Dying
So yeah, the cat has been a lot more quiet last weekend - I only woke up four times between 1-5 on Saturday and possibly thrice on Sunday from 2-9. So now that that episode has ended (next weekend she'll be back at my brother's place), naturally a new one has already come to take its place. I am remembering my dreams. That's right, I've been trying so hard for the last 8 years to remember them, from meditation to a dream diary to pretty much everything, and now it just unexpectedly made its way into my life. Of course, now that I'm about to write about it, I've completely forgotten the dream of Saturday, but Sunday's dream is still there pretty much.
Being the forgetful moron that I am, I of course completely forgot how fucked up my dreams tend to be and how shaken they leave me after waking up - a more recent event that people might remember is watching my family members die in horrible 'Supernatural'-esque ways! Luckily I can only remember one of those, partially, most I forgot the day after. (At this point, Saturday's dream is being remembered, so I'ma switch dreams!)
Saturday's was weird, but not at all freaky. As a matter of fact, it was kind of soothing in a way. I don't think I've ever told anyone this, but I don't ever want to live in a place that's situated more than (roughly) 5 floors above ground level. I'm fine with the apartment, I still pretty much live at ground level and I get to walk some stairs, which is always good for health. In my dream, however, the apartment was moved - from the first floor to the 14th. Putting aside for a second that the apartment only counts 5 floors, ground floor included, that seemed to put me about at cloud level (makes perfect sense), where I couldn't hear the sounds of the city at all anymore, which was weird as the 14th floor apparently had no safety rail of any kind. It was a very relaxing dream which left me very wound up in the morning nonetheless.
Sunday was a whole new level of odd. Apparently I was back in 2009, shortly after the volatiles department had moved to the new lab. For some reason we were collectively checking the machinery, which made me feel at ease. However, I seemed to be really getting along with everyone, which pretty much made it clear that it was a dream. I realize this and walk out through the double doors to end up in a place I end up more often - my old school, one level above the entrance. I make my way outside to be picked up by two people I apparently know very well.
We make our way to our hide-out over this bumpy road and hit an old man with a kid. The kid was crying, and the old man in need of a spade to the face, or so I was told. All I could do at that time was spare the kid the vision of his father having his face pancaked, but we had to act fast, as there was a police car on our trail. Or maybe not ours, but if they witnessed this body there would be questions and we didn't have time for that. Essentially, we turn this father into a speed bump (I could still see his face, which had healed, apparently) and we make it to the hide-out.
We're watching some TV when one of the guys pulls out a gun, loads it, ejects the mag, and proceeds by shooting the TV (cue lots of screaming and what the fucks). He then puts the gun to his head, nose-height and about 45 degrees in (that's ok, a pipe only takes one bullet and I can clearly see the magazine is no longer in the gun!), pulls the trigger and blows out a part of his brain. Apparently that wasn't weird enough, so he puts the gun underneath his chin (At this point I'm completely puzzled as per to how a pipe can fit two bullets without firing off simultaneously), and turns his neck into a bloody red fountain. gore ends up everywhere. I wake up slightly more shaken from this dream, roughly 10 minutes before I had to get up this morning.
The weird thing is, that I always seem to remember the fucked up dreams that I have, so where did the apartment dream come from? Was I about to dive off that unsecured floor? Why are my dreams this fucked up anyway? I feel like I'm dying right now. The sleep I got was insufficient. The mice incident has left me oversensitive to sounds like settling materials, drops of water in the air conditioning and traffic outside (which for the record, there hardly was for a change!). After the whole cat thing, I now have these dreams again, and for some reason, I feel I can handle it. But that feeling doesn't put me at ease, oh no, instead I am wondering if I'm not completely losing it.
Eh, I guess it was just this weekend. Things are sure to settle down this week. After this week, everything will be back to normal. The trains will resume their regular schedule, the building of the apartment will resume, my brother will be back and I can just... I don't know, finally get stressy about how I'm gonna get my apartment ready and get everything ready to move as quickly as possible.
