Welcome to My Nightmares

Hello bleeders, wastrels and layabouts. Hello all you maze-rats, lemmings and sardines, you abductees from lives of leisure. And welcome, all you sitting at home, taking a brief respite from the madness outside the four walls you call your castle. Good day to you lucky souls who find yourselves away from the constant tug of some corporate master, whether voluntarily, or not — and there are so many victims of global capitalism gone awry, aren’t there?

Last night I had three terrible dreams, and they were so vivid and so convincing that I must confess I woke up trembling with anxiety — I could feel my world crashing down on me. The mind is a terrible thing to taste, my dark lovelies, and mine is especially bitter. Take a trip with me (just don’t eat the brown acid) through the workings of my mutinous and cannibalistic mind, that had the audacity to attack me as I slept.

Dream #1: Father Dearest and the Sleepaway Camp of Death

My father was trying to kill me. Sadly, it does not take my mind much to conjure up this image — why, there are entire drawers in my subconscious full of suitable footage to be spliced together for this scene. Throughout the dream, I was varying ages — a child, a young adult, a woman — and my father was driving a big old boat of a car, racing up a dirt road to the cabins of some camp — I understood it to be a camp, though I’m not sure why. He was frothing at the mouth like a mad dog, and had enormous teeth and a long red snake-like tongue, with huge claws for hands.

I hid myself in a cabinet — a sort of wardrobe — only not the sort that leads to snowy lands full of fauns and heavy-handed allegory. I could hear him crashing through the halls of the cabin (which was apparently a great hall of Beowolf-esque proportions) raging and calling for me, killing anyone who got in his way and demanding that they release me to him. I couldn’t help but notice that my mother was by his side, quietly searching for me as well. I froze, and held my breath, and waited for what felt like forever until they moved on.

Now the twist. I had no idea how long I was there. When I went into the cabinet, I was a child. Suddenly the cabinet was opened, and some strange people pulled me out, and I couldn’t move — I was petrified, like wood, and I was a grown woman. I could hear them talking, wondering how long I had been in there, and how I could have survived.

I woke up and was flooded with terror — that I had lost so much time, like Rip Van Winkle — and that I had to find out what I had missed, what year it was, if my father was dead yet.

Let the psychoanalysis begin.

Dream #2: Throwing it All Away

I blame this one on a conversation with a friend about making mistakes and coming back from them — sometimes we do things so rash and ill advised that it feels we will never recover. I have been through the ringer in my life, and walked the cliff-edges and peered over. I have looked in the face of death and flinched, and yet I am still here.

But I know the feeling. And last night I woke with a tightness in my chest and a sickness in my belly that felt like the grip of a demon.

We all fantasize about telling our boss off, or throwing a tantrum at work, or perhaps even darker fantasies. My dream was staged like one of those tales where you only see the ending — the carnage that has been wrought, with no real explanation at first, and the story is told by trying to piece together what happened. In my dream, my life had fallen apart, and I was living on the street, smoking crack and turning tricks for money. A bit of an extreme turnabout, but in an almost Capra-esque fashion, I bumped into someone that I had previously worked with, and they took me back to my old office, and re-played for me what had happened, and it wasn’t extreme at all. I just simply stopped showing up. I supposed one morning, I just said fuck it, I’m not going to work anymore, and that was it.

When I woke, it was so real. I wondered what I was going to do today. It’s terrifying when dreams confuse your reality.

Dream #3: A Bathory Bath

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been terrified of skunks. Not because of rabies, but because someone once told me that if you get sprayed by a skunk, the only way to get rid of the smell is to take a bath in tomato juice.

So of course, last night, I dreamed that I got sprayed by a skunk. My servants (in my dream, I had servants) made me a bath, and bid me come and rid myself of the stench. Only not a minute after I submerged my naked body in the warm bath did I realize that it wasn’t tomato soup at all, but blood. I dreamed I was the Countess Elizabeth Bathory, and as I looked up, I was accosted by the dead and hanging bodies of dozens of young girls, their blood dripping down on my face.

I woke screaming and in need of a hot shower.

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28 responses to “Welcome to My Nightmares

  1. I had bad dreams last night, too, Darkling, though they weren’t nearly so bloodthirsty as yours.

    Used coffee grounds would also probably remove the skunk scent.

    Just be glad you dream…these were fascinating to read.

      • It was in a book by a chap called David Taylor, who made a tv series in the *mumbles*ies called ‘Zoo Vet’, and he’d gone to transport some elephants, when one of them peed on him. Elephant piss is STRONG stuff (apparently) and the recommendation was to rub himself all over with used coffee grounds to remove the scent.

        Extrapolating, I would assume it worth a try for skunk musk.

  2. Ok let me attement an psychoanalysis: …… No never mind I think I’m not quialified. I think even Freud would have problems analyising that…

    But your dreams definalty made for an interesting read. 😉

  3. I think, that if I had dreams like these, I would die from fright. Yep, I would be one of those people you read about in National Inquirer that died of fright in their sleep and the reason that anyone would know this is because I would come back as a spirit to share the news.

  4. As a silver lining, I hear blood is just as good for getting rid of the skunk smell. Or at least, the smell’s not the first thing people notice when you’re wandering around covered in blood.
    I hope you dream happy dreams tonight.

  5. Skunks are awesome! Ever see one walking down a sidewalk? They know damn well that the people coming from the opposite direction will cross the street to avoid them, so they have no fear.

    I have strange reoccurring dreams, one of which is that sometime in the past, I killed one or several people and it’s only a matter of time until that dark past gets uncovered. The dreams along those lines take several forms. The other night, I dreamed I was arrested for something stupid. I don’t remember what the charge was, but I remember having a conversation with the cop arresting me where I pointed out how stupid the charge was and that it was just going to be thrown out. He agreed with me, but took me in anyway. In the squad car on the way to the police station, all I could think of was … “Great! Now their going to have my fingerprints … and they’re going to find out about the bodies …”

    • Oh, you should never say that. Cops have no sense of humour about that. I found out the hard way…

      • Doh! 🙂

        For the record, I’ve never actually been arrested. I also don’t have a bunch of bodies in my wake. However, whenever I have one of these dreams, the dream feels so real that when I wake up I tend to lay there a bit trying to remember back … in case I used to be a serial killer and just somehow forgot about it.

      • The worst is when you’re with someone and you have what I call “The Cheating Dream”… a sexual dream SO real — but not starring the person you’re with — that you wake up feeling guilty because you think you actually cheated on your partner.

  6. I’m usually beset by angst dreams, you know, the ones where you trying to find the conference room where you’re supposed to be giving a presentation and you’re late and lost and it just goes on and on and on. Or spiders. I have a spider phobia. I can’t watch movies with spiders in them (especially large ones attacking people) because then I’ll have a nightmare about them. I have to admit I enjoyed your Countess of Bathory dream 😉 I wrote a college term paper on her many decades ago. I likened Elizabeth and Vlad and a few other vampires of lore to the vampires of our current political and corporate system. In all honesty, I just wanted to write a paper about vampires. The political angle was just to make it acceptable to my professor 🙂
    Sweet dreams … ah, yes, even you, Jessica, deserves sweet dreams.

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