REALLY FREAKY DREAM. NO, NIGHTMARE.
You ever have one of those nightmares that's so bad, you're not only afraid to go back to sleep that night, but you're afraid to sleep, like, ever again?
Yeah, that happened to me on Friday night. I pretty much haven't slept since.
Like, you know, one of those nightmares that's so disturbing, you actually wish you couldn't remember it?
I'm really freaked out that my subconscious came up with this subject matter.
I'm almost afraid to write down all of this.
In the dream, I was a man. That, in itself, is not unusual-- it's happened quite a few times before, and it's never been cause for alarm on its own.
What was scary was being some kind of serial killer or something.
There was another man, my victim, attractive enough I suppose, although not anything that stood out in particular. I don't even recall any details about his looks. I had cut out his tongue and amputated both his legs BTK and castrated him, and as he was lying there, struggling weakly in a puddle of his own blood, I rolled him over, face-down, and said, "Okay, let's finish this up."
Because the next logical step, of course, was to rape the guy, although I was mildly annoyed at myself for having completed the castration first, since I'd decided that it would be enjoyable to be able to reach around and hold his cock, and now there was nothing there.
And that was right around where I woke up, with this horrible imagery and . . . I was going to say feelings, but it was more about the lack of feeling.
I think that's what freaked me out more than anything else-- just how cold I was in that dream. So removed, so distant . . . not even really taking pleasure in any of the atrocities I'd just committed. The most emotion I'd felt was a sort of vague irritation that a choice I'd made previously was negatively impacting another step in the process.
I've been cruel to people before. I have a short temper and a knack for zeroing in and causing the most pain in the fewest possible words. My emotions always run close to the surface, and if I'm angry at you, you'll know it pretty damn quick. It's almost impossible for me to think logically, or even calmly, when I'm caught up in the heat of the moment.
So I can tell myself, intellectually, that this dream-self obviously isn't me. I don't have some deep-seated sociopathic tendencies lurking beneath the surface.
Emotionally, though, I'm in a panic. I mean, it's pretty rough to dream about yourself as torturer and rapist without getting thoroughly freaked out.
I don't know. Maybe in another few days, I'll be able to get enough emotional distance that I'll feel like I can analyze this dream a little more rationally, instead of just flipping out about it.
Either that, or my entire flist is going to be all, YOU DUMBASS GO CHECK YOURSELF INTO THE NEAREST NUTHOUSE NOW K THX BYE.
Yeah, that happened to me on Friday night. I pretty much haven't slept since.
Like, you know, one of those nightmares that's so disturbing, you actually wish you couldn't remember it?
I'm really freaked out that my subconscious came up with this subject matter.
I'm almost afraid to write down all of this.
In the dream, I was a man. That, in itself, is not unusual-- it's happened quite a few times before, and it's never been cause for alarm on its own.
What was scary was being some kind of serial killer or something.
There was another man, my victim, attractive enough I suppose, although not anything that stood out in particular. I don't even recall any details about his looks. I had cut out his tongue and amputated both his legs BTK and castrated him, and as he was lying there, struggling weakly in a puddle of his own blood, I rolled him over, face-down, and said, "Okay, let's finish this up."
Because the next logical step, of course, was to rape the guy, although I was mildly annoyed at myself for having completed the castration first, since I'd decided that it would be enjoyable to be able to reach around and hold his cock, and now there was nothing there.
And that was right around where I woke up, with this horrible imagery and . . . I was going to say feelings, but it was more about the lack of feeling.
I think that's what freaked me out more than anything else-- just how cold I was in that dream. So removed, so distant . . . not even really taking pleasure in any of the atrocities I'd just committed. The most emotion I'd felt was a sort of vague irritation that a choice I'd made previously was negatively impacting another step in the process.
I've been cruel to people before. I have a short temper and a knack for zeroing in and causing the most pain in the fewest possible words. My emotions always run close to the surface, and if I'm angry at you, you'll know it pretty damn quick. It's almost impossible for me to think logically, or even calmly, when I'm caught up in the heat of the moment.
So I can tell myself, intellectually, that this dream-self obviously isn't me. I don't have some deep-seated sociopathic tendencies lurking beneath the surface.
Emotionally, though, I'm in a panic. I mean, it's pretty rough to dream about yourself as torturer and rapist without getting thoroughly freaked out.
I don't know. Maybe in another few days, I'll be able to get enough emotional distance that I'll feel like I can analyze this dream a little more rationally, instead of just flipping out about it.
Either that, or my entire flist is going to be all, YOU DUMBASS GO CHECK YOURSELF INTO THE NEAREST NUTHOUSE NOW K THX BYE.