There was more I wanted to write about, but I am still very preoccupied with those damn dreams. Dreams have always been kind of prescient to me - a great source of deja-vu, and I can't help but have this terrible sense of foreboding, even though both dreams were just ridiculous.
Being the forgetful moron that I am, I of course completely forgot how fucked up my dreams tend to be and how shaken they leave me after waking up - a more recent event that people might remember is watching my family members die in horrible 'Supernatural'-esque ways! Luckily I can only remember one of those, partially, most I forgot the day after. (At this point, Saturday's dream is being remembered, so I'ma switch dreams!)
Saturday's was weird, but not at all freaky. As a matter of fact, it was kind of soothing in a way. I don't think I've ever told anyone this, but I don't ever want to live in a place that's situated more than (roughly) 5 floors above ground level. I'm fine with the apartment, I still pretty much live at ground level and I get to walk some stairs, which is always good for health. In my dream, however, the apartment was moved - from the first floor to the 14th. Putting aside for a second that the apartment only counts 5 floors, ground floor included, that seemed to put me about at cloud level (makes perfect sense), where I couldn't hear the sounds of the city at all anymore, which was weird as the 14th floor apparently had no safety rail of any kind. It was a very relaxing dream which left me very wound up in the morning nonetheless.
Sunday was a whole new level of odd. Apparently I was back in 2009, shortly after the volatiles department had moved to the new lab. For some reason we were collectively checking the machinery, which made me feel at ease. However, I seemed to be really getting along with everyone, which pretty much made it clear that it was a dream. I realize this and walk out through the double doors to end up in a place I end up more often - my old school, one level above the entrance. I make my way outside to be picked up by two people I apparently know very well.
We make our way to our hide-out over this bumpy road and hit an old man with a kid. The kid was crying, and the old man in need of a spade to the face, or so I was told. All I could do at that time was spare the kid the vision of his father having his face pancaked, but we had to act fast, as there was a police car on our trail. Or maybe not ours, but if they witnessed this body there would be questions and we didn't have time for that. Essentially, we turn this father into a speed bump (I could still see his face, which had healed, apparently) and we make it to the hide-out.
We're watching some TV when one of the guys pulls out a gun, loads it, ejects the mag, and proceeds by shooting the TV (cue lots of screaming and what the fucks). He then puts the gun to his head, nose-height and about 45 degrees in (that's ok, a pipe only takes one bullet and I can clearly see the magazine is no longer in the gun!), pulls the trigger and blows out a part of his brain. Apparently that wasn't weird enough, so he puts the gun underneath his chin (At this point I'm completely puzzled as per to how a pipe can fit two bullets without firing off simultaneously), and turns his neck into a bloody red fountain. gore ends up everywhere. I wake up slightly more shaken from this dream, roughly 10 minutes before I had to get up this morning.
The weird thing is, that I always seem to remember the fucked up dreams that I have, so where did the apartment dream come from? Was I about to dive off that unsecured floor? Why are my dreams this fucked up anyway? I feel like I'm dying right now. The sleep I got was insufficient. The mice incident has left me oversensitive to sounds like settling materials, drops of water in the air conditioning and traffic outside (which for the record, there hardly was for a change!). After the whole cat thing, I now have these dreams again, and for some reason, I feel I can handle it. But that feeling doesn't put me at ease, oh no, instead I am wondering if I'm not completely losing it.
Eh, I guess it was just this weekend. Things are sure to settle down this week. After this week, everything will be back to normal. The trains will resume their regular schedule, the building of the apartment will resume, my brother will be back and I can just... I don't know, finally get stressy about how I'm gonna get my apartment ready and get everything ready to move as quickly as possible.
There was more I wanted to write about, but I am still very preoccupied with those damn dreams. Dreams have always been kind of prescient to me - a great source of deja-vu, and I can't help but have this terrible sense of foreboding, even though both dreams were just ridiculous.