"...followed by a brisk mauling."

The Slender Man mythos did not exist when I was born. It did not exist for most, if not all, of my childhood (like Slender Man itself, it’s specific origins are difficult to determine). It appears to have begun on an Internet forum, and other people quickly joined in, because it was fun, they were bored, it was a way to express creativity, and perhaps—and this is the one which bothers me in the dead of night while I’m alone and the wind is howling through the pines—because it resonated with them.

What is known, then, is that Slender Man clearly was created by a human being. It makes as much sense to be afraid of Slender Man as it does to be afraid of Cthulhu, General Ticktock, or Horrifying Houseguest.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet—

—I have had recurring nightmares of a Slender Man-like entity, in both physical form and psychical purpose, since I was a child.

I have several recurring nightmares from my childhood which still visit me on a semi-regular basis. The one about the cold green room and the wizened old man is most likely from partially repressed childhood trauma. The dream where my childhood birthday party turns into a terror-filled chase by children who rip off human skin to show their alien faces? Even a 1st-year Psych major could point to my feelings of loneliness, isolation, and a few awkward, sometimes abusive friendships throughout primary school.

But Slender Man? Where it came from, I don’t know.

Last night I had that dream again.

And every now and then?

It really creeps me out.