Bad Dreams
I don't get 'em often, but when I do, they tend to be doozies. Given that even my regular dreams tend to be more than a little bizarre and surreal, it takes some extra for it to get to me when a dream's unpleasant. The one that hit last night/this morning really shook me hard, or at least part of it did. In this case, most of my dream had involved doing stuff with a couple of other people, exploring coasts, trying to survive harsh weather and getting lost at sea, etc. I wrote this out right after waking up, just so I could remember the detail of it, so sorry if it seems a little incoherent:
After leaving that, it somehow went into this old house. We were wandering through it some, trying to figure out how the Hell we had gotten there and what was going on. There were two people living there, it seemed, a mother and her daughter. As we went through the house, though, it started getting apparent that it was haunted. There were lots of screams and doors banging shut and plenty of places where there were eerie, chilled feelings. I don’t recall exactly how, but part of what we found out was that the place really was haunted, in a sense. The man who’d owned it had somehow been able to perfect the idea of doing cloning and transferring someone’s spirit from one body to the next. He’d essentially come up with a serialized version of immortality. What’d really sucked was that he was also a pedophile. So he’d taken to periodically cloning his wife and then putting her spirit into her young body so he could molest her once their daughter was too old for his tastes anymore. Then he’d do the same with the daughter when he’d grown tired of his wife. On and on, over and over. No wonder those spirits were insane.
And they fought so hard to keep us from locking up the places that their spirts would have to go in order for the next round of cloning and spiritual transfer took place. I remember being chased by them through the house, and as I’d lock each of those four or five rooms, they’d be screaming louder and their appearances would get to be more grey and tattered and horrifying. It was almost as if their fear and anger and self-loathing was getting turned upon themselves, making their appearance more and more ugly and shattered, twisted and vengefully inhuman. It was because their fear and madness---all they'd ever really known or could remember---were being threatened. They’d gotten stuck in that pattern and more scared of the displeasure of that man than of hope for their own salvation and eventual release from that torment. And what was really bizarre was that the house itself seemed old and unused, like none of them had actually been alive in there for quite awhile, including the evil father!
And, try as hard as I could, I couldn’t get all of those doors locked. They were going to have to participate on their own salvation or be stuck in their own, now-chosen damnation....
I don't smoke anymore, and I'm glad for it. However, this is the kind of dream that'd propel me out the front door shortly after waking up and wanting to just go through the real, tangible routine of smoking a cigarette to get some distance from that particular dream. I'm not sure what my subconscious is trying to tell me, but at the moment it's not easy getting away from the dreadful feeling that, once in awhile, it likes poking me with the equivalent of a sharp stick to see me jump. Intellectually I know that's the case and I know the feeling will fade, but while I'm still waking up it's hard to just blow off.
Bleah....
Anyone else get bad dreams?
After leaving that, it somehow went into this old house. We were wandering through it some, trying to figure out how the Hell we had gotten there and what was going on. There were two people living there, it seemed, a mother and her daughter. As we went through the house, though, it started getting apparent that it was haunted. There were lots of screams and doors banging shut and plenty of places where there were eerie, chilled feelings. I don’t recall exactly how, but part of what we found out was that the place really was haunted, in a sense. The man who’d owned it had somehow been able to perfect the idea of doing cloning and transferring someone’s spirit from one body to the next. He’d essentially come up with a serialized version of immortality. What’d really sucked was that he was also a pedophile. So he’d taken to periodically cloning his wife and then putting her spirit into her young body so he could molest her once their daughter was too old for his tastes anymore. Then he’d do the same with the daughter when he’d grown tired of his wife. On and on, over and over. No wonder those spirits were insane.
And they fought so hard to keep us from locking up the places that their spirts would have to go in order for the next round of cloning and spiritual transfer took place. I remember being chased by them through the house, and as I’d lock each of those four or five rooms, they’d be screaming louder and their appearances would get to be more grey and tattered and horrifying. It was almost as if their fear and anger and self-loathing was getting turned upon themselves, making their appearance more and more ugly and shattered, twisted and vengefully inhuman. It was because their fear and madness---all they'd ever really known or could remember---were being threatened. They’d gotten stuck in that pattern and more scared of the displeasure of that man than of hope for their own salvation and eventual release from that torment. And what was really bizarre was that the house itself seemed old and unused, like none of them had actually been alive in there for quite awhile, including the evil father!
And, try as hard as I could, I couldn’t get all of those doors locked. They were going to have to participate on their own salvation or be stuck in their own, now-chosen damnation....
I don't smoke anymore, and I'm glad for it. However, this is the kind of dream that'd propel me out the front door shortly after waking up and wanting to just go through the real, tangible routine of smoking a cigarette to get some distance from that particular dream. I'm not sure what my subconscious is trying to tell me, but at the moment it's not easy getting away from the dreadful feeling that, once in awhile, it likes poking me with the equivalent of a sharp stick to see me jump. Intellectually I know that's the case and I know the feeling will fade, but while I'm still waking up it's hard to just blow off.
Bleah....
Anyone else get bad dreams?