I am afraid of the whispering night, and all it stands for...
In the past two weeks, my dreams have been filled with violence. Not ridiculous violence where one lives without heads, or acts normally while blood squirts from a leg that was just severed right in front of my eyes. The violence I see is true to life to the point where I wake wishing to never sleep again.
The first started two weeks ago when I dreamt of my brother being electrocuted. He insisted on working upon this open circuit within a fictitious rendering of my grandmother's house. I knew he had no knowledge of electrical circuits, and insisted he not work upon it, but he chose not to listen. I walked away, as my mother watched him work, assuring me that he truly knew what he was doing. The two of them made jokes that if I was afraid I should stand by the main breaker in case something happened. I went downstairs, for all of this took place in a 2nd floor bedroom, and stood waiting in case anything should happen. Very soon, I distinctly heard my brother screaming in pain, something that I still hear as I write this, and my mother screaming for me to help. I ran to the circuit breaker, hearing both screaming bodies my entire way. Images from the room of my brother burning alive filled the room as I ran. A very loud scream about his eyes came to my ears as if he were standing right next to me. I could see his eyes popping, exploding, eyelids melting shut, pupils burning off, all of these horrible images at once. MY mother still screamed as I reached the switch, and then pitch blackness. I didn't have to move before I knew that he was dead. I hadn't reached the switch in time...
How can one wake from that and wish to sleep again? I'd close my eyes and immediately see his burning flesh. Even when I was awake all I could hear was him screaming. Since the hour was still early, my eyes soon fell closed, and again I was left in a state of slumber, of which I was not disturbed. And as I awoke the next morning, this dream was all I could think of. I spent all day replaying it over and over, hoping that it should change.
My next dream came 3 nights ago, where Kristine and myself lay at a park similar to Delaware park. As the tranquility was about to take me away on a day dream, I looked to my sides and Kristine was missing. I turned around and saw her laying in the street, crouched in a state of panic similar to a 50's nuclear bomb drill. Flying down the street, towards her were police cars in pursuit of a blue-green SUV, I'm almost positive it was an old bronco. I ran to her side and pushed both of us aside as to not be hit by the oncoming traffic. As we lay there, the SUV turned onto the grass and parked near where we were sitting earlier. Then a jump in time, as we lay in the same place, in the same position, only now the police had exited their vehicles, as did the 3 men in the SUV, wearing regular blue jeans and white shirts. Then the shoot-off began, as the police nearest us, which was literally 3-4 feet away, began firing with the rest of the people. We lay there waiting for it to end, but we were not fearful. Bullets rattled off the cars, and finally we got up and began to run along the median that lined the street. If anyone knows the layout of the street right alongside the rose garden of Delaware park, that is exactly how it was. We ran along this median, away from the fire, while simultaneously the men entered their SUV, none of them injured, and began driving through the maze of police cars, heading in the same direction as we ran. While they drove, they continued to shoot at the forces of authority, and I dove for cover, losing track of Kristine. When most of the police had left, to follow the SUV again, I arose worried about Kristine, and looking all about the street. Right behind me she lay with a single bullet hole exiting out through her face, it was perfectly round.
Again I awoke from this dream in a state of panic, wishing once more to elude sleep for the rest of the night. What made this dream less terrifying was the lack of sound, and the lack of imagery that was present in my first dream, but then last night my own life came under the lucid chopping block.
