The Sound of my Subconscious Slithering

[thedarksiren2]

I am not sure whether it has been the heat, my being ill, anticipation of events to come...I have no clue but, I just haven't felt up to writing in here. With the exception of rhetoric towards the moderator of trip_hop, but that's neither here nor there.

However, there was this dream I had while camping that has been infiltrating my waking life constantly. So, for those of you who are chocolate peeps and already members of abstractions, you will see this twice. Otherwise, hold on for the ride!!!

I was walking through a large store, something along the lines of Super K-Mart or Walmart, one of those sublets of hell. At any rate, angellafurious and her son, D, along with some other female figure whom I don't recognize as having features other than her gender and a set of legs - almost as though I were seeing her through D's eyes, walking beside her, looking up.

We were all in search of a gift for D's birthday. he was tired, cranky, whining a lot. I found some SpongeBob Squarepants bedsheets that I thought he would like. He just became more agitated, whining more and tugging on his mom's shirt. I then tried to tempt him with Pokemon, and he began to cry.

Then, as though it were a cut in a film, the image blurring metallically, suddenly and TV-like snow-to-blackness, all within a blink. I was standing in a hallway, presumably in my brother Billy's house. It was long, a corridor, the carpets were a dark red, almost maroon. I stood in the middle of the hallway, the walls gray, featureless, and I heard the hum of silence around me, almost swallowing me. My dog Floyd came trotting by, his tongue hanging long out of his mouth as he passed me. He trotted into a door on the right, and I followed, curiously.

When I turned the corner, I realized I was walking towards the master bedroom, the walls turning lavendar and a large open door before me. I could see that, within the room, the floor was cluttered with lingerie, and as I walked forward, picking up a lacy white bra the size of texas, I heard my brother's voice booming from down the hallway. "DAWN ELLEN! WHAT'RE YOU DOING?"

I was startled, and quickly hid the bra behind my back. Billy walked around the corner just then, hands on his hips, cursing at me for being in his room, and what was I hiding anyway?

I told him nothing, and ran past him, knocking him to the side as I headed for the doors. "Damn it, Dawn Ellen!" he yelled after me. But soon, the corridors turned into wrought-iron fencing, floral gardens growing all about the walkway as I headed for the large gate doorway, where I stopped abruptly and threw the bra over, past the brick walls & towards the street beyond.

That street was representative of San Francisco, and a thin, tall white man with large black sunglasses and very large reddish-brown curly hair (an afro, if you will) came zooming past the doorway on his ten-speed, headphones on, chewing gum as he passed. I went to follow him, but Billy came out and grabbed me by the shoulders.

Again, metalic-snowy-fuzz-morphing: I was standing in the red and gray hallway again, and Floyd came trot-trot-trotting by again, his black main shimmering, wisping as he went. I called out to him as he came to the doorway on the right, and he stopped to look at me, closing his happy mouth before he snorted at me and went into the room.

I heard running water just then, and moved towards the room he had entered. When I took the right, I entered a bathroom, purple and black tiled, the tub overflowing with bathwater. The floor was dancing waves beneath my and Floyd's feet/ paws. Everything was enhanced, the sound of the drops hitting wet-surface, the sight of them splooshing in that moment. I could see it all, hear it and feel it. Each drop was like a heartbeat, and as I shooed Floyd out of the room, I walked forward to shut off the bathtub.

Reaching into the water was like reaching through a pile of silk scraps, and I could feel the smoothness, the softness from the tips of my fingers to my elbow, where I stopped, unplugging the tub. The softness held me for a moment, and it was extraordinary, so much that when I removed my hand, it went slow-motion-like, the silk-that-was-really-bathwater felt as though it were a suctioning mechanism, pulling me forward as I pulled out.

I recall recognizing my knees as wet when Billy came storming into the bathroom, asking me what I had done now. I told him that the water had been running, and overflowed. He told me how to fix it, unaware that i had unplugged it. I tried to tell him, but he would not listen. So I shrugged it off, and he told me to "go out back to play." So i did.

