Tip #5 in preventing yourself from awakening an elder evil: If you keep a journal or diary, READ IT! Especially look for some sort of progression of weirdness or possible supernatural activity.
Too often, investigators would only find a bloodied diary at the scene of some horrific event which clearly details the deterioration of the writer into madness.
It would usually go something like this:
(Entry dated 4 weeks before event): Found a funny looking statue at a yard sale. Looks like some sort of human/octopus crossed with a lobster. Bringing it home. Would make a good paperweight.
(Entry dated 3 weeks before event): Clumsy me. Accidentally cut myself with a letter opener. Crazy amount of blood all over the desk. Strangely, I thought I got some on the statue, but it’s clean. Almost like it absorbed it or something. Oh well, less stuff for me to clean.
(Entry dated 20 days before event): Had a crazy nightmare. Felt like I was trapped in my own body but something else was controlling it. Woke up in the living room with mud on my feet. Yikes! I didn’t know I walked in my sleep. Perhaps I should make an appointment at the sleep center. Maybe next week when I’m not so busy.
(Entry dated 10 days before event): Feel tired all the time. Not getting much sleep. I can’t remember exactly, but I keep having dreams about tearing into flesh and eating it. Must be that zombie movie I watched a few months ago. Incidentally, the cat is missing.
(Entry dated 7 days before event): Got into argument with neighbor. Claims I was in his yard last night growling at the dog. He says I must’ve left his yard gate open because something (wolf? mountain lion?) tore his dog up. Crazy coot.
(Entry dated 5 days before event): Neighbor keeps staring. I think he’s plotting something. Still blames me. Feel tired all the time. Can’t think clearly.
(Entry dated 2 days before event): Saw my neighbor in my dream last night. He was begging me for mercy, to save him from some monster I can’t see. I could feel his fear. Taste it. Smell it. It reminded me of cotton candy, the kind I used to get when I was little and my parents would take me to the park. Cotton candy does that to me. Makes me remember the feeling I would get when I looked at my happy parents in the park, laughing and eating cotton candy with me. A sense of belonging.
It reminded me of love.
(Entry dated the day before the event): I see things clearly now. I know what I have to do. He hates me, but I don’t hate him.
Love thy neighbor.
I will bring love.