Large house/building, fairly narrow and long…seems almost like a shelter with makeshift beds everywhere and mass confusion – very little organization to the place. There are a few offices and storage rooms along one wall with the doors closed. The walls are all painted a pale gray and they are pretty smudged as though the place hasn’t been kept up or has been in the current state for quite some time. There seems to be no power in the place.
There is a makeshift “living” area with some beat-up couches put together somewhat like a sectional – in a U shape. My purse and a bag with apparently all of my valuables/belongings in it (a very small bag) are lying on one of the couches near where I am standing. I am talking to several people but am keeping my belongings in my peripheral vision. There is an air of distrust, distress and a sense of anxiety about the state of things. It seems almost like a meeting – like some plan for the group is being discussed. Within a few moments, I realize someone has taken my belongings and I grab a rifle out of a glass display cabinet near the couches and take off running. I apparently know who it was and what direction they went. I don’t recall any of the faces from the meeting or any of the people milling about. I am running across unmade beds, piled high with bedding and beds with 4 and 5 people jammed in them trying to sleep. I am tracking the thief.
As I am running through the shelter, things pass in a blur of junky shelter-life of litter and clutter. I am running across and through the mess. My senses and reflexes all seem heightened – sharper, faster, stronger. I am picking up clues that although seem to be incomprehensible, I am still processing. It seems like I am skipping past the recognition of the things I am seeing and hearing, the thought process of working out their meaning and connections and going straight to the conclusion of the responsible parties. I am specifically tracking my dad (who originally took my possessions), Lisa, who served in some distraction/trafficking/laundering sort of capacity in the whole deal and Lori, who currently has the money and possessions and is at some sort of outdoor, Renaissance-like fair or market that is packed with people. I am zipping through the crowd, tracking her now. She has wormed her way through the crowd and somehow heads back inside the shelter of which the fair/market is just outside. I have steadily been collecting bits and pieces of the belongings as I have been going – like they were dropped or given to random people along the way. It’s almost as if there is a visible trail where my possessions have been, where she has run.
Once back inside the shelter, the mission of getting my possessions back was apparently complete. Now some other pressing matter seemed to be inherent to my knowledge. There was a couple – a man and woman trying to overthrow the rule of the shelter. They had some sort of twisted, evil plan but it was unclear what it was. They somehow had morphed into huge mosquito-spider monstrosities and separated. He was in one of the closet-like rooms of the shelter and I somehow knew exactly which one. I still had my rifle and I knew that I had a pistol on me as well – stainless steel and fairly small – maybe a .9mm. I smashed in the door to the storage room he was in, right shoulder first and pistol ready. He is suspended from his web at the back of the room and although he doesn’t have a “face,” he is still somehow capable of projecting a sort of demeanor. He is speaking to me somehow also and although there is a slight buzzing, hiss to his words, he sounds normal for all intents and purposes. You can hear the evil in his voice when he speaks of his and the female’s plan. He is telling me how she is much stronger and more laden with whatever weapon/chemical means they plan to attack humanity with and informs me that they knew I would come looking for them and that was precisely why they were in different locations. He tried to stab me with his horrifically large stinger but with my increased strength and reflexes, I was able to grab him by it, jam it into the wall where his venom (their weapon) emptied benignly. With a quick snap, I then broke off his stinger and stabbed him in the “face” with it – killing him. Without waiting around, I ran out again, now headed for where the female was to stop her. I could sense the anticipation of a more vicious fight ahead of me when I found her. I wasn’t afraid, just not as confident as with the male. The dream left off with me running back through the shelter, the people all still in a general fluster of fear but undefined.
The dream blurred and resumed with my now being on some sort of craft. It was ship-like but there was no buffeting by air or water. I could only deduce that the ship was in space. It was not massive nor was it cramped. There were only a handful of people onboard and it seemed as if it were almost like a mobile lab to some degree. The occupants were apparently family members – father, mother, son and daughter. The son and daughter were both attractive young adults near in age if not paternal twins; the parents both still fairly youthful and attractive. All four of the family members were scientists and intensely intelligent. The father seemed very preoccupied with his work. The children, somewhat just following his instruction but were very mature and sure of themselves. There was a significant bond between the siblings just to the verge of nearly breaching the line of perversity but not quite. The mother: intelligent but perverse. In her work, she found a sense of the erotic and loved her work to a perverse degree. The father was oblivious or indifferent to her affections for her experiments.
