bad dreams
Is there something dark out there at this time of year that torments one with bad dreams? I've had some really terrible ones during the last few days:
train-car loads of dead bodies are about to be brought in. I am expecting their imminent arrival. a terrible man who is planning some sort of newbie-initiation horror for me regarding those same bodies, me flinging myself about the room in a desperate attempt to get above/away from his planned horrors, his taunting and my acknowledgement that I do indeed intend to make those coming dead bodies my business (what I must do with them, I'm not sure, but I feel I must deal with them: I have accepted them as my duty). The first bodies to come in have been wrapped in some sort of white fabric, but of the first, one is a little child and there is blood everywhere, blood congealing all over the body, shining like purple jello. I am clinging to some sort of rafters, unable to let go of the rafters, barely able to lift my feet clear of the grossness below, looking down at the crazed, taunting man and the vivid contrasts of death and its wrappings. I know I will (through sheer will power) get over it and get down to deal with the horror and do what I must. Just not yet...
there is something wrong with my breasts. I am one moment proud hostess in my own small eccentric way. my home is open to view: kitchen, sitting room, dining room, garden. my confused son did mistake the house; it is number 4 as I thought, not the house two doors down as he had thought. Neither of us had been here recently. I am hostess in my home after some sort of abscence, the reason for which I don't know. I lead my guest in, and suddenly as a passionate embrace becomes weird and uncomfortable, I notice the areas around both nipples are bleeding, the skin tearing away. At first I thought my lover had pointed this out to me, but now I notice, he is oblivious. A empty gulf of separateness yawns as I realize my lover is alone in his mind as I am alone in my mind and soon the separateness will be felt as physical as well. I sense neither one of us is experiencing pleasure, although I was certainly experiencing desire at first. But where is the pain? I wonder. How will I ever repair my bleeding breasts?
These dreams are so horrible that I don't even want to know how to interpret them. Can I relate them in some way to what I have seen, or heard or thought about during the last few days? Not really. Can I?
train-car loads of dead bodies are about to be brought in. I am expecting their imminent arrival. a terrible man who is planning some sort of newbie-initiation horror for me regarding those same bodies, me flinging myself about the room in a desperate attempt to get above/away from his planned horrors, his taunting and my acknowledgement that I do indeed intend to make those coming dead bodies my business (what I must do with them, I'm not sure, but I feel I must deal with them: I have accepted them as my duty). The first bodies to come in have been wrapped in some sort of white fabric, but of the first, one is a little child and there is blood everywhere, blood congealing all over the body, shining like purple jello. I am clinging to some sort of rafters, unable to let go of the rafters, barely able to lift my feet clear of the grossness below, looking down at the crazed, taunting man and the vivid contrasts of death and its wrappings. I know I will (through sheer will power) get over it and get down to deal with the horror and do what I must. Just not yet...
there is something wrong with my breasts. I am one moment proud hostess in my own small eccentric way. my home is open to view: kitchen, sitting room, dining room, garden. my confused son did mistake the house; it is number 4 as I thought, not the house two doors down as he had thought. Neither of us had been here recently. I am hostess in my home after some sort of abscence, the reason for which I don't know. I lead my guest in, and suddenly as a passionate embrace becomes weird and uncomfortable, I notice the areas around both nipples are bleeding, the skin tearing away. At first I thought my lover had pointed this out to me, but now I notice, he is oblivious. A empty gulf of separateness yawns as I realize my lover is alone in his mind as I am alone in my mind and soon the separateness will be felt as physical as well. I sense neither one of us is experiencing pleasure, although I was certainly experiencing desire at first. But where is the pain? I wonder. How will I ever repair my bleeding breasts?
These dreams are so horrible that I don't even want to know how to interpret them. Can I relate them in some way to what I have seen, or heard or thought about during the last few days? Not really. Can I?
posted by Kati at 2:20 p.m.
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