(no subject)
before she tested positive, i never dreamed of corpses.
it's been a long time since then, though. long time in terms of my age. it's been three years that she's been *living with. three years that i've been scarcely present for.
which used to bother me and now just seems, well, the way things are. not bothersome, not sad, not good. just... the way things are.
but beCAUSE of my lack of involvement in her life/illness, i am becoming increasingly frustrated by my inability to STOP DREAMING OF CORPSES. it started when she found out she was sick and i went to therapy about it for a year and then it subsided for a little while and started up again and again and again.
these past few days have been awful.
first there was the dream of walking into the kitchen. the light wouldn't turn on. i flicked it on and off a few times and it started to flicker in that creepy fluorescent drop-ceiling light kind of way. and when the light finally came on, it was like gravity disappeared. the kitchen was covered in...water? and it was all RISING, dripping UPWARDS. and it got so COLD and i was scared so i peaked into the bedrooms next to the kitchen: in one, a super thin blonde woman with bleach blonde hair (almost white), writhing around on the bed. in the other, a little boy, doing the same. writhing around in blood that was also dripping upwards. hair, too, rising like snakes. and they were *reaching for me, crying and reaching for me and that's when i was woken up for making sounds. apparently i was covered in goose bumps.
then last night. i'm having a hard time remembering exactly, but i was part of a family and the father was killing us all, putting bullets straight through our heads. very calmly. and then he'd clean up, so carefully. there was white carpet and i remember (i must have been the last to go?) walking down the hallway and stepping around the blood spots. there wasn't much, though-- i remember thinking that it wouldn't be hard to clean that up, just a little white vinegar... and he was just piling our bodies up together, like a battle scene or something. i played with time in it, too-- i saw a few of us die and then i saw the father (my father?) dead. he had shot himself in the head, too, and his head had opened so that it looked like a jellyfish was emerging from his ear. he was underwater, too, when i saw him, moving with the current so it really *did look like this bright red jellfish, these long tendrils swaying in the water. and then i shut that off and returned to before he was dead, while he was still killing us all. disgusting. but his eyes were open underwater and watching me and the jellyfish in his head was pumping along, moving him fast.
these aren't as bad as they have been. but i feel like i'm taking steps back every time i have one of these dreams. and i feel like i'm taking leaps back when i have more than one in a row. so i'm pissed off right now. like, she's GONE. she's alive and she's GONE. WHY AM I STILL DREAMING THIS?
it's been a long time since then, though. long time in terms of my age. it's been three years that she's been *living with. three years that i've been scarcely present for.
which used to bother me and now just seems, well, the way things are. not bothersome, not sad, not good. just... the way things are.
but beCAUSE of my lack of involvement in her life/illness, i am becoming increasingly frustrated by my inability to STOP DREAMING OF CORPSES. it started when she found out she was sick and i went to therapy about it for a year and then it subsided for a little while and started up again and again and again.
these past few days have been awful.
first there was the dream of walking into the kitchen. the light wouldn't turn on. i flicked it on and off a few times and it started to flicker in that creepy fluorescent drop-ceiling light kind of way. and when the light finally came on, it was like gravity disappeared. the kitchen was covered in...water? and it was all RISING, dripping UPWARDS. and it got so COLD and i was scared so i peaked into the bedrooms next to the kitchen: in one, a super thin blonde woman with bleach blonde hair (almost white), writhing around on the bed. in the other, a little boy, doing the same. writhing around in blood that was also dripping upwards. hair, too, rising like snakes. and they were *reaching for me, crying and reaching for me and that's when i was woken up for making sounds. apparently i was covered in goose bumps.
then last night. i'm having a hard time remembering exactly, but i was part of a family and the father was killing us all, putting bullets straight through our heads. very calmly. and then he'd clean up, so carefully. there was white carpet and i remember (i must have been the last to go?) walking down the hallway and stepping around the blood spots. there wasn't much, though-- i remember thinking that it wouldn't be hard to clean that up, just a little white vinegar... and he was just piling our bodies up together, like a battle scene or something. i played with time in it, too-- i saw a few of us die and then i saw the father (my father?) dead. he had shot himself in the head, too, and his head had opened so that it looked like a jellyfish was emerging from his ear. he was underwater, too, when i saw him, moving with the current so it really *did look like this bright red jellfish, these long tendrils swaying in the water. and then i shut that off and returned to before he was dead, while he was still killing us all. disgusting. but his eyes were open underwater and watching me and the jellyfish in his head was pumping along, moving him fast.
these aren't as bad as they have been. but i feel like i'm taking steps back every time i have one of these dreams. and i feel like i'm taking leaps back when i have more than one in a row. so i'm pissed off right now. like, she's GONE. she's alive and she's GONE. WHY AM I STILL DREAMING THIS?