I've been hitting a string of nightmare lately. Weird, shaking, painful ones, hitting the highest point I've ever hit last night as I let myself be murdered.
So, I'm going to start with the dream I had last night that didn't involve death, but it was, uh,.... okay, here it is.
It's worth mentioning that the brother in this dream is in no way related to my irl half-brother Joe. This was a dream-only character with zero resemblance. Although, this is still weird as is.
I worked at a restaurant as a waitress, and my brother was a cook.
I went to take a woman her drink of wine, and recognized her from where I work irl (although I'm not sure who she was / if she actually exists / call it a dream thing). We started talking as I poured some pepper into her table candle to enhance the scent (??).
I went back into the kitchen, which really really resembled another section of booths rather than a kitchen, to find my brother drinking on the job, already pretty far gone.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded, folding the serving platter under my arm. "You are going to get fired!"
He said nothing, sort of just observing me.
I acted on an impulse, testing the waters that I know are troubled. I grab him by the collar with my left hand, pulling his head down to my level. (I'm 5'1" irl and in this dream; he is well over six feet) We gave each other a long stare.
He gave in, wrapping his arms around my waist and hoisted me into a deep kiss. He smelled like fresh laundry. Which is good, but as a cook, shouldn't he smell different?
I backed up, nodded, and went about my job, leaving him to his own devices.
YES. Dream incest. WTF.
Thank god that it was not my real brother or I'd be in counseling instead of typing this out. If there is any symbolism in this, I think I'm missing it. Also, I've never been a waitress. Or put pepper into candle wax.
*suddenly tempted to try it* o__o
Okay, onto the more exciting one.
The setting is a prison break, late at night, with heavy rain.
The prison was almost completely empty. A group of us were trapped within, unable to escape as the entire prison ground swarmed with armed, dangerous criminals.
I was huddled into a large holding cell with five or six others, cold, scared, awaiting the worst. There was one prisoner in particular that I knew would be looking for me, with a vengeance.
I did not know why he wanted me specifically. I just knew that he was coming to kill me.
And he did.
Appearing through the flashes of lightning like a jagged tree's silhouette, he slumped into the cell, carrying with him a motorized, cordless circular saw.
I stepped in front of everyone else, determined to protect them. I knew it was me alone he'd come for.
Within seconds, he had me pinned to the ground, looming over me like a dark predator. He clicked the machine on, and while aiming for elsewhere, nicked my thigh on accident, tearing it open.
I finally began to feel fear. I scream outright in agony, feeling the blade rip at me. I clung to a dying hope that someone was going to come to my rescue, but I knew this was it. I had chosen this. I was dying.
The last thing I actually feel is a huff of air from the motor across my bare belly. When the saw actually hit my stomach, I was beyond feeling. I was swimming dizzily in a panicked spiral, where all I could hear was the whirring blade and my own distant screaming. I was slightly aware that my insides were being literally ripped to shreds, but it wasn't long before I swooned in fear, causing me to slowly dissolve into consciousness on the other side.
Makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it @_@
Okay, no idea where that came from. I'm the one who laughs at chainsaws and the like as weapons. I don't think I've ever seriously died in a dream like that, that I can remember so vividly.
But I suddenly, even if only in dreamland, understood the psychology behind living a normal life and suddenly finding courage in the face of death.
Most famous example is my favorite historic figure, Marie Antoinette. She was a sad individual under a lot of stress, having come from her homeland of Austria to marry into French aristocracy. Then, surprise surprise, Austria and France became enemies. Fuck her life.
She took out a lot of sadness, I believe, in buying expensive things. So, on the outside, she lived a shallow life without my detail, only to suddenly buck up in the face of death and accept it nobly, like a truly unconquerable, strong soul.
That's kind of how I felt, knowing I was going to die. Sudden courage.
In real life, my wager is still me going out like a whining, scared little bitch.
I've always said I'd be the one to challenge a schoolyard gunman by making it a fist fight.
Anyway, toodles for today, I'm off to wear many layers and distract myself from the tummy area.
I am a lardass who figured out how to make pigs in a blanket and then consumed about 14 of them right before bed. I slept for... um... probably ten or eleven hours.
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