i have to write what i remember of this dream. this crazily calculated nightmare from the other side. i know i won't be able to remember all of it but i have to get down what i do remember. the last image and/or thought wasn't supposed to be. somehow i planned, or something in me planned, to end the dream with a settling calm over the aftermath of what took place (or what would have to take place)..because some of it was too gruesome.
in this dream: it seems that there were several people, or victims. well no, not several. several sounds like a lot when there were probably your standard number, one more than a hand full. and they were gathered together over something important, something that was both spiritual and scholarly. someone in the group was doing some kind of research.
in any case there were these people gathered together and it was clear from the start that the thing (or things) that they were after were not human and not alien. these people were finding traces of something that seemed like a mythical creature. though no one wanted to admit it they all felt it, the being, was celestial in origin. also, though no one wanted to admit it, they were inexplicably drawn..pulled. they gravitate to each other as well as the creature on a telepathic level (because duh, i'm dreaming) and there are some rather lovely psychic, supernatural things littered throughout (and i have to say that because its amazing to think that this dream took place in my mind, you know? but i really don't feel like it was mine at all. i feel like i witnessed something, sure, but i don't feel like it came from me at all.
so these people were led through a sort of wild goose chase. all the time they are followed by this sweet old homeless man character. he isn't crazy or a drunk or even unwanted, he's a mute. but he's a mute with a camera documenting everything he comes into contact with.
they, the group, goes through this dream and always one step behind the thing they are trying to decipher or capture or see. they bicker and they doubt each other but they push on. losing one person in every other section, challenge, task, clue-finding situation. throughout there are these really great images, in the style of that movie seven or that movie constantine or saw or something. lots of grime and muck and netherworld-like decor.
the last task or image was something that was already forseen by the group, just not understood until at last the end.
the remaining people, searchers, victims were drowned in a great vat or giant tank of something that looked like murky water that was illuminated in shafts. so you could see pieces of the whole scene. and there's three or four of these drowned people lined up vertically. three or four of the remaining people circle the uncovered top of this tank-vat, including the homeless guy who has now stopped photographing. he finds a small piece of something that looks like gauze floating or suspended in the thick liquid and examines it. i don't know what it was made of and it didn't look like he did either but when he tried to lift it out of the water to get a better look or to show everyone else he found that the strip of thicker than gauze went straight down into the mouth of the first dead person in the water. her eyes were open. her mouth was open. her hands reached out, but claw-like. she looked frozen in the act of trying to swim up. everyone looked that way, everyone connected or threaded (vertically) through with this thin strip of something that no one could figure out.
so the people that remained alive went out of the building where this tank-vat of death was and sat inside a waiting car or cab to discuss their next move. everyone felt the same, that there was a message here, as there had always been. and just as they were trying to figure it out.. the old man starts to speak! at first, its slow and he is sweating from frustration and a little embarrassment. he talks, haltingly at first, about life and how hard it is to live or keep living. he starts to wax philosophical and loses the shy exterior which he's had my whole dream long. then something happens. something in the light outside of the cab changes. he pauses awhile, looking at everyone lovingly. everyone is touched and moved by the long and dramatically built speech the man has just given. he is like an angel to them, full of loving and tenderness. none of them have ever felt so safe. someone starts to weep softly.
the man's voice changes. its darkened by something. he says, "But what else is there for us? We are, after all, demons!"
i'm looking at him and his eyes make contact with mine, so briefly. then his throat just explodes, his whole head comes apart. a million heads and teeth and hungers burst from this one man who is, clearly, no longer man. the doors lock and there's no escape. his roar fills everything and he thrashes about, killing and consuming the remaining survivors.
but he never once touches me. and i am never once afraid, as i should be if this is a nightmare. but i guess that it isn't.. it isn't my nightmare, its someone elses.
09:01 - Saturday, Mar. 12, 2005
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
lv2write00
squirrelx
cdghost
smoog
muppetathena
crystal42
thatdame
iwillsurvive
monstre
ouvrelesyeux
poolagirl
lintpickle
i-am-jack
anniewaits18
alicewonders
sunnflower
crateobscure