenstein manner. They work hastily, but their features and actions are obscured. I can hear a large fire roaring in the background.

A moment later, I am outside the tent, standing next to a raging bonfire. The pyre is composed of thousands of books, withering in the inferno. The heat pleases me in the cold night air, but my attention is drawn away from the blaze by the motion of a large animal in my peripheral vision. When I turn to face it, I see a gigantic grey wolf - collared and chained to a concrete post. It stands at least seven feet high at the shoulder, and has dug a rut around the post from pacing at the chain's length.

It is an angry beast, and its eyes reflect the fire. It growls and leers at me, gnashing its teeth and circling the post... pulling at the chain, and kicking up dirt and stones. It drools and foams at the mouth. I am captivated by its gaze, yet it fills me with dread. Somehow, I know that this beast is immortal, and that the Nazis have spent a great deal of trouble capturing it to study. I sense that there are others like it in the woods nearby, and they are aware of the beast's captivity. And they are angry.

I'm not sure how, but in my dreams I know things. I have a vision, and I know things about it without being told. At this point in the dream, I have flashes of the beast's capture, and of the soldiers who died trying to subdue it. I see the horror that the beast wrought upon the nearby villages, slaying cattle and dogs, and the farmers and their families who fought it as well. It and its kind have preyed upon the locals for ages, and the efficiency of the Nazi killing machine has finally taken one down long enough to tie it up. The brownshirts' machine guns filled the beast with bullets before it finally dropped, but they could not kill it. They haven't figured out how.

I flash forward to the moment again, and I'm aware of marching troops in the distance. I turn to the fire, and see dozens of elderly women in drab grey dresses and kerchiefs throwing volumes of literature into the blaze. Most of them are German-language texts, both of fiction and non-fiction, but some are written in Spanish, Russian, Greek. One woman, dressed entirely in bright red, tosses stacks of Bibles into the fire. Her face is totally obscured with a red scarf. I hear random gunfire from far off, and fighter planes buzz past overhead.

All at once, there is a bright blue light behind me, and I turn to see a cluster of three alien spacecraft about 1000 yards beyond the surgical tent. They emit a very low frequency sound that I can feel, but not hear. The largest craft shines a pinhole spotlight upon the chained beast, which enrages the animal. It howls and snatches madly at its heavy iron leash, and the spotlight pulses at a very high frequency for a few seconds before going out. When it does, I turn back to look, but the saucers are gone.

Then a flap on the tent opens, and the Hitler Youth with black eyes begin to emerge. They are followed by the surgeons with obscured features, and finally by the Übermensch creature they have assembled. It is huge and naked, bloody and sexless. All of them march away from the fire and the tent, to be swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

Finally, the great chained beast begins to shriek. I look to see that its hair has turned white, as has its eyes. It yelps and snarls, snatching furiously at its tether as it circles madly in confusion. I can smell it rot before me as it shrivels like a salted slug, turning rapidly into a desiccated carcass of bone, teeth and fur. It remains animated until the very last, when it collapses in a dusty pile of ash.

I woke up at 5:05AM, got out of bed, and wrote the beast's name down on a slip of paper on my desk:

Tegu Nejüla

I do not know what this name means.

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