|
You sure you wanna hear about mine? Okay.
There was one where I was in school, and the whole place was on fire. All of it was burning. Everyone was running around, screaming. And I was standing, laughing. People reached out to me, and I pushed them back in and watched them burn. I burned too in that one, still laughing.
Then there was one where people I knew were being attacked, and I didn't know what to do. One of them came back, and as I kneeled beside them, they grabbed my arm. Their blood trickled down my wrist, and their eyes stared into mine, accusing, fearful, terrible. I was kidnapped by two people in that dream, and they kept cutting me. It really hurt. Then, one of them picked up a hammer and smashed it into me. It all went black, and I woke up gasping for breath a bit later.
Another weird one was where I was in a field, and then loads of people attacked me with swords, and I fought back. I got my head cut off, but I have someseriously good dream-sword skills. I woke up that morning with blood all over my face from a really nasty nosebleed I had during the night. And I mean all over my face. The taste of your own blood is really grim. Especially when you're vegetarian.
Another special one was where I was in a big house, and I didn't really know why. There was a big corridor, and along one side was a window looking out onto a grey garden, full of dead trees. And in the middle of it all was a statue of a child, screaming. It's dead eyes were full of terror. I ran, and when I stopped to catch my breath, it was there in front of me. I fled down some stairs into a library type room. Two children were there, looking at some paintings of angels. One of them said:
"They're beautiful."
The other said:
"I do not care for angels." He flicked one of the paintings disdainfully. I felt creeped out by him. There was a photo on a wall, and on it were the two children, and another child, who looked familiar. I turned, tpo see the statue again, still with a fear-stricken face. But this time, it had human eyes, staring at me.
I was really, really scared of that one.
In my dreams, I can talk, there are sounds, I can touch things and smell things and feel emotions as if it was real life. Sometimes, they seem more real than my waking hours.
And I can die in them. I die an awful lot in my dreams. Not that it is bad. I just... die.
Some of them are pretty (really) good dreams up to the point I wake up to find I had been holding my breath.
_________________ The MS DOS of social situations...
|