Dreaming again
Dreaming, always dreaming… and not of the fanciful sort that generally overtake my sleep, but something heavier… something that leaves me awake and thinking, and always drawn back to sleep in hope of seeing those things again. Drawn back… not necessarily of my own desire, but pulled, sometimes like it’s more that something that was there would like to see me there again.
The first night was a disturbing phantasmagoria. There was so much running… and I think it began to set up when I was in this house (which reoccurred a few times, but at the particular moment of which I speak, I was staying in it with my family). A group… half dozen or so… or burglars made their way into our house. Somehow, I don’t recall them threatening us… but myself and a few other people who now I cannot remember gave them a lot of trouble. Overflowed toilets, rattled things, just generally caused a ruckus. Through all of this, a few of them ended up befriending me. I rather think they were more like pirates, now, that burglars.
A little later, I had driven my car (which had two speeds: stopped and fast.) whose brakes weren’t working well, to this low house of three or four one-story rooms. There were some people that, supposedly, I knew there and something else in the house… all I know about it was that it had this big blackish brown hand sort of appendage, and it ate people, and I heard them screaming and screaming and then muffled and quiet from their rooms. It seemed like all the other people were robots, or scripted for some film. No matter that I did, or said, they would always do and say the same things in response. That was both frustrating, and frightening, so I left.
I think it was around this point that I was aware that I was dreaming. This, however, did not seem to matter… because a very key part of why I was there was that the dream was every bit as important, and influential, as reality. The only difference it made that I was dreaming was that things behaved a little bit differently in the dream world than in the hard world.
In between the chunks of this dream I was having conversations with people, I think as if I were home talking on the Internet as I usually do (like right now). I don’t know if these spaces of conversation blended logically into the dream or not, but they might have. The part I remember most distinctly (and very distinctly, I might add) was talking to an online friend of mine who has just chosen to get engaged… and he said something about not being able to do much because he had school, work, and an ex wife to deal with.
The third and final major part that I recall was back at that house. Someone else was living in it, and the outside surroundings had changed drastically. It was on this ridiculously high sort of bluff that I had to climb to get to. I was following two of the burglar-pirates up, two that I knew best, but they hadn’t realized I was there until I was standing next to them in the foyer of the house. This disgruntled looking twenty-something black woman had come in, and was wondering what we were doing in her house, when I spoke up from behind the two men, telling her that they were burglars and what she needed to do about it. They, half hearted in the job anyway, turned rather surprised to see me. I remember what they look like… one was short (but taller than me) and balding slightly… the rest of his hair was curly orange-gold. The other was taller and bigger, with a shaved head, and looked rather like Vin Diesel. At this point, the Vin Diesel guy looked at me very concernedly and put his hand, rather tenderly, on my left cheek. We left the house, and as we started stumbling down this bluff, there was this vehicle in the icy cull de sac below. It looked like some hybrid of a black limousine blended smoothly back to the backend of a UPS truck. Despite our height, I could see that the man in the passenger seat was dressed in shades, a black suit, and carrying a machine gun. Despite the presence of a windshield in front of him, that machine gun was being waved at, and subsequently aimed at, us. I told the two other men to run and started plunging down the hill toward the woods on the left side of the cull de sac. The dream got very slow and heavy, in the familiar feeling of trying to run and not being able to. We broke through the perimeter of the wood, and at that point, only one of them was following me and there was gunfire behind us, gaining. Suddenly, it was not the Vin Diesel guy; it was my boy (the Tiger), which was perfectly natural, in the dream. We ran a little further through the woods, as I kept telling myself that my seeming inability to run was simply due to the dream issue… I was in a dream, I just had to keep running and I’d be all right. I was just feeling like I couldn’t run. The ground dropped off four feet or so to a path, and we stopped. I talked a little with the tiger. We walked along the edge of this path, again going left, and presently I found a purse much like my own (with different contents which I didn’t look at closely) and a small, very strange looking firearm (I have since had the waking discussion with the tiger that I wasn’t being prim, but that I couldn’t well call it a –gun- because it wasn’t… It was a firearm. We agree now). I picked both up, so that anyone trying to return to them would think they were just lost, and that the firearm (which I handed to my boyo) hadn’t just been picked up. We continued walking… a bit later, down the path, there was a small group of people being lead with their hands behind their heads, and, I think, more men with guns… we stopped at this point, and the dream started to break up… consciousness won.
