Just what everyone wants
Currently | winding down |
Another glimpse into my head! I had one of the weirdest, freakiest dreams I’ve had in a while during the early morning hours today.
I was at work, with all my regular co-workers, and we all had our signature work colors on. But the store wasn’t the store we’re currently at. It was here in my hometown, in the location of another store, and wasn’t decorated as the inside of my place of employment. But I know it is, because all my bosses and co-workers are there. We, and by “we” I suppose I mean myself and some other co-workers, tell one of our bosses we think she’s pregnant. And she insists she is not. That bears no relevance whatsoever to the rest of the dream, and I am not sure why it was there in the first place, because the dream took a weird turn after that.
I was towards the back of the store doing something, and I looked up at the checklanes and one of the men waiting in one of the lines turned around and nearly felled me with his creepy stare. He locked eyes with mine, then turned back around, and I noticed that some of the back of his head was missing, and a brownish, bloodyish goo was seeping from the wound, rolling down his back, and pooling into the floor behind him.
I ran up to the man to offer assistance, and he turned around and locked eyes with mine again and gives me that creepy stare. At that point, I realize he’s not even really human, and that no one else sees him. I turn and run back into the store, and he comes after me, much like a zombie. He isn’t fast, but every corner I turn, there he is. He never quite catches me, despite me slipping and sliding in the goo he’s dripping all over the place.
No one notices me running, no one notices the man, everyone is walking in and around this viscous stuff he’s leaving everywhere he goes, and they’re tracking it everywhere, oblivious to it all.
I eventually made it through the front door of the store and RAN all the way to my home, a considerable distance from the store. At that point I woke up gasping for air, and feeling like I’d been run over by a truck.
I usually don’t know where my dreams come from, but I totally understand where some elements of this one came from: in the novel I’m reading now, the hero has a scar along the back of his head where he suffered some sort of wound. And earlier, I had read a story of a woman who was recently kidnapped and murdered, and several people had seen that poor woman struggling in her captor’s car, and no one made any effort to help her. I assume that’s where my running from the man and no one seeming to notice any of it came from.
I spent most of my workday being quite zombie-like myself, due to my poor sleep last night!
Originally published at devilishsouthernbelle.net. You can comment here or there.