March 22, 2004

• Dreams... I will retell some that I just had.

  
  

  We were in a hospital, an old hospital. The kind were everything is either black, white, or chrome. Everything was very clean. There was someone trying to kill us with knives or blades of any kind, really. This was a very bloody dream. Limbs were cut off, fingers were cut off, people were slashed, it was all around bloody. Some people I was with died, and it ended up a struggle between me and him, and I slit his throat with a scalpel. When I killed the him, his father was there. He had some blade that was supposed to have some practical purpose, but it really just seemed to be cutting up his face when he used it. He threw it at me, and it just barely missed.

  
  

  Next dream: the father of the man I killed. Somehow he was a friend of the family. He lived on some water in what seemed like a sort of cottage with his wife. We went over there, and he was trying to kill me. He had a scalpel: ironic, really, since I killed his son with one. No one around could see that he was trying to kill me: he just looked like a senile old man to them. But when anyone looked away he would slash with the knife, or even throw it. I always jumped, or put something in the way for it to get stuck on. Eventually I was completely terrified of this man, and I wanted to get out of there. I was planning an escape, knowing that he would chase me, and that somehow he could easily kill me if he were not hiding it from everyone else. I think I ended up leaving with everyone else, cowering behind my family as we got into a van. I reported him to the police as mentally insane and trying to kill me. I believed that he was capable of killing anyone who he perceived reason to kill. They didn't believe me.

  
  

  Next: my wedding. It was my wedding day. I was standing at the front of a filled church. A man walked up to me, my dad I think, and told me she wasn't coming. With a mix of furry and disappointment I left to some sort of backstage area: where there were walls of layered silk and lace that created small rooms. They gave a sort of surreal feeling, like I could move through these fake rooms forever without finding an end. I felt more rash then I've ever felt. Like I was just looking for something stupid to do. I wanted to fight, or to fool around with the closest girl (somehow I though there was one who was willing rather close). But in a effort of self restraint I stayed in these rooms, burning in my strong emotions, knowing that the only person who I could talk about this too just betrayed me. Driving away, I asked my dad what she claimed the reason was. He told me there was none. In a sort of outburst I declared that there had to be. It was logically impossible for there not to be. He told me I was too philosophical, it wasn’t a matter of logic. This angered me all the more.

  
  

  I woke up feeling rather bitter, but with an itch to write these things down. So I have. I’m not sure why, really. Read into them if you like but I can’t see much, I doubt you could either. Have a good day.

  • 10:39 am
  • 2 Comments