Dreams
I had a long, continuous dream early this morning, and it was so intense that I just lay there when I woke from it, and couldn't get myself to get out of bed. The main character was a child at the end, and so I think I still had that kind of childish vulnerability when I woke. She was me in the beginning, and then the story changed and became kind of Alice In Wonderland-y, but darker, and the girl was about the age of Sarah Polley's character in Terry Gilliam's "Baron Munchausen." In fact I think the character in my dream was based on that one.
At first, as I said, I was me, and it was terrible. I felt and behaved like I was in Effexor withdrawal, I was at work, doing the run, but things went wrong and I and everyone else was awful. I went to dad's old house on Bentley Place to get some things I had stored there, and Philip was there, and at some point we were in a downtown area, I think it was loosely based on Asheville, based on the hills and the indoor arcades, and just the Bohemian feel. It was so, so crowded, I think there was an outdoor festival of some kind. Philip and I would hang around in these groups of people, and I felt so awful I kept going away without saying anything, and then he would follow me, but he was frustrated because it was embarrassing for him that I was being so antisocial. And I knew that I wasn't behaving right, but I just kept trying to get away, always trying to get away, like that nagging feeling of "wanting to go home," that I would get when I was depressed as a young adolescent. There was an interlude, a sort of unrelated story that was actually pretty long and involved and the details of which I don't really remember, and then the part with the child, the little girl. There were two starts to the story, one was the older Me walking through this indoor arcade full of people dressed up in costumes, as for a masquerade or a play (and there was a theatre and a play taking place, a children's troupe mostly), and a long open area with art on display, but I wasn't interested in looking at it. And then it was the little girl. Her story also began in her home, an old Victorian on a hill, and her grandfather did look kind of like David Neville who played the Baron in Gilliam's film. For some reason or another she was sitting out on the porch, after he talked with her for a while she went away, I forget why. She just ran off, either compelled to or just one of those things spoiled little girls do in stories. And there was an evil, a dark force, and she was in the arcade where I had been. So you see her story has two beginnings. She didn't feel the depression I had felt, but there was a sense of dread, of having no control, of things happening that were beyond her understanding. She had to wander, seeking something. I don't remember if it was something real, or maybe she was just trying to get out. She got trapped in the house, though -- I guess it was kind of Coraline-y, too -- and a small bee helped her find the way home, lighting the way through snowdrifts -- it was winter, you see -- through other peoples' yards, back to her home. And she ran up, and there was her grandfather on the porch, talking to her -- like the time travel in Harry Potter -- so she had to wait until he had gone, and her other self had run off again to resume her place in the same place in time (presumably) she had left.
It's stress, it always is. I've not had such intense feeling of dread in my dreams in a while, though, and it really did shake me. First it was depression, being out of control within myself, and then it was the child, with no control over her environment. Which is really more unsettling?
At first, as I said, I was me, and it was terrible. I felt and behaved like I was in Effexor withdrawal, I was at work, doing the run, but things went wrong and I and everyone else was awful. I went to dad's old house on Bentley Place to get some things I had stored there, and Philip was there, and at some point we were in a downtown area, I think it was loosely based on Asheville, based on the hills and the indoor arcades, and just the Bohemian feel. It was so, so crowded, I think there was an outdoor festival of some kind. Philip and I would hang around in these groups of people, and I felt so awful I kept going away without saying anything, and then he would follow me, but he was frustrated because it was embarrassing for him that I was being so antisocial. And I knew that I wasn't behaving right, but I just kept trying to get away, always trying to get away, like that nagging feeling of "wanting to go home," that I would get when I was depressed as a young adolescent. There was an interlude, a sort of unrelated story that was actually pretty long and involved and the details of which I don't really remember, and then the part with the child, the little girl. There were two starts to the story, one was the older Me walking through this indoor arcade full of people dressed up in costumes, as for a masquerade or a play (and there was a theatre and a play taking place, a children's troupe mostly), and a long open area with art on display, but I wasn't interested in looking at it. And then it was the little girl. Her story also began in her home, an old Victorian on a hill, and her grandfather did look kind of like David Neville who played the Baron in Gilliam's film. For some reason or another she was sitting out on the porch, after he talked with her for a while she went away, I forget why. She just ran off, either compelled to or just one of those things spoiled little girls do in stories. And there was an evil, a dark force, and she was in the arcade where I had been. So you see her story has two beginnings. She didn't feel the depression I had felt, but there was a sense of dread, of having no control, of things happening that were beyond her understanding. She had to wander, seeking something. I don't remember if it was something real, or maybe she was just trying to get out. She got trapped in the house, though -- I guess it was kind of Coraline-y, too -- and a small bee helped her find the way home, lighting the way through snowdrifts -- it was winter, you see -- through other peoples' yards, back to her home. And she ran up, and there was her grandfather on the porch, talking to her -- like the time travel in Harry Potter -- so she had to wait until he had gone, and her other self had run off again to resume her place in the same place in time (presumably) she had left.
It's stress, it always is. I've not had such intense feeling of dread in my dreams in a while, though, and it really did shake me. First it was depression, being out of control within myself, and then it was the child, with no control over her environment. Which is really more unsettling?