It was the first of these violent dreams where someone I cared about didn't die, but someone did die in this dream. Also it was a continuation of a dream that all I can remember was the end, unless the end was all I dreamt. This current dream went as such, I was with my assistant manager from work and myself lounging around a room with another person of whom I've never met, nor can describe. The room was his however, and he had been drinking a lot while we were there. He pulled a gun from basically thin air, and was waving it around. This was when my current dream took the same course as my old dream, and I essentially re-dreamt my old dream until a certain point where my new dream kicked back in. After he had pulled his gun, he became very angered by one of my comments. I was then thrown upon a bed within the room, it should be noted that the room was comprised of wood paneling on the walls with a door in the downstage right corner if one were looking at this from an audience. Pat was seated upstage right at a table with a window layed into the wall. The bed was stage left center. The man was standing downstage of me, pointing the gun right at my face. I was terrified, and began to push his arm away from me. I even resorted to reaching for any items I could grab, to hit him with, once reaching a footstool that had appeared out of non-existence, and I hit his hand with it. Once all of this had failed, and I soon tired, I made one last attempt to move his arm, as his finger began to pull the trigger. I had succeeded in moving his arm, however he shoot my leg instead. It seared. No other way to describe it. He then began to replace the gun this time closer to my face. I could feel the spot between my eyes where the sight had been placed. I prepared for the worst when someone in an FBI jacket broke through the door and shot my assailant dead. His corpse fell on top of me. I then flew away from this scene and landed in the next day, which happened to be 2 days before thanksgiving. I was at school on crutches, my leg bandaged from the wound, and I was talking about the pain it caused. Then I awoke, the time being 7 30, and myself not wanting to sleep once more.
The worst part of this dream was not the injury as much as it was the fear of impending death. I cried and pleaded, and tried my hardest to escape death, and soon I was saved, but one cannot always be saved. What happens when I am not saved? What happens when I end up like my brother and Kristine? The recurring theme of trying to save someone and not being able too. Maybe my dreams are trying to say that I cannot be the sole difference. I tried to interfere with both of the people in my dreams, feeling I knew what was best, and I lost both of them possibly because I interfered. Had I trusted John, he might have lived in the dream instead of making a mistake and dying. Had I realized Kristine moved away on her own, and left her there, she might not have been shot. And then there was the dream where I stabbed a man, killing him in cold blood, feeling as if I had not other choice, and having no regrets. That possibly saved my parents lives. So in four dreams I have been terrified by the death of two people very close to me, but also been terrified by my own acts to save two other people extremely dear to me. And was saved by an anonymous force, when my own life was at risk. Psych majors, go nuts!
The first started two weeks ago when I dreamt of my brother being electrocuted. He insisted on working upon this open circuit within a fictitious rendering of my grandmother's house. I knew he had no knowledge of electrical circuits, and insisted he not work upon it, but he chose not to listen. I walked away, as my mother watched him work, assuring me that he truly knew what he was doing. The two of them made jokes that if I was afraid I should stand by the main breaker in case something happened. I went downstairs, for all of this took place in a 2nd floor bedroom, and stood waiting in case anything should happen. Very soon, I distinctly heard my brother screaming in pain, something that I still hear as I write this, and my mother screaming for me to help. I ran to the circuit breaker, hearing both screaming bodies my entire way. Images from the room of my brother burning alive filled the room as I ran. A very loud scream about his eyes came to my ears as if he were standing right next to me. I could see his eyes popping, exploding, eyelids melting shut, pupils burning off, all of these horrible images at once. MY mother still screamed as I reached the switch, and then pitch blackness. I didn't have to move before I knew that he was dead. I hadn't reached the switch in time...
How can one wake from that and wish to sleep again? I'd close my eyes and immediately see his burning flesh. Even when I was awake all I could hear was him screaming. Since the hour was still early, my eyes soon fell closed, and again I was left in a state of slumber, of which I was not disturbed. And as I awoke the next morning, this dream was all I could think of. I spent all day replaying it over and over, hoping that it should change.
