Monday, August 28, 2006

Bad dream

I don’t usually have bad dreams.

Well, that’s not one-hundred-percent correct.

I sometimes have bad ‘thoughts’ right as I’m falling asleep…a flash of a monster, or one of the kids crying, or my body falling, but it’s at such an early stage of ‘falling asleep’ that I can wake myself up, screw my head on straight, have some good thoughts/fantasies, and fall asleep with nary a wrinkle in my sheet of dreams.

But last night?


Last night was terrible.

In the dream, I walked down one of our city streets and noticed the body of a small child…a girl, blonde hair, her doll beside her, lying face-down on the sidewalk. Her playmate, dark-haired, lay near her. I was…horrified…(I’m close to upchucking right now just thinking about it). I turned the corner to see an entire city block, one of the city parks, full of bodies…FULL. Children, women, men, some singular, some in piles, all dead. No blood. Some survivors sat amongst the bodies, grieving, crying, shocked.

Then I saw THEM.

The Killers.

They looked like a cross between the Reavers in the movie Serenity and the dreadlocked-alien creature from Predator. Mean sons-o-bitches. The thing is, they didn’t have to touch you to kill you. They had some power…what power I didn’t know…to take your life. They were going from house to house, street to street, killing indiscriminately. One family huddled in a corner may have one dead, two dead, all dead, whatever THEY wanted.

I ran home.

I began closing the drapes in the house, telling my husband what was going on in hushed screaming. We got the kids together, and were trying to figure out where to hide, when I heard music. Something sweet and sappy, from the 1950s, a female voice in a lullaby tone. I knew. Instinctively. The Killers used music to sooth us, and then they’d capture and kill. Two windows were left uncovered, and as I ran to close them, all I could see outside was green grass and sidewalk…but I knew. I knew they were out there. Death was at the door.

I woke up panting and afraid. The alarm clock said 5:05. I tried to shake off the dream, but it wouldn’t leave my head. I tried everything…thinking of my ‘special place’, thinking of the kids laughing and playing, fantasies of Boyfriends, DIRTYSEXY fantasies of total strangers, planning my day…nuthin’. I lay there, and tried to close my eyes, but then the screaming started and visions of dark Killers. I didn’t get back to sleep. I sweated my way through to 6 a.m., wondering Why. That. Dream. What did the Killers represent? Was this just a dream, or a premonition? WTF would I do tonight when it was time for bed, would sleep come? Or would it stay out on the sidewalk, in the shadow of something sinister?

I blame the Discovery Channel, those commercials for the Black Plague, or maybe the Sci-Fi Channel, for jeebus-knows-what. Or maybe that piece of pumpkin bread I had before bed. Or, perhaps, my brain just had to unload a lot last night, and dammit, fear is the best way to clean house.

What was YOUR last scary dream?


At 1:48 PM, Blogger Lucia said...

Holy crap! This scared the bejeebers out of me just reading it. (You're sure it's not a movie script that you're supposed to write?)

At 5:36 PM, Blogger Maggie said...

That is frightening. I hate dreams like this one where your frantically trying to save your family, its scarier than being pursued yourself.

At 7:48 PM, Blogger jo(e) said...

Just reading this is going to give me nightmares. I have bad dreams fairly often -- Nazi Germany type nightmares. And I wake up completely panicked.

At 12:04 PM, Blogger karmic_jay said...

Scary indeed. I don't get scary dreams, if I do I don't remember them or may be I compartmentalize them so as to not affect my waking hours?

May be cos I am too tired to dream or maybe cos I don't watch too much Teevee or scary movies?
Hope you feel better.

At 3:23 PM, Blogger Orange said...

I had a scary dream a couple nights ago—though markedly less horrifying than your nightmare. In mine, I was in a hotel room, and there was some sort of spy guy I had to elude. Then I almost got caught by this big burly blond man, but I fought back by swinging from a chandelier or something, trying to kick him in the head. Alas, he caught me, and ended up gripping my neck with his paws and a chain (like the sort of chain playground swings hang from), swinging me as I dangled over the upstairs railing. Somehow I got away, and ran and ran and ran through a suburban neighborhood to find safe harbor. The women and kids playing in a front yard completely ignored me, and I hid behind a bush, hoping the man wouldn't reappear. This dream felt like it lasted for hours.

(Yeah, it's hard to clear out your brain's cache and purge the bad dream's images so you can get back to sleep. Dreadful, just dreadful.)

Whereas the yearning dreams, in which I get as far as hugging but never actually manage to have sex, those seem to last about 15 minutes. Grr. (In the last such dream, the man involved was Mr. Tangerine! Only taller... Usually it's not him, though.)


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