Snow-metal-fuzz-morph: I am walking out large, glass sliding doors to what I perceive as my backyard. mine. The night is as dark as it has ever been, the stars glistening above my head as I walked out onto the large marble platform. The platform seemd like a foundation that may never have been completed...a Greek ruin, larger than a house, leading to a large set of stairs guarded by crumbling columns, also made of gray and white marble.

I walked towards the columns, stopping at the top of the stairs to notice the funeral pyre across the way. It, too, was a monstrocity in expanse, a large cup meant for burning dead bodies, only it had been refurbished and was now a hot-tub for my pleasure, with smaller holes on it's four corners, burning with orange and red flames, beckoning me to join them beneath the night.

I walked down the steps, then across the dirty land...it was desert-like, nothing but big empty space, reddish-tan sand everywhere and large, comfy mountains in the distance, silhouettes against an indigo sky.

When I reached the top of the pyre-turned-hot tub, I heard voices from the right; my friends Azeric and Lorenzo were in their pyre-turned-hot tub, blasting music and partying, as is their nature. They waved me over, and I went to chat with my neighbors over cocktails.

Screen-switch yet again.

I am standing at the iron gate again, looking at the San Francisco street when I see the afro-guy zooming by on his bicycle again. This time, I run after him, chasing him down the steep street, seeing a VW bug along the way (it was either yellow or red, not sure which..it was a classic beetle though. '60's-era.) The strangest part was that, as I was chasing him, I recall thinking he was Floyd, only in human-form, and if I didn't catch him something bad would happen.

We got to the bottom of the street and he turned the corner to the right, and somehow I stopped running long enough to realize I was outside a studio, which in my dream was a school of some sort, maybe music. I don't know. But I needed to be there, apparently, so i went in.

I was sitting on a dance studio floor, surrounded by mirrors painted to look like walls, the support beams still sticking out waiting for their dancers to cling to them. There were about half a dozen desks in the back of the studio, but I chose to sit on the floor near the front of the room. Upon sitting, I realized my friend Busher was there and we hugged like we hadn't seen one another in years, only I knew that it had been a few months really.

He exclaimed, "Dawn Baby! I've missed you!"
I returned the sentiment, and we continued chattering, giggling and being silly. I recall his smell permeating my nostrils, almost burning but yummy no less.

Class ended, at least for some. He stood, towering over me, his arms almost seeming to lengthen as he reached to touch my face. Only, he grasped my face in both of his hands, holding me firmly as he bent to kiss me.

It was not a pleasant kiss. His tongue felt like a snake, stiff, thin, slithering between my lips and darting, DARTING, in and out of my mouth, down my throat, gagging me. I tried to pull away, but he was unaffected;he finished at his leasure, pulling his head back from mine as he said, "it's OK, Baby. I know you love me. I've always known you have."

he smiled a sweet, satisfied smile, his large amber eyes sparkling as he released my face from his large palms and fingers.

And I woke to the sound of bindrune's alarm, waking us to pack up and return home.

Comments

[tylorael.livejournal.com]

eerp.

*hugs*

fire bad. tree pretty.

[thedarksiren.livejournal.com]

LOL

(((HUGZ!!!)))

[tylorael.livejournal.com]

(if you don't know where that comes from, it's from a buffy episode where she degrades to a cavegirl mentality, and at the end, when she is restored, someone asks her about the meaning to saving the world, etc, and she looks at them and says "fire bad, tree pretty.". they proceed to try to explain it in esoteric terms, and at the end, she simply looks at them and repeats "fire bad. tree pretty.")

*hugs*

I miss you.

thankies for clarifying!

[thedarksiren.livejournal.com]

I had no idea what you were making reference to, but thought it was cute in general.

Nope. Can't say that I watched enough Buffy to get much of clue.

(((HUGZ!)))