My next dream came 3 nights ago, where Kristine and myself lay at a park similar to Delaware park. As the tranquility was about to take me away on a day dream, I looked to my sides and Kristine was missing. I turned around and saw her laying in the street, crouched in a state of panic similar to a 50's nuclear bomb drill. Flying down the street, towards her were police cars in pursuit of a blue-green SUV, I'm almost positive it was an old bronco. I ran to her side and pushed both of us aside as to not be hit by the oncoming traffic. As we lay there, the SUV turned onto the grass and parked near where we were sitting earlier. Then a jump in time, as we lay in the same place, in the same position, only now the police had exited their vehicles, as did the 3 men in the SUV, wearing regular blue jeans and white shirts. Then the shoot-off began, as the police nearest us, which was literally 3-4 feet away, began firing with the rest of the people. We lay there waiting for it to end, but we were not fearful. Bullets rattled off the cars, and finally we got up and began to run along the median that lined the street. If anyone knows the layout of the street right alongside the rose garden of Delaware park, that is exactly how it was. We ran along this median, away from the fire, while simultaneously the men entered their SUV, none of them injured, and began driving through the maze of police cars, heading in the same direction as we ran. While they drove, they continued to shoot at the forces of authority, and I dove for cover, losing track of Kristine. When most of the police had left, to follow the SUV again, I arose worried about Kristine, and looking all about the street. Right behind me she lay with a single bullet hole exiting out through her face, it was perfectly round.
Again I awoke from this dream in a state of panic, wishing once more to elude sleep for the rest of the night. What made this dream less terrifying was the lack of sound, and the lack of imagery that was present in my first dream, but then last night my own life came under the lucid chopping block.
It was the first of these violent dreams where someone I cared about didn't die, but someone did die in this dream. Also it was a continuation of a dream that all I can remember was the end, unless the end was all I dreamt. This current dream went as such, I was with my assistant manager from work and myself lounging around a room with another person of whom I've never met, nor can describe. The room was his however, and he had been drinking a lot while we were there. He pulled a gun from basically thin air, and was waving it around. This was when my current dream took the same course as my old dream, and I essentially re-dreamt my old dream until a certain point where my new dream kicked back in. After he had pulled his gun, he became very angered by one of my comments. I was then thrown upon a bed within the room, it should be noted that the room was comprised of wood paneling on the walls with a door in the downstage right corner if one were looking at this from an audience. Pat was seated upstage right at a table with a window layed into the wall. The bed was stage left center. The man was standing downstage of me, pointing the gun right at my face. I was terrified, and began to push his arm away from me. I even resorted to reaching for any items I could grab, to hit him with, once reaching a footstool that had appeared out of non-existence, and I hit his hand with it. Once all of this had failed, and I soon tired, I made one last attempt to move his arm, as his finger began to pull the trigger. I had succeeded in moving his arm, however he shoot my leg instead. It seared. No other way to describe it. He then began to replace the gun this time closer to my face. I could feel the spot between my eyes where the sight had been placed. I prepared for the worst when someone in an FBI jacket broke through the door and shot my assailant dead. His corpse fell on top of me. I then flew away from this scene and landed in the next day, which happened to be 2 days before thanksgiving. I was at school on crutches, my leg bandaged from the wound, and I was talking about the pain it caused. Then I awoke, the time being 7 30, and myself not wanting to sleep once more.
The worst part of this dream was not the injury as much as it was the fear of impending death. I cried and pleaded, and tried my hardest to escape death, and soon I was saved, but one cannot always be saved. What happens when I am not saved? What happens when I end up like my brother and Kristine? The recurring theme of trying to save someone and not being able too. Maybe my dreams are trying to say that I cannot be the sole difference. I tried to interfere with both of the people in my dreams, feeling I knew what was best, and I lost both of them possibly because I interfered. Had I trusted John, he might have lived in the dream instead of making a mistake and dying. Had I realized Kristine moved away on her own, and left her there, she might not have been shot. And then there was the dream where I stabbed a man, killing him in cold blood, feeling as if I had not other choice, and having no regrets. That possibly saved my parents lives. So in four dreams I have been terrified by the death of two people very close to me, but also been terrified by my own acts to save two other people extremely dear to me. And was saved by an anonymous force, when my own life was at risk. Psych majors, go nuts!