The entire family built a machine together which was incorporated into the ship (like an appendage to one end which encircled the rest of the ship in something resembling a ring, intermittently connecting up to the ship itself). The mother’s relationship to the machine was far more personal. It was if she had somehow embodied a soul, personality, BEINGness into the machine during her portion of the project’s work. This was the manifestation of her perversity and therefore, where she felt her connection to it.
The “bridge” of the ship was a slight dais-like step-up from the rest of the space within the ship. This was where the father virtually stayed, absorbed in data displays and controls. To the right of the bridge was something like a foyer which led to the machine. The “entrance” to the machine was something akin to a zipper with softened, curved teeth that gently seemed to flow upwards and downwards with the wave pattern of the teeth. The vertical “mouth” of the machine opened and closed slightly with the flow of the waving movement so as to permit occasional, brief glances within to a smooth, metallic, cavernous and massive, curving and rolling interior. Almost immediately inside the door/mouth and below it there was a pulsating bright white light that seemed to be breathing or pulsing like a heartbeat. The whole machine moved very organically and had a softened, more organic shape and feel.
The machine’s purpose was for energy manufacturing and some sort of space/time/teleportation function.
As the father and children worked on the mechanics of the ship and machine’s functions, the mother was found at the mouth/door of the machine, caressing and whispering to it as it slowly opened and closed in its waving pattern. As time passed, the mother slowly began to move with the movement of the mouth/door and with the same sort of flowing, wave pattern, began to crawl into it. She began with one foot and then slowly slid the rest of that same leg through the lower opening, riding the wave of the “zipper” up to its opening at the top where she then slid the opposite arm through the opening so that she was then somewhat twisted with the teeth. As the wave carried her back down again, she ducked her head inside and then back out when reaching the bottom, spinning head over heels so that she was now upside down and loosely tangled with the mouth. On the next wave back up, she spun back upright again and simultaneously pulled her remaining leg, arm and then head all inside the machine, being swallowed by it.
There was a sense of the machine having a dangerous quality to the average person but like a wild animal raised from infancy by a person, she enjoyed a bond with the machine that most did not – except with a perversity that was just generally accepted by the rest of the family. Although the mouth was closed, I could see that the mother was in essence, “swimming” through space within the machine in some erotic bond with it, circling the ship as she gently brushed along the curves and waves of its inside walls like a fish as she swam in quietly intimate ecstasy.
I originally started this post with the intention of merely sharing another dream from a while back in its extremely raw descriptive form. In the midst of getting it typed out, I got a call from my vet (well, my CATS’ vet, I obviously don’t need a vet for mySELF). It seems one of my cats, LapWhore (named for her tendency towards any new visiting lap and her virtually obscene drooling and “making out” with someone petting her), is dying of Lymphosarcoma cancer which has attacked the left side of her lower jaw. She has one to two months to live according to the vet, at which time, she will ultimately starve to death due to the rate of growth of the tumor and location.
This is LapWhore (aka, Orange Cat):
lapwhorecharacter2005
lapwhoresummer2006
I’ve had pets my whole life but not since being an adult have I had to deal with one dying, let alone had to be the one with the decision as to when she’s had too much and needs to be put to sleep. This is one of the precise points of trouble that Robin Williams’ family faces in the film, “What Dreams May Come” with their family dog. It is the first time that their children lose a pet and it is difficult for them to comprehend. The comprehension isn’t my trouble though. It’s the heartbreak of watching her suffer when she has been such a lively, spirited cat for all 11 years of her life and the loss that will hurt for me. I don’t look forward to this…
I’m no “video editing” pro so if you want to see the scene in “What Dreams May Come” that I’m talking about, start at 4:40 and watch through 6:05:
Anyway…in the nature of having to carry on, this was the dream I initially began posting… Forgive me if I don’t currently care enough to make it a more refined read. Just read it for what it is…
Dream from Night of May 21st, 2008:
The dream begins with my entering some derelict Cathedral of mammoth size but with cheaply done Gothic details — amusement park quality. All black and red.
Inside, it is falling in on itself. There is a space almost the entire size of the cathedral underneath but it has to be reached by ladders and improvised, constructed means (like a pulley, lift system) of lowering down through the cathedral’s collapsed floor to the lower level. The lower level is almost like a previous church that was ransacked and destroyed, buried and the new, black and red cathedral built on top of it.
