nightmare
My dreaming was fine until I got lost from the weight loss group. We had gone back stage to find the host and after he gave a pep talk to the group, sent them through a door. But I got distracted by something and when I went to the door, it was locked. I tried some doors around it, but they didn't open, either. I went back to the host who was now dressed in a stained wife beater and boxers and the rooms were different - a dingy apartment steeped in dread. He had a new, creepy intensity and quizzed me on my life and my progress on the show. He seemed pleased. "I didn't expect you to be the successful one. You're so compliant. Come find me. We'll see where to go from there." He locked the door as he left. The door that went back to the hallway that would take me back to the studio.
I look around me at the brown woven70's era furniture, the scent of some sort of animal musk heavy in the air. I'm drawn to an aquarium in the living room and as I approach I realize that the patterned rug I though it stood on is really just littered with bug shells. And the chittering, clicking sound of teeth and jaws clacking gets louder. What might have been plants and fish swimming become bugs and bugs and bugs in the tank. Crawling on a human arm with a ragged end dropped in the tank and over each other and over the sides and onto the floor. The largest ones seem to take an interest in me as I peer at them and they start crawling up the glass sides so I turn to where the front door would be and there's a cement mixer with a lock combination on the hatch that isn't locked. I open it up, thinking that the bottom might have a way out, but find more body parts and bugs.
The window is easy to break, though, and I get out on the landing without cutting myself, but I feel the pop-squish of bugs as I step on piles of them. The landing morphs from an exterior balcony with fresh air and escape to an interior hallway lined with more doors and disturbing sounds screams, grinding, sharpening, laughing. I pick one that doesn't sound too dangerous and am attacked by something that I kill pretty quickly. I run down some stairs, through rooms and hallways. A maze filled with things jumping out at me, catching my cloths or hair and I'm dodging and killing them while leaping over holes, sliding down railings and exposed plumbing, working my way down to what I hope is freedom. I know that if I just touch the ground I'll be free.
I jump over a hand rail and spin myself to the landing several floors down by spinning myself around hand rails and I land in what looks like a dining room. It has a giant table, but only three chairs and blood stains the wood and floor around. And in the kitchen pass through, the tv show host's head pops up and he sees me. Delight fills his face "Look, here, Jr - she's survived it all. Go tell your mom she's going to have as many girls as she wants - an army of strong, smart girls!" and he pulls up a gun and takes aim at me. Instead of running away I run at him, dodging away from the bullets and I tear up a part of the balister, pointing the giant hunk of wood at him, keeping the wide, thick end pointed at the gun to at least slow down the bullets and I run into the kitchen. There's now a wall separating the gun totting host and myself, so he's stopped shooting, but he's started yelling his excitement "look at her go! Oh, yeah, she's gonna make your mother so happy!" And I slide down a hallway past the door to the kitchen (where the host takes another couple shots at me) and into the utility room where there is a small boy with a paring knife in his hand. "Don't let her out, Jr. Just kill her now and we'll clone her later!" his dad yells. I throw the chunk of wood at the host as soon as I see his head and I hear him slam to the ground and cry out in pain.
Now there is just me and the boy in this small room. The boy between me and the door out. I can see trees through the window in the door. I rush him and push him to the side, easily avoiding his knife, as I run to the door. Just to find it locked. I look for something to throw at the window, to break it and escape. But there is nothing there - just me and the small boy. I hear the host getting up. He's yelling at the top of his lungs and I hear running footsteps approaching from all through the house and the bullets being reloaded in his gun. I am running out of time.
I grab the kid by the wrist and ankle, knocking the knife out of his hand and I start spinning in place, gathering momentum with each turn and throw his little body at the window. I don't watch what happens. Before he hits, I imagine what I've done to him in exquisite detail - either sent him through the glass to get sliced up, or slammed him into the door, his bones breaking and his body falling to the floor in a heap.
I wake up before I know if I'm free or not.
I look around me at the brown woven70's era furniture, the scent of some sort of animal musk heavy in the air. I'm drawn to an aquarium in the living room and as I approach I realize that the patterned rug I though it stood on is really just littered with bug shells. And the chittering, clicking sound of teeth and jaws clacking gets louder. What might have been plants and fish swimming become bugs and bugs and bugs in the tank. Crawling on a human arm with a ragged end dropped in the tank and over each other and over the sides and onto the floor. The largest ones seem to take an interest in me as I peer at them and they start crawling up the glass sides so I turn to where the front door would be and there's a cement mixer with a lock combination on the hatch that isn't locked. I open it up, thinking that the bottom might have a way out, but find more body parts and bugs.
The window is easy to break, though, and I get out on the landing without cutting myself, but I feel the pop-squish of bugs as I step on piles of them. The landing morphs from an exterior balcony with fresh air and escape to an interior hallway lined with more doors and disturbing sounds screams, grinding, sharpening, laughing. I pick one that doesn't sound too dangerous and am attacked by something that I kill pretty quickly. I run down some stairs, through rooms and hallways. A maze filled with things jumping out at me, catching my cloths or hair and I'm dodging and killing them while leaping over holes, sliding down railings and exposed plumbing, working my way down to what I hope is freedom. I know that if I just touch the ground I'll be free.
I jump over a hand rail and spin myself to the landing several floors down by spinning myself around hand rails and I land in what looks like a dining room. It has a giant table, but only three chairs and blood stains the wood and floor around. And in the kitchen pass through, the tv show host's head pops up and he sees me. Delight fills his face "Look, here, Jr - she's survived it all. Go tell your mom she's going to have as many girls as she wants - an army of strong, smart girls!" and he pulls up a gun and takes aim at me. Instead of running away I run at him, dodging away from the bullets and I tear up a part of the balister, pointing the giant hunk of wood at him, keeping the wide, thick end pointed at the gun to at least slow down the bullets and I run into the kitchen. There's now a wall separating the gun totting host and myself, so he's stopped shooting, but he's started yelling his excitement "look at her go! Oh, yeah, she's gonna make your mother so happy!" And I slide down a hallway past the door to the kitchen (where the host takes another couple shots at me) and into the utility room where there is a small boy with a paring knife in his hand. "Don't let her out, Jr. Just kill her now and we'll clone her later!" his dad yells. I throw the chunk of wood at the host as soon as I see his head and I hear him slam to the ground and cry out in pain.
Now there is just me and the boy in this small room. The boy between me and the door out. I can see trees through the window in the door. I rush him and push him to the side, easily avoiding his knife, as I run to the door. Just to find it locked. I look for something to throw at the window, to break it and escape. But there is nothing there - just me and the small boy. I hear the host getting up. He's yelling at the top of his lungs and I hear running footsteps approaching from all through the house and the bullets being reloaded in his gun. I am running out of time.
I grab the kid by the wrist and ankle, knocking the knife out of his hand and I start spinning in place, gathering momentum with each turn and throw his little body at the window. I don't watch what happens. Before he hits, I imagine what I've done to him in exquisite detail - either sent him through the glass to get sliced up, or slammed him into the door, his bones breaking and his body falling to the floor in a heap.
I wake up before I know if I'm free or not.