press x to not die
Thursday, July 8, 2010 / 2:25 AM
I'm pretty comfortable describing my dreams. The ones I remember anyway - and there are a few that are so dark they still hang around me even though its been a few years. There is this one especially, I had it when I was around six or seven, that I still remember to this day. And no, it was not a good dream.
Message to Cheri (We got into habits of immediately alerting each other when we have fucked up dreams via text at five in the morning... this was just a regular FaceBook messaging. God knows how much I love fucking around that site.):
So, you know when your dream starts you automatically know certain things? I never got how that worked.... Certain things like, when my dream started, I knew I did not look the same (I had blonde hair and I was about five inches shorter), I did not live in my house (something tells me it was San Francisco even though I've never been there) and it was the 70's and 60's or some shit like that. I knew it was set during some kind of social revolt or something... plus the cars driving by where those old models. Anyway, I was living with someone that looked like my mom but was different... bad different. I could already tell she was a really fragile woman. The place I lived in my dream was one of those ugly cookie cutter houses - white, small windows and a generic porch- in front of this really busy avenue and near it is a sand-colored jail... but more of a mental institution. There was a field of weeds right in front of it so there place is actually next to, but behind my house.
The dream starts off and I'm standing on the sidewalk, surrounded by these police officers and their cars, and they're all looking at the jail. I never quite hear what they're saying but I know the gist of it - they have to protect me because he (I don't know 'he' is precisely) is targeting me. All I know, is that he wants me for something or I know something he wants and he wants to kill me to get to it... it was that or I knew him and I had something to do with why he was in that jail. It's like having a memory in a dream... I know something happened in that world and I'm sort of remembering as I'm dreaming.
Anyway, I'm standing by these officers and 'he' looks like he's organized a psychotic killing spree inside the jail - total brainwash the most unstable people in that place. Everyone inside has some kind of weapon and is beating the shit out of the workers, other patients and visitors and he's behind it all. There's patients climbing out windows, bursting through the glass, clawing their way up the barbed wire fence and dying on it. The thing is, we can see it happening outside cause the place is surrounded by those generic fences but they've set up some insane barricade of furniture and bodies. They just can't get in.
While I'm standing there and everyone I standing protectively around me, I realize there is one dude that is different. He's some kind of higher up, like a private agent or something, and he's looking at me like he's blaming me for everything that is happening. And in the dream, I'm so fucking terrified, Cheri, I'm petrified. I can't even process anything that is happening and I can't do anything aside from just stand there and watch everything on the other side of the fence. But when he looked at me, the guy that wants me dead (cause I somehow saw him look at me through the fence and from like... fifty yards away) I just snapped. I could almost hear the switch flicking off in my brain. Sanity - off.
I grabbed one of the officer's guns and ran forward and I was so angry, I just wanted blood. In my dream, my mind was totally blank and cold... just made of metal. Like i was thinking nothing, feeling nothing and just... running to the jail. Then when I got close enough, I ducked behind a post and suddenly I was shooting the killers... the ones with the weapons, he'd somehow brainwashed them, and I was aiming perfectly. I just aimed and fired, aimed and fired and they all dropped and started coming at me and then the cops finally jumped in once I was surrounded.
I kept killing them though and I was so nauseous every time I pulled the trigger and I kept hearing glass cracking in my head. I dunno, Cheri, my mind just turned off. I blinked and turned out I got all of them and they were all lying dead. I was just standing there, starting off into space and then the guy, the 'he' that was looking for me was running away. I think he saw something in me that scared him. I think I had some kind of attack in the dream cause I started crying and screaming and shaking on the ground and the police was pulling me away from the place and I was clawing at anyone that tried to touch me... I guess he did something to the me in the dream. He was faceless.
He was running towards my house and I'm screaming at people to get him and they said they couldn't do anything except for the private agent from earlier. He was just restraining me. I don't know what I did because as soon as he disappeared behind my house, the officers just made a pathway for me. So I ran away again, towards my house, and saw him pulling out of my driveway in a green car. I was enraged. I remember I was screaming something awful at the car and the private agent was running after the car and I was following. I was shooting at the car and I somehow got the tires causing the car to swerve off the road and into a side ditch. I have no idea what happened because I blacked out in the dream. Almost a second later, I knew some time had passed in the dream... like a few months, and I was outside, on the same street, walking really slowly and shakily, carrying some rocks towards my lawn. I remember feeling so breakable... like the smallest problem was going to cause a major attack. I don't know how to even describe it... like that's the way someone who just had a nervous break down feels. The smallest thing could set them off into a rage.
As I'm nearing my house the woman that's supposed to be my mom runs out of the house screaming that I wasn't supposed to be outside cause the guy was still out there and he was going to kill me if I was outside. I remember saying, "And I'll just kill him first if he finds me."
This one... I'm not entirely sure how to feel about it. I did not particularly enjoy the confusion after because I woke up thinking
what the bloody fuck was that? and a little nauseous. This one joins the ranks of the ones that have managed to stay in my memory. I had another one on Tuesday but I forgot it almost immediately after I woke up. I think I remember it because of how awful it felt. The feeling of breaking glass, breaking minds... no. Not a fan.
It's up for interpretation. I can't really rely on my dreams to tell me something about myself simply because I've had too many amusing zombie dreams to take anything my REM cycle produces seriously.
ogni cuore
ha il suo dolore
If you're here, you've somehow managed to stumble across my blog. The word blog makes me think of snooty fashionistas in
New York writing about their later escapades in their pink Mercedes so we'll just call this the place were Ria (yours truly)
can spit out whatever the hell she wants with no responsibility or thought about who she might be offending.
Also, if you're reading this, you might want to know a few things. This is my fifth attempt at successfully keeping a record of my thoughts and doings
- after a few LiveJournals, a former Blog (if you peek around you might find it), and a few paper journals - so, I figure this might be the last chance
I'll give myself to write everyday - if not possible then every other day - about what's going on through my head.
N
o, you're not handcuffed to a chair. You may leave if you will. Go watch porn.
My basic goal with this is to try to flesh out the philosophies, memories, thoughts that make me - me.
Truthfully, I just want to write again. I miss it.
omnes relinquite spes
o vos intrantes
Nel mezzo del camin di nostra vita
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
che la diritta via era smarrita.
Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura
esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte,
che nel pensier rinuova la paura!
Tant 'e amara che poco è più morte;
ma per trattar del ben ch'i' vi trovai,
dirò del altre cose ch'i' v'ho scorte.
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. Inferno
and tonight
the stars revolt
