nightmares for some, dreams for others.
Special thanks go out to my recent graduation, reiki session, and my David Lynch-a-Thon for turning my brain to the Spin and Tumble cycles. I haven’t had a memorable dream in at least four months let alone a nightmare. I don’t even know what a nightmare is anymore; one of the perks of becoming a typical desensitized adult. The scariest dream I can recall occurred during the middle of a long work week. I came home from my home décor store job, conked out and dreamed that I was working. Nothing different at all, just working a full 9-5. Then I woke up and had to go to work again.
So, last week, I finally I get a dream I remember. And it’s haunting. And then I dream another. I had FIVE FRICKIN’ SCARY DREAMS IN A ROW. And I remembered all of them, all totally lucid, cinematic 3D style dream-mares. It’s not often you remember this many in a row.
Just for fun, let’s look at them. I tried to analyze them. The only thing I learned is that I have issues. Nothing new there.
1. All-You-Can-Eat Slaughterhouse
I’m sitting at a restaurant table with some blurred out (like on Cops) friend. We look at the menu. It’s a ribs type eatery. A chain smoking waitress comes by and I point to an item. Everything sounds 50-feet underwater. I’m ushered to the backroom: a slaughterhouse floor with a broiling fire pit that looks like an open elevator. The pig I picked slides towards me on a hook. I slide it through the flame until golden. I’m told to slide it along and the waitress hands me a carving saw. Apparently this restaurant is a You-Cook-You-Eat sort of place. So, I slice the thing up. The guts weren’t taken out first, so they’re splattering on the floor or splashing off as I saw through them. An eyeball hits the ground and rolls into the blood trough. A fat guy with no shirt slaps the cuttings all on a plate, weighs it on a scale, cling wraps it, and gives it to me to take home.
I wake up.
2. The Bad Student
This one stems from my panic that my final grade wasn’t entered into the school’s database. For background, I had an assignment where I was to devise a program for a certain local anti-poverty group and actually submit the proposal to them. More background, I am incredibly self-conscious about things I’ve written for people’s approval.
I’m at home. A knock on the door. I answer. It’s people from the anti-poverty group. They’re super nice and I invite them in. We have tea and biscuits. How nice. Then they open up a briefcase, laptop, screen and Powerpoint slide presentation. They proceed to absolutely rip my proposal apart. Showing how idiotic it would be for them to start a website (something I proposed) or even use social marketing (another proposal). Then they started showing me why I’m the worst person to come up with ideas because I’m totally out of touch with society and I totally overshoot my target and I totally can’t even type a sentence without some kind of grammatical error. They tell me I should never have been born. They actually prove it to me. Then they slide me something to allow me to put myself out of the world’s misery; a taser. Not even a gun.
I wake up.
Dreams 3 through 5 next post…