She must have drown in the late 1800s. Her dress flowed eternally, billowing with the endless currents of the air. Her thick dark hair was matted and stiff like medusa’s snakes looked at themselves in the mirror. Her skin was blue and black either from the lack of oxygen when she died or some sort of terrible beating just before. She is mad at the living because they have access to the life force that was stolen from her. She fears men. Instead she focuses on easy targets to possess such as young unaccompanied fertile women.
I know this because she targeted me. I lay sleeping unsuspecting in my tent on a cold night in late spring. The sound of the creek falling off the mountain side nearby and the soft breeze billowing my tent made for a peaceful night despite the cold. In my dream, I turned around to a sneering blue face just before she slammed into me, highjacking my body. Stunned by the blow I looked down at my now blue hands still trying to figure out what had happened. In the mirror, my reflection had been replaced by her ugly beaten face. I entered a party of my family and friends where I proceeded to yell out a touretttial fit all the inappropriate thoughts that usually go unspoken. After all my unspoken thoughts had finally been spewed, she blew out of me in a gust of wind, leaving me to face the judgement for all my horrible thoughts. I looked in the mirror. Upon seeing myself I asked people at the dream party about the crazy blue witch who purged me. They said they only saw me having an emotional, insane fit, yelling terrible opinions. No blue ugly face, no 1800s dress and boots. She possessed me for that fleeting moment, haphazardly trying to steal my body and gain strength from my life force. She must have run out of energy to fight the wind from blowing her away. Regardless, she is there at Rush Creek, praying on young women, trying desperately to get back the life that was stolen from her.