Tuesday, July 28, 2009

A Look Into My Subconsious Mind.

I've heard that it's not possible to dream in color. I find that to be false.

This is the main dream that I had last night, there were two others.

Walking into an apartment a neighbor creepily smiles at me, after I enter I hear a noise. I look through the spyhole and he is leering into it as well. I run to a gigantic couch covered with multicolored leather patches, where my father comforts me. The neighbor begins blasting eerie lovesongs sung by Michael Jackson. I hear a commotion by the door. I know it is the leering neighbor breaking in. But, it wasn't, it is my mother in work clothes. She is followed by my uncle. We talk for a long time and we all decide that it isn't safe for me to stay there, and so I agree to leave.

We drive in separate vehicles. I am now driving a semi truck convertible. A work truck pulling a trailer swerves wildly in front of me. I honk my horn, he switches lanes. As I pass him he yells threats and obscenities at me. He looks like this one guy who is in Pirates of the Carribean. His window is rolled down and I don't want him to run me off the road (he is now trying to do just that) and so I begin to put on this false sweetness, wishing that it were genuine. The intersection looks like Johnson Drive and Antioch. I turn left and there is a large body of water along a neverending highway. I am forced to drive over it as the road has now dissappeared. Now the water looks like ice and there are enormous fish in it. The fish are the size of a standard sofa and they are green and white and slimy and the edges are all mouth with sharp outer teeth. They look a bit like sting rays.The sun makes the world a pinkish orange. It is warm, not hot, warm and humid. This is strange because the semi is plunging into an algae covered thin ice layer.

The fish are swarming. I am being eaten, but I am too weak to fight back. I let them nip at my arms for a while.

Something strange happens, I receive this untraceable strength.

I fight them, I pry them off of me. They are all gone.

One problem : there isn't anything above the water for me to float on and I catch no land in my eyesight.

Something strange happens, I know for no reason at all that if I go under the water I can breathe there.

I plunge under. From the road it seemed shallow, but everything has changed now, why would I think that the depth would be the same.I sink lower and lower. Crystals are bobbing around me. Some are daintily dancing. I see colors that I don't recognize. I see kaleidoscope patterns in some of them. It is breathetaking, blissful and beautiful. A weight hits the water above. The pressure causes my body to delve deeper.

I am in an underwater world. Contained here are miniature whitish gray people. Their naturally white skin is gray with splotches of black and white mold. A fear takes me over.

They desire to do nasty things to me. A part of my mind realizes that this is a vision of a place in hell and that I must be dreaming. An abstracted area in my head assures me I am asleep, but something is happening to my sleeping body, something horrible. This area tells me that my sleeping body is being attacked by an almost inconquerable force and I will only survive if I continue the dream and defeat the forces in it.

I beat the little devils senseless.

Forgive me this is where is becomes gruesomely graphic.

One of the creatures with a white bob style haircut immediately stands up. It gnaws on my upper right leg, biting to the bone. I tear a patch of skin from its stomach off. It is oozing a light pinkish goo. A waxy white half crocodile man wraps his long black hair around my neck. I bite through the hair.

Turning there is a door that looks like a ping pong table with a big metal push handle. It looks like a basement door. I open it. I see my paternal grandmother wearing the shimmering black cocktail dress that she wore to Nestor's wedding. She is all smiles and open arms. Her blonde hair matches a towering grandfather clock. The clock has a giant door. I want to go in. I have a violent urge to pry it open. I don't do it. I know that one day it will open to me of it's own accord.

I walk down the bright hall. I know where I am going even though I haven't been there before. In a tunnel with square cut outs that open to a view of a lush meadow and an adjacent prairie landscape, I find myself in front of Colin and Cassie, Felicity is there too. I lean to kiss their foreheads. Hunched over I tilt my eyes up. I see two people slowly walking toward me. They are happy, truly happy. The rosy sun from the cut outs shines heavenly light onto their faces. One has long chestnut hair that sweeps across her face from the soft winds blowing in the tunnel.

I know who they are...one is named after a color...and the other... well, I'll save that for later... I must keep being cryptic.

I awaken disoriented, with my head on the floor and my legs on my resting place. My hands are sore. My shoulders ache. I am out of breathe. My legs feel as though they have been kicking , my neck is tight like I have been choked. I am sure that something is in the room with me. I can't remember where the lamp is. Finally, my hand finds it. I feel breathe on the nape of my neck, but my dog is asleep in the hall. No one is in the room. I sit very still. I reach for my phone. Every so often for the next hour I walk into icy cold spots in the 88 degree room, (strange I turned off the air conditioner two hours before bed.)

I had been asleep for twelve minutes.

I had very little desire to return to the realm of sleep, or wherever I journeyed back from. I fell into sleep sitting up a little while later with my head tucked under the blanket.

I am sorry that I woke you up at two a.m. That was rude.


  1. Okay, first, semi-truck convertible? That has potential to be awesome.
    Second, I can't believe how detailed you remembered that dream. That's amazing. I'm lucky if I remember a few snippets here or there.
    And third, um, whoa.

  2. I know, right?
    Brilliant idea, semi truck convertible...
    I write down my weirdest dreams, and as I write I remember more aspects of them. It is strange.

    I wish I could sing you the song that was playing. It was like the one from Silence of the Lambs, when he's dancing around in the basement.