posted on Saturday, Jul. 21, 2007 @ 03:00
"blue calx," "parallel stripes," "rhubarb," aphex twin
layla and i were driving to the mall. it was in the middle of nowhere in a small town. this "mall" was nothing more than a single store in a vast and empty parking lot. the sun was setting. she shopped, we left, then remembered something else we needed. we returned, and as i drove through the parking lot a gang of men stared at us. some were white, some were black (nice to know my subconscious is PC). our windows were down, and i was driving slowly. we heard them make lewd comments. some started to follow us because we were driving slowly. before approaching them in our car, i contemplated going another route. ultimately i decided they were just bored junkies with nothing better to do than hang out in a mall parking lot. as we passed them and i made eye contact, my mind quickly changed.
i tried to dismiss this feeling, as did she, until we noticed one of the men following us. he had two poofy knobs of hair protruding like pigtails from underneath his baseball cap. he had very dark skin and wore all black, except for his white cap. i distinctly remember thinking "stalking" in my dream. we went many places, and he would show up where we were.
[i'll have you know this dream haunted me all day. i live on the second floor and felt the need to go close my blinds just now.]
eventually we ended up on a woman's ranch. she had a large house that was used as some sort of production line, making jewelry or something. it was a small business set up on long rows of cheap tables. there were maybe 50 people in the room.
the black man entered while we were in the midst of socializing, only it turned out to be a butch female. she pulled out a sub machine gun and held us hostage. she planned to kill us all but had us complete some task first, which i've forgotten. she approached a small boy, around 12 years old, and shot him in the mouth. the weapon she had then was a rifle, and his body disintegrated. blood, flesh, and innards were all over the floor. no splatter, just a putrid pile next to the boy's mother. his bowels had spilled open, revealing watery stool that hadn't yet completed its tour of the intestines. the gunman's demand was that we all pick up every piece of it and place it into a white cloth bag. i watched in horror as the mother sobbed and started removing the boy's stool. yellow bile was everywhere. i did not want to participate.
[i blame the most recent episode of "criminal minds" for this scene. damn crime dramas.]
the gunman approached us laggers, but i was able to stall her. i can't recall what i said, but it caused her to have a change of heart. we shared experiences, cried, laughed. ultimately she abandoned her request to clean up the boy's remains and let us go. she said there was a stick of dynamite that was soon to explode.
we ran to a nearby field behind a barn. several minutes elapsed, but no explosion occurred. i entered the barn to kill some time. it was too close to the house for safety should the dynamite detonate, but i didn't see that happening at this point.
there were some goats in the barn, the owner of the ranch, and a few other women. suddenly, as i peered out the window toward the house, i saw an explosion in slow motion. the billowing flames and cascading glass. i hit the ground and covered myself, expecting the worse. eventually the sound arrived, shaking the barn. there was an additional sonic boom that hit, and i knew i was done for; i lay just beneath a window. this information, of course, was provided by that handy third-person dream view. i could see the wave of sound coming for us. the window only chipped in random places�small chunks right out of the middle of a pane�so i easily shook the glass off my back as i stood. the house fire was immediately gone.
i got into a car with the female owner of the ranch and her teenage daughter (layla was gone by this point). they were en route to a motel, where i planned on meeting my family. the motel was run down. one paid for a room beforehand as they entered. there was no clerk. the place was filled with pimps and hookers. i was offered jobs by two of the pimps, who were very polite when i respectfully declined.
my parents and sister went one way and i found a room that interested me. i'll meet you up there, i told them. they rounded a corner.
i opened the door before me to find an old woman. she had a box of treasures she wanted me to have. she removed them one by one, giving me a story for each item. i listened politely as long as i could before i feared being separated from my family. the headboard in the neighboring room banged rhythmically against the old woman's wall behind her. she didn't seem to hear it.
suddenly i look up, and this woman has transformed into my grandmother. often times people transform mid-transaction, but this version of my grandmother was hideous. her hair was a washed-out mousy brown, her lips dry and cracked, the color of ground beef as it just begins to sour. she continued talking of the treasures, how she wanted me to have them. it was obvious she suffered from dementia. she was alone in this tiny room, surrounded by squalor, impoverished, and all i wanted to do was get out.
as i tried to do so, my grandfather entered the room. i was relieved to see she had company, and immediately felt optimistic. he sat in the chair on the other side of the twin bed (the only bed in the room). he sat and said nothing. i addressed him, and he said hello. he said he no longer watches tv because his hearing is too poor. he didn't even read to pass the time. he just sat and stared. the moments i remained with my grandparents in this tiny room with only one bed, one chair, and a cheap television, my grandmother begged me to stay as my grandfather stared into space toward the floor.
i took my leave post haste, as my grandmother is calling to me through a closing door. i met up with my parents and sister around a corner. the hallway was lit in a strange lemon and lime glow. i had heard my grandmother mention being hungry, and as i stared out the window wishing i were home, i saw her. a grocery store was next to this motel, and i saw her hobbling in and out of it. she naturally has a limp because of her weak ankles. it was exaggerated in the dream, however. her hair was tousled, her clothes dirty and unmatched, and i could still see her cracked lips from far away. when she left, she was holding two oranges in one hand.
this dream played in my mind all day. i wanted to call my grandmother and tell her how much i loved her, but just the image i had in my head made me tear up. i couldn't bring myself to do it. i was angry at my subconscious self for abandoning them.
i don't feel i can adequately express the terror i felt from the gunman. it was tremendously painful, a haunted feeling that never left me. i regularly checked over my shoulder while sitting in my cube. as aforementioned, i had to close my blinds at home. the raging winds on this spooky saturday morning are making me feel uneasy.
i used to have nightmares several times a week. they mysteriously subsided months ago, but have recently been creeping back into my life. i pray with all my power they stop. compared to some images conjured by my restless mind, this dream was tame. i cannot live with these gruesome images once again.