My parents are visiting and are well dressed, behaving like members of the upper-class. I am taking them around a bizarre hotel that is decorated in bright, bold colors but not over-lit in the least. Rooms, including the lounge and restaurant are deceivingly large inside. Angles are odd and corners are not at right-angles. There was someone else walking along with us as we toured the hotel — a man of small frame but not clearly identified, perhaps the architect.
We leave the hotel in a large, black car and I take them on a nighttime, driving tour to the old cathedral. The cathedral is situated on a side street near Downtown Pensacola, close to where the Civic Center is, near the old cemetery that is there. (Gregory St./Wright St.).
A slight jump in time and events.
I either WAS or was HELPING a glowing “distant” woman who was of some other world or supernatural degree of significance — world altering power. Taking her down the ladder to the lower cathedral where our underground army’s base was — amongst up-turned pews and broken iconography. It had to be something like 3 full stories down, at least. As I am escorting her down, a spirit version of her begins to open out of her back — like a disembodied split-off of a more powerful/purer part of herself — uninhibited by the constraints of flesh. She is our super-weapon in an underground war between armies with various (but lesser) supernatural abilities on both sides of the battle.
I have a tendency towards strange dreams as I mentioned in my first post, here and it’s been a thing for quite some time. I did finally start writing them down and typing them out a few years back after I realized it wasn’t a passing phase. I also apparently have a knack for dreaming in exquisite detail that I still maintain is wasted on my inability to really draw, paint or even sculpt but I have tried at least to do my best at finding the words to describe the things I see when my eyes are closed and my mind is left to its own devices and designs. My dreams aren’t always coherent obviously but the following one is from 2005 and was extremely detailed and long so I thought I might share it. It may find its way into a story or book one day so I’ve been hanging onto it.
I know most people read without commenting but this is one where if anyone feels like commenting, I would be interested in what they thought of this weird strand of madness that my head conjured without my full involvement… If not, whatever. I kept it for a reason and that’s good enough for me.
Deserted Road in a Dead Landscape 10/05/2005:
I was driving down this pretty much deserted road through dead landscape (meaning primarily burned out looking fields) and it was an eerie shade of “dusk” out — that unnerving yellow-tinged, fading light that makes it nearly impossible to see anything as it truly is. There was almost a lingering residue of smoke filling the air that made this visual handicap almost unbearable and alienating.
If there’s one thing you never want to happen in a place and time like that, it’s to run out of gas and that is exactly what I was about to do.
As if I’d been driving through a forest (although it seemed more like I had been driving the deserts of eternity), a settlement of sorts comes into view on my left and I felt the relief that tells me if nothing else, I can find some semblance of aid at this place.
This place, a very rustic little cluster of buildings spaced apart as though an early attempt at rural strip mall-ing, was enclosed by a rough log fence. This was obviously a fence originally intended for an aesthetic purpose and that alone being as how the gravel/sand driveway from the road into the far-too-large-for-being-sensible parking lot was just as insensibly wide. You couldn’t have kept a blind hog with that fence. As it was, however, this fence was indeed keeping something in, something unseen at first but /felt/ before even seeing the place. Funny how in hindsight, you remember those funny little twitches in your stomach that told you to keep driving, even if you did run out of gas – you know, the ones you always shrug off as something you ate. This was a case where I really wished that I had listened to my intestines.
…But I stopped anyway, still convinced this was a fortunately timed discovery. I pulled into the desolate parking lot, dust stirring all around my car, the sound of gravel crunching beneath my tires had no competition for audibility – there wasn’t so much as an insect contributing to the atmosphere, but of course I didn’t really notice that at the time either. Again, now that I think about it, there’s something to be said for a place that even insects refuse to plague.
There were three or four small log buildings in this creepy little corral none of which really showed signs of life – no dogs, people or other cars around at all, just silence aside from the complaining gravel as I made my way to the second building of the lot in order to check around for signs of life. I stepped inside the dark doorway and was struck with an almost nauseating feeling, suddenly wondering if I’d crossed over the threshold into another world. A sense of confusion and timeless presence in this place overtook me as I wandered around drunkenly from room to room. Streaming bits of the fading, sick light crept through tiny gaps in the exterior walls, bringing with it, memories of how the interior of houses in nuclear bombing experiments looked in /National Geographic./ It seemed as the daylight faded further and further into night, my loss of a sense of time and direction, reality even, became more and more hazy. Wandering aimlessly around this single structure, I eventually began to no longer feel alone.
