I was at my old home, the Farm House. This has been the scene of nearly every nightmare I've had.

I was standing in the kitchen with a few people, some men and some women, all of whom were in their mid-thirties and were my class mates for graduate school. (I haven't actually attended graduate school in real life.) Save one man, all of them were friends that I knew well in the dream, but did not remember having seen in real life. Me and two of the women--a medium-blonde and a brunette--had regularly hung out and studied together.

One of the men present was a little older, maybe 50. He was in very good shape; he had a somewhat athletic build. He had slick, jet-black hair and a Spanish mustache, but no other facial hair. He had a strong, angular jaw. He was dressed like a butler, limousine driver, or concierge; he looked very dapper in his silk tailcoat that was the color of boiled spinach with a mint-green button-down under it, and he wore clean, white gloves, and had thin gold trim on his clothes in various locations. There was a gold embroidered insignia on his left coat pocket, though I couldn't make out the letters.

Now, the two women and I belonged to a sacred Order that had been established many hundreds of years ago, if not a several thousand year ago. We had been attending it for most of our lives, almost as long as we could remember. The purpose of the Order was to give guidance and counseling to those who had been born with a connection to the cosmic Power that commands the universe. We had been made to join it by various authority figures; It had been necessary, because without the Order our connection to the Power could cause not-insignificant harm to ourselves and those around us.

As we were standing there talking, the blonde woman motioned to open the refrigerator door. Instead of opening the door, though, she tried to be clever by using the Power to reach THROUGH the door by bending the fabric of reality. Unfortunately, however, she made a mistake, and ended up tearing a hole in reality. (It looked like an actual tear, as though the world were made of cheap tissue paper). On the other side of the tear I could see the infinite darkness and perplexing distortions of the Void, which is the realm of non-existence, where things go to disappear forever without a trace.

Her hand got stuck in the tear. She struggled to pull it free, and she began to panic, attempting to use the Power again to free herself. But the struggle only made it worse, and soon her whole body began to mangle and sift into the tear, and kept doing so until there was nothing left of her. Then the tear closed behind her, and she was gone.

I was shocked and unnerved, but I held on to a hope that she could be brought back, because I knew that the older man who was with us was actually a highly-trained Guide of the Order and he would know what to do. But when I asked for help, he simply stated there was nothing that could be done because what goes into the Void can never return, because the Void is the realm of infinite, absolute nothingness and not even the cosmic Power can reach into it without being destroyed.

In my fear and frustration, I protested, saying that the Order must have incidents like this happen frequently, and there must be some standard protocol for handling it. But as the man gave me a look of curious, stoic confusion, I tried to appeal to his humanity by asking him whether he was doing what his desire to protect those of the Order would lead him to do.

He simply answered, "I am."

It was then that my eyes were opened and I was filled with a terrifying, world-shattering revelation about his true nature, the Order, the cosmic Power, reality, and my own existence...

His face turned into that of a comedy mask: His eyes and mouth morphed into pitch-black cresents of an evil, mocking smile, and his skin became like purest, smooth and other-worldly ivory. A voice from beyond time and space spoke to me saying, "I am the Troublemaker. We are the Troublemaker. You are the Troublemaker. All is the Troublemaker."

"Of course," I thought. "I am the Troublemaker. All is the Troublemaker." And my shock, awe, and panic began to overwhelm me. I realized that the whole of the cosmos was but a thought of the entity that embodies pure chaos; the random, uncontrollable, unpredictable force that brought the universe into existence, was standing here before me, taking on the form of this man: The Troublemaker.

I stepped outside and the world began to swirl around me. I began to lose my sense of self. The thought kept repeating in my head: "I am the Troublemaker. All is the Troublemaker." I began to hyperventilate, and I fell to the ground.

Then I woke. From my lips I heard whispered without consent, "I am the Troublemaker."