The first night was a disturbing phantasmagoria. There was so much running… and I think it began to set up when I was in this house (which reoccurred a few times, but at the particular moment of which I speak, I was staying in it with my family). A group… half dozen or so… or burglars made their way into our house. Somehow, I don’t recall them threatening us… but myself and a few other people who now I cannot remember gave them a lot of trouble. Overflowed toilets, rattled things, just generally caused a ruckus. Through all of this, a few of them ended up befriending me. I rather think they were more like pirates, now, that burglars.
A little later, I had driven my car (which had two speeds: stopped and fast.) whose brakes weren’t working well, to this low house of three or four one-story rooms. There were some people that, supposedly, I knew there and something else in the house… all I know about it was that it had this big blackish brown hand sort of appendage, and it ate people, and I heard them screaming and screaming and then muffled and quiet from their rooms. It seemed like all the other people were robots, or scripted for some film. No matter that I did, or said, they would always do and say the same things in response. That was both frustrating, and frightening, so I left.
I think it was around this point that I was aware that I was dreaming. This, however, did not seem to matter… because a very key part of why I was there was that the dream was every bit as important, and influential, as reality. The only difference it made that I was dreaming was that things behaved a little bit differently in the dream world than in the hard world.
In between the chunks of this dream I was having conversations with people, I think as if I were home talking on the Internet as I usually do (like right now). I don’t know if these spaces of conversation blended logically into the dream or not, but they might have. The part I remember most distinctly (and very distinctly, I might add) was talking to an online friend of mine who has just chosen to get engaged… and he said something about not being able to do much because he had school, work, and an ex wife to deal with.
The third and final major part that I recall was back at that house. Someone else was living in it, and the outside surroundings had changed drastically. It was on this ridiculously high sort of bluff that I had to climb to get to. I was following two of the burglar-pirates up, two that I knew best, but they hadn’t realized I was there until I was standing next to them in the foyer of the house. This disgruntled looking twenty-something black woman had come in, and was wondering what we were doing in her house, when I spoke up from behind the two men, telling her that they were burglars and what she needed to do about it. They, half hearted in the job anyway, turned rather surprised to see me. I remember what they look like… one was short (but taller than me) and balding slightly… the rest of his hair was curly orange-gold. The other was taller and bigger, with a shaved head, and looked rather like Vin Diesel. At this point, the Vin Diesel guy looked at me very concernedly and put his hand, rather tenderly, on my left cheek. We left the house, and as we started stumbling down this bluff, there was this vehicle in the icy cull de sac below. It looked like some hybrid of a black limousine blended smoothly back to the backend of a UPS truck. Despite our height, I could see that the man in the passenger seat was dressed in shades, a black suit, and carrying a machine gun. Despite the presence of a windshield in front of him, that machine gun was being waved at, and subsequently aimed at, us. I told the two other men to run and started plunging down the hill toward the woods on the left side of the cull de sac. The dream got very slow and heavy, in the familiar feeling of trying to run and not being able to. We broke through the perimeter of the wood, and at that point, only one of them was following me and there was gunfire behind us, gaining. Suddenly, it was not the Vin Diesel guy; it was my boy (the Tiger), which was perfectly natural, in the dream. We ran a little further through the woods, as I kept telling myself that my seeming inability to run was simply due to the dream issue… I was in a dream, I just had to keep running and I’d be all right. I was just feeling like I couldn’t run. The ground dropped off four feet or so to a path, and we stopped. I talked a little with the tiger. We walked along the edge of this path, again going left, and presently I found a purse much like my own (with different contents which I didn’t look at closely) and a small, very strange looking firearm (I have since had the waking discussion with the tiger that I wasn’t being prim, but that I couldn’t well call it a –gun- because it wasn’t… It was a firearm. We agree now). I picked both up, so that anyone trying to return to them would think they were just lost, and that the firearm (which I handed to my boyo) hadn’t just been picked up. We continued walking… a bit later, down the path, there was a small group of people being lead with their hands behind their heads, and, I think, more men with guns… we stopped at this point, and the dream started to break up… consciousness won.