Although I saw no one else at first, I began to feel the presence of multiple people and eventually a whisper that grew to the volume and complexity of the pre-performance crowd at a symphony – except more frantic, more tragic. As the darkness continued to intensify, flashes of color and slivers of light began darting past me although nothing had so much as touched me throughout my wanderings. These flashes slowly became people, blurred and unclear but far from happy looking in their passing.
After some time, I realize I didn’t remember when I last felt my feet on the floor. I drifted as my disorientation became even greater. The voices became more distinct. Someone was speaking TO me. I still saw only blurs of people in their passing but I could not seem to determine the origin of the voice speaking to me. The voice was rambling about its experiences here, in this building, this house of trapped souls, doomed to wander aimlessly for all time. The voice told me of others before me and of her own misadventure into this place – it was finally a decipherably female voice. The sadness in her voice did not lend hope for making it out of this place.
She had become more distinct to me as I had continuously been accepting the madness of this place as reality and as she spoke, I began to make out her sad but otherwise indifferent face. As we drifted in this abysmal hell, she wrapped her arms around me, whispering in her spectral voice a warning not to fall further into the madness, this demonic trap set for the road-weary and fearful. She grasped me firmer and her strange body converged upon me with a supernatural sexual transference of energy which carried throughout my entire being as she continued to whisper her warning. Distracting as her action may have been, this nameless female thing had suddenly drawn my consciousness back to the forward regions of my mind where her whispers became commands.
“AWAKE! AND FLEE!” If a whisper could ever have been capable of synonymously being a shout, this was that occasion. As I snapped alert, I found her still holding me at arm’s length and with previous unknown knowledge of this place and it’s possession by a greedy, trickster spirit named Harris.
I never acquired the history of Harris’ coming to this retched place or who he was from my anonymous she-specter savior. I had more pressing things on my mind at the time. Perhaps one day I will have the nerve to research the place – if it even really exists.
In the meantime, Harris’ power over the place apparently and unsurprisingly kept him privy to the status of his dinner of souls. Upon the realization of my reinstated consciousness, he took the vantage point of my tormented friend by possessing her spirit. >From the change in demeanor, I knew without a doubt, she had been possessed and that he was attempting to possess me as well.
He had the grip of my arms that she had just before his possession of her and while tightening his grip, Harris began speaking as her of how even if I could not make my way out, I would surely be welcomed and loved by the other residents of this place. I grabbed her possessed arms even harder than they were capable of holding to me and began to shake her form (body is doubtfully appropriate) and demanded that Harris show himself.
As I did this and shouted this at her gentle face, it transformed to a man’s. This face mirroring my own was none like walks the waking world of daylight. The eyes were not even just empty sockets, but black abysses with an expressed purpose to consume. I refused to let my poor doomed female specter’s warning become lost in my defeat. I told myself that she warned me because she knew I had the power to overwhelm Harris.
And I did. Perhaps through lent power on her part, I managed to conjure a force strong enough to crush Harris backwards away from me.
I wasted not so much as a second look before hurdling towards what I now was capable of seeing as the very door I had walked in through, no more than 20 feet away. That threshold of waking freedom – the escape from this demonic leech named Harris was within reach and I had not the faintest doubt that I had the ability to get there.
When I crossed the threshold into the same eerie time of day that I first entered the building, no more than a moment had passed although it felt as if I had wandered for an eternity inside the horrible darkness of that log cabin. I did not as much as slow to get back into my car, still parked in front of the building but rather, ran until I no longer felt sand and rocks kicking up against my back.
When I reached the road, I knew I was beyond Harris’ reach. I knew his control started the moment I stepped foot on that gravel space and when I looked back inside that rustic, fenced in yard, my car was no longer visible. I lacked concern at the loss but rather, could feel the sad applaud from my poor female savior at my re-acquisition of freedom from that consuming hell.
I turned my back on that forsaken place and refused to even walk past it in order to continue on my original journey. Instead, I went back the way I came, to the safety of the wasteland landscape and the feeling of freedom through travel. I now knew what a sensation of real eternal drifting was like and any road is better than that; it is a path of freedom to and from somewhere, anywhere — not a sea of dark timelessness, lorded by evil.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I am going to look into that place or Harris after all….
