nightmare
So I had this terrible dream last night.
It took place in my house, but my house was two stories instead of just one, and the entrance was upstairs. I don't know what the bottom level was, but the top was my regular house. It reminded me of Alaina's old place, if anyone remembers that.
My mom and I were in the driveway between our cars. Hers was parked next to the house an mine was off to the side, as usual. She was wearing her favourite colour, burgundy. There was a blanket of what had the consistency of slush on the ground. You could see footprints. I don't remember what it was we were talking about, but it had to do with our surroundings (the cars, the slush). Then a boxy, old, white van drove up.
At some point, my mother and I were separated. She went into the house.
In the van, there were two people, a man and a woman, both of whom were in their early to mid twenties. The guy was white and had an annoying white guy frizz 'fro and some facial hair (I sort of picture Oyster from Lullaby). He was loud and psychopathic. The girl was black and quiet, graceful and kind of earthy. She was somehow an established murderer herself, but I didn't get so much of a vicious vibe from her as I did a methodical one. There was some back story between the the pair. I don't know that they'd ever killed together before. All I knew was they were both murderers. I knew they were there to kill us.
I was cautiously talking to the girl outside. There was a lot of sand where I was sitting. It was night out, but my porch light was on. She was busy doing something. Organizing their belongings, weapons, something. I don't know. He came out to talk. He stood on the porch, speaking for a while when he noticed me, cautiously trying to ease my way under the house and out of his view. It's as though he didn't know I was there or he didn't know that I was still alive. He said to the girl, "Why didn't you take care of her?" or something along those lines and started down towards me. He had blood on his clothing and it looked as though he had wiped a lot off of his arms. I was terrified, but somehow managed to ask if he'd killed my mother. He said he had in a matter-of-fact kind of way. I was and am surprised by my decision to not try and run upstairs and see for myself. I don't know how I knew, but I was certain he had sexually assaulted her before and/or after killing her, and I knew the way he'd killed her left a lot of blood in whatever room(s) the attack had taken place. I guess I knew I couldn't see that.
When I woke up from this dream this morning, at 8am, I was almost ready to cry. The dream was too real and I felt sick. I was mentally fatigued enough to fall back into unconsciousness before my urge to get up and walk down the hall to my mother's room took control. I wondered if maybe something had happened to her in her sleep. I just couldn't check. She has more faith in my dreams' meanings than I ever could.
She's fine, but I still feel uneasy. The people in the van seemed too real to me, like that man I don't often like to talk about used to seem. It'll probably go away within the week, but I feel as though they were here at some point, like I'm remembering actual people I wish didn't exist but do.
My mother never dreams, but last night she dreamt there were cows in our back yard eating grass, and that when a deer came into the yard, the cows started to eat the dear.
I can't help but feel something's kind of wrong.
It took place in my house, but my house was two stories instead of just one, and the entrance was upstairs. I don't know what the bottom level was, but the top was my regular house. It reminded me of Alaina's old place, if anyone remembers that.
My mom and I were in the driveway between our cars. Hers was parked next to the house an mine was off to the side, as usual. She was wearing her favourite colour, burgundy. There was a blanket of what had the consistency of slush on the ground. You could see footprints. I don't remember what it was we were talking about, but it had to do with our surroundings (the cars, the slush). Then a boxy, old, white van drove up.
At some point, my mother and I were separated. She went into the house.
In the van, there were two people, a man and a woman, both of whom were in their early to mid twenties. The guy was white and had an annoying white guy frizz 'fro and some facial hair (I sort of picture Oyster from Lullaby). He was loud and psychopathic. The girl was black and quiet, graceful and kind of earthy. She was somehow an established murderer herself, but I didn't get so much of a vicious vibe from her as I did a methodical one. There was some back story between the the pair. I don't know that they'd ever killed together before. All I knew was they were both murderers. I knew they were there to kill us.
I was cautiously talking to the girl outside. There was a lot of sand where I was sitting. It was night out, but my porch light was on. She was busy doing something. Organizing their belongings, weapons, something. I don't know. He came out to talk. He stood on the porch, speaking for a while when he noticed me, cautiously trying to ease my way under the house and out of his view. It's as though he didn't know I was there or he didn't know that I was still alive. He said to the girl, "Why didn't you take care of her?" or something along those lines and started down towards me. He had blood on his clothing and it looked as though he had wiped a lot off of his arms. I was terrified, but somehow managed to ask if he'd killed my mother. He said he had in a matter-of-fact kind of way. I was and am surprised by my decision to not try and run upstairs and see for myself. I don't know how I knew, but I was certain he had sexually assaulted her before and/or after killing her, and I knew the way he'd killed her left a lot of blood in whatever room(s) the attack had taken place. I guess I knew I couldn't see that.
When I woke up from this dream this morning, at 8am, I was almost ready to cry. The dream was too real and I felt sick. I was mentally fatigued enough to fall back into unconsciousness before my urge to get up and walk down the hall to my mother's room took control. I wondered if maybe something had happened to her in her sleep. I just couldn't check. She has more faith in my dreams' meanings than I ever could.
She's fine, but I still feel uneasy. The people in the van seemed too real to me, like that man I don't often like to talk about used to seem. It'll probably go away within the week, but I feel as though they were here at some point, like I'm remembering actual people I wish didn't exist but do.
My mother never dreams, but last night she dreamt there were cows in our back yard eating grass, and that when a deer came into the yard, the cows started to eat the dear.
I can't help but feel something's kind of wrong.