I dreamt that you were laying on top of me. You were running a hand over my exposed belly. Flirty, but forward about your stance. You didn’t want to do her wrong anymore.
Anymore? As if we had some sort history.
entwine
I had another dream about you last night.
We were in a different city, in what looked like to be an urbanized forest. It was multi-level. There were a lot wooden stairs and bridges that allowed you to move up closer to the treetops. There were lots of young people around, mostly in their 20s. We might have been at a conference or convention of some sort. We were climbing a rope ladder. Even the rungs were rope. You were waiting for me. Only when I got to the same rung, you started to move again. It was easier to climb together because of the tension. We went up, side by side, moving in sync. When we got to the end, you pulled yourself up on the platform. And when it was my turn, I was had a lot of trouble pulling my weight up but you helped me, of course.
We were by a suspended tree house with a large deck that we were sitting around on. We might have been waiting around for something but I don’t know what. There were lots of other people sitting around too, some of which were your friends. You threw an arm around me. It shocked me but it was nice. I never expected you to do something like that, let alone in public. And just a second later, with the same arm, you lowered it down and intertwined our fingers. I squeezed your hand. I accepted it completely.
Protected: both.
it’s ceaseless, these nightmares.
More nightmares.
I dreamt I was in a mall, like the really big ones in Asia. I was taking a photo of a group people I just met and I really liked. I wanted something to remember them by. Most of them were a lot younger and very excitable. Before they could stand still for me to get my shot, a massive guy came up behind me and groped me. I told him off. He did it again, almost in a spiteful manner. He didn’t stop. He had a friend who came to do the same who was just as massive. I just kept telling them to stop, go away, and I was yelling that I was being sexually harassed. (Where were my friends at this point?) At this point it came to mind that someone once told me that maybe men misinterpret the tone of voice. I asked myself how that could be possible in this situation. I got extremely aggressive and told him off again. I set one of them off. He threatened to hurt me and kill me. I egged him on. He started towards me. I ran. They both came after me. They didn’t seem to be in any rush to get to me. I ran as fast as I could but when I looked back, they were still coming towards with a menacing saunter. I was going to hit a dead end at the other side of the mall. I was frantically looking for help like security but couldn’t find anyone.
M and I were talking on the phone. He said I could go over to his place but he was preoccupied. He sounded reluctant. I went over. There were people all over his place, laying on the floor. The TV was on but no one seemed to be watching it. M was sitting on a couch with two other women. Like a few others in the room, he was in his underwear. He didn’t seem preoccupied at all. He didn’t acknowledge that I had come in. In fact, no one acknowledged me. No one seemed to care about anything. Was everyone high? He continued talking to the girls next to him, something to do with his sexual endeavors. I felt uncomfortable. I settled myself down among the others, closer to the TV. I laid down, waiting for what, I don’t know. The night went by and he never came around. I felt extremely lonely.
all love, all hate.
One night I go to sleep and I tell myself that you can’t kill my love. The morning after, I resent you for forsaking me. Every passing day, these violent shifts of emotions are taking me under control and there’s no release. Sometimes I wonder if you’ve tried to make me hate you or lose love for you; whether you intentionally instilled me with excitement and joy, to snatch it away out of malice. You gave a shiny new toy to a child and you set it in flames for her to see. What did I do to deserve this? I have all these gaps in what I know and what I understand about the situation. I’m afraid to know and I’m afraid to ask. I’m afraid of you. Your ability to be so cold is terrifying. Sometimes I tell myself that I had no real understanding of who you were or perhaps who you are now. But I’m more hopeful than hateful. What’s wrong with me? I try to tell myself that you did this for you, that you did this for us. And that for any reason, it was for a greater purpose beyond me. I’ve been telling myself a lot of things it seems. I might be deluded. But why did you send me that song? Something about that really hurts me. It was like some form of acknowledgement that you still think of me and you do have a part of you that cares. I mean, why should I think otherwise? But it’s another shiny toy. It gave me relief but it also gave me hope. Agonizing hope. We were hopeless, bound to break, holding on by thread, but I didn’t think you’d pull out the scissors. Out of mercy or disdain, it’s hard to imagine you did it for any other reason in between.
//
I dreamt we bumped into each other last night. You were speaking to me frankly.
Sequela
Been having many nightmares lately, the most in succession ever.
I
A knock on the hotel room door. It’s you. You’re holding flowers and you look happy and hopeful. (How did you find me?) I just catch sight of your bespectacled profile walking away, behind you. There are two of you. (What’s going on?) You asked me if I would come back. Your English was sometimes a little odd. You were asking me for friendship and forgiveness, no doubt. But I couldn’t speak to you. I was distraught and horrified and thought I’d never have to see you again. Tears welled up and poured down my face and I spoke to myself, “I can’t do this”. I say it over and over again. Louder and more frantic each time until I was sobbing. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I was losing control over myself. I collapsed onto my knees, and put my head behind my arms as if I could hide from you. M came to the door. He looks down at me and back at you. He didn’t understand what was going on. He doesn’t recognize you.
II
I don’t remember much of the details but I’m in Greece. Santorini, probably. An endless ocean and some scattered islets. I’m not sure who I’m with but it’s someone that I really care about. Everything was beautiful but then hurricanes suddenly swept through the scene. We’re in danger. I’m afraid it’s the end of us. Game over.
//
Apparently hurricanes in the Mediterranean do happen but they are extremely rare. They are typically called “Medicanes”, a portmanteau between “Mediterranean” and “Hurricane” and only about a hundred of them have been recorded since 1948.
twisting insides
I had a pretty terrifying nightmare last night. I dreamed that there was a hole in my belly button and my intestines were exposed and gushing out. I could run my hands over, feeling them. It didn’t hurt. But I was deeply concerned with all my insides falling out. If I ‘pushed’, I could feel my guts moving about but if did it too hard, a bit of my intestine would pop out and I’d have to pop it back in. I was walking about with my hand over this hole of twisting guts, trying to get to a hospital. I was extremely scared but surprisingly calm for such a situation. I asked whether I should pop my