speaking of dreams...
May. 15th, 2003 12:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedarksiren2two nights past now...
final decision after processing:
This warehouse has become an almost regular part of my dreamscapes, a place dark and murky, where life transforms and anything that leads toward shame or disappointment lurks to pull me under and suffocate me.
And always, always the dirty old mattress in the middle.
There is dust that remains unsettled throughout the building at all times. I used to think it was mist, fog, what-have-you, but now I know it is dust - all that is unsettled, lives left to linger despite their rebirths.
I was sitting on the dirty old mattress, holding several pills in my hands -- vitamins, to be exact. I knew one would harm me, that I would have an allergic reaction to one, but which it was I could not decide. I had to take my vitamins though, because good girls do that and stay healthy.
I threw them all in my mouth and swallowed hard; sudden memory of another dream where swallows swooped down at my head and water slowed my pace...the world muttered, "The key to life is the swallow," between the wind and rain.
Just then![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wraptboy appeared from within the dust, lookig dashing in a suit, and like someone I had never seen before -- a model, or a corporate millionaire - he was stunning, almost statuesque in his physique. And he was completely self-absorbed.
I tried to tell him that he looked fabulous, but it came out mumbled because my lips and tongue had begun to swell from the bad vitamin. He looked down at me, sitting on the filthy mattress, dust around my eyes where tears have settled a million times before. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked disgustedly at me. I asked him what was wrong, and he could not decipher what I was saying. He seemed to get angry that I disrupted his moment of self-love, his narcissism as it were, and walked away furiously.
It was at thi moment I realized just how swollen my mouth and tongue were, and that I was suffocating. I tried to yell for him to help, that he had to dial 911, get me to the doctors or I would surely die. He waved a hand as he kept walking, scoffing at my futile attempts to communicate when I was obviously the epitome of dank and pestilence.
I reached out and found a phone in the dust, which was now turning into a storm. I could barely see the numbers to dial them, and as I held the phone, I noticed my fingers had swelled as well. I began to panic, crying and fumbling with the phone in my swollen hands. Next thing I know, the swelling consumes the phone and it melds with my hand so I am dialing through my skin. The numbers are unclear, however, and I am overwrought with fear.
Almost like a movie, the room pans, and I am observing myself from afar...
I became what looked like the Elephant Man, and as I realized it (because my dream-eyes could see the movie too) I let out a horrible scream, a roar...
final decision after processing:
This warehouse has become an almost regular part of my dreamscapes, a place dark and murky, where life transforms and anything that leads toward shame or disappointment lurks to pull me under and suffocate me.
And always, always the dirty old mattress in the middle.
There is dust that remains unsettled throughout the building at all times. I used to think it was mist, fog, what-have-you, but now I know it is dust - all that is unsettled, lives left to linger despite their rebirths.
I was sitting on the dirty old mattress, holding several pills in my hands -- vitamins, to be exact. I knew one would harm me, that I would have an allergic reaction to one, but which it was I could not decide. I had to take my vitamins though, because good girls do that and stay healthy.
I threw them all in my mouth and swallowed hard; sudden memory of another dream where swallows swooped down at my head and water slowed my pace...the world muttered, "The key to life is the swallow," between the wind and rain.
Just then
wraptboy appeared from within the dust, lookig dashing in a suit, and like someone I had never seen before -- a model, or a corporate millionaire - he was stunning, almost statuesque in his physique. And he was completely self-absorbed.I tried to tell him that he looked fabulous, but it came out mumbled because my lips and tongue had begun to swell from the bad vitamin. He looked down at me, sitting on the filthy mattress, dust around my eyes where tears have settled a million times before. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked disgustedly at me. I asked him what was wrong, and he could not decipher what I was saying. He seemed to get angry that I disrupted his moment of self-love, his narcissism as it were, and walked away furiously.
It was at thi moment I realized just how swollen my mouth and tongue were, and that I was suffocating. I tried to yell for him to help, that he had to dial 911, get me to the doctors or I would surely die. He waved a hand as he kept walking, scoffing at my futile attempts to communicate when I was obviously the epitome of dank and pestilence.
I reached out and found a phone in the dust, which was now turning into a storm. I could barely see the numbers to dial them, and as I held the phone, I noticed my fingers had swelled as well. I began to panic, crying and fumbling with the phone in my swollen hands. Next thing I know, the swelling consumes the phone and it melds with my hand so I am dialing through my skin. The numbers are unclear, however, and I am overwrought with fear.
Almost like a movie, the room pans, and I am observing myself from afar...
I became what looked like the Elephant Man, and as I realized it (because my dream-eyes could see the movie too) I let out a horrible scream, a roar...
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-15 11:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-18 12:40 pm (UTC)Actually, a greater portion of it coincides with some real-life scenarios right now, so it made perfect sense (well, mostly anyway!)