I have decided that this blog will be about my dreams. I have a lot of them, I sleep a lot, I nap as much as I can. I remember my dreams, and they are, maybe only to me or whoever is lucky enough to appear in one, interesting. It is a way of saying, 'hey, these is who I am, or this is how I am feeling' without a lot of real boring back-story. And by real, I mean real.
January 27th: I have had a light fever the past two nights, which always causes some twisty turny dreams. The first night I awake, in my dream, in my bed, and I am thirsty, so I get up, everything is where it is supposed to be, no sign that I an not actually awake, and then I start to feel a loss of control, a tingling, and then fear and then I know I’m dreaming. These dreams are reoccurring. I stumble back to my bed, and do what I often do in these dreams; I lie down, close my eyes and open them, again and again. I believe this works and I rise from my bed again for a glass of water, but this time there are people in my house, people I don't know, and I grow angry, really angry. I want a fucking glass of water, real water, not dream water. I start breaking things, and screaming, 'it doesn't matter, this isn't my favorite lamp, and it is my dream lamp.' Every time I break something, it becomes a new, even better object (lamp etc.) But I am still angry, I want out, I feel trapped, and the people in my house are obnoxious and they have cold hands. One guy, a short balding guy, tells me to jump out the window, that it was the only way. Then John came home from work and I finally woke up and got a glass of water. When I fell asleep again, I had another dream, this one was really horrifying. I was with friends (strangers to me in real life) and a husband (not john, but someone I have never met) and we were running around am orange grove. One of my friends ran into a branch and it cut her open. Instead of blood, maggots started pouring out of her, and it dawned on us, because of course maggots, we must be dead. She felt it liberating to finally know the truth that we have been decaying for years under our skin, but had somehow ignored it by playing it safe, she started to rip off her face and her chest, and fell to the ground, disappearing completely. My husband and I, and the rest of our friends, were not convinced that ripping our skin off only to have the rest of our bodies disperse as maggots was the best idea, but we were afraid that our decay would show itself at inappropriate moments. Maggots running across the dinner table if we cut ourselves with a steak knife. This fear made my husband succumb and rip his face off. I decided that the best solution would be to retrace my steps, to see where it was that I did die and start to decay. I found it was a house that my husband and I had bought. It was beautiful, and that is where I knew it all happened. At the house, there were people renovating it, painting it, and building a beautiful spiral staircase. Then I woke up and had to go to work.
January 27th: I have had a light fever the past two nights, which always causes some twisty turny dreams. The first night I awake, in my dream, in my bed, and I am thirsty, so I get up, everything is where it is supposed to be, no sign that I an not actually awake, and then I start to feel a loss of control, a tingling, and then fear and then I know I’m dreaming. These dreams are reoccurring. I stumble back to my bed, and do what I often do in these dreams; I lie down, close my eyes and open them, again and again. I believe this works and I rise from my bed again for a glass of water, but this time there are people in my house, people I don't know, and I grow angry, really angry. I want a fucking glass of water, real water, not dream water. I start breaking things, and screaming, 'it doesn't matter, this isn't my favorite lamp, and it is my dream lamp.' Every time I break something, it becomes a new, even better object (lamp etc.) But I am still angry, I want out, I feel trapped, and the people in my house are obnoxious and they have cold hands. One guy, a short balding guy, tells me to jump out the window, that it was the only way. Then John came home from work and I finally woke up and got a glass of water. When I fell asleep again, I had another dream, this one was really horrifying. I was with friends (strangers to me in real life) and a husband (not john, but someone I have never met) and we were running around am orange grove. One of my friends ran into a branch and it cut her open. Instead of blood, maggots started pouring out of her, and it dawned on us, because of course maggots, we must be dead. She felt it liberating to finally know the truth that we have been decaying for years under our skin, but had somehow ignored it by playing it safe, she started to rip off her face and her chest, and fell to the ground, disappearing completely. My husband and I, and the rest of our friends, were not convinced that ripping our skin off only to have the rest of our bodies disperse as maggots was the best idea, but we were afraid that our decay would show itself at inappropriate moments. Maggots running across the dinner table if we cut ourselves with a steak knife. This fear made my husband succumb and rip his face off. I decided that the best solution would be to retrace my steps, to see where it was that I did die and start to decay. I found it was a house that my husband and I had bought. It was beautiful, and that is where I knew it all happened. At the house, there were people renovating it, painting it, and building a beautiful spiral staircase. Then I woke up and had to go to work.
posted by roboticfinfactory at 10:31 PM
1 Comments:
i often have the dream where i am getting water, but then not getting it because it is a dream, but then getting some, but then not getting some--- and staying perpetually thirsty. also, i know you and i talked about having the same dream about the moon, maybe mine was just it being real close and there were two of them... anyway, today i was reading your story and remembered a piece i wrote years ago and just re-read again last week, from when i lived in spain. and the language is so similar, and it kind of freaked me out-- cause in that piece the moon falls out of the sky too, and i think i used words that are pretty similar to the ones in your moon story, although not exactly the same. the point is, maybe we're the same person? just, you know, not? but kind of, a little bit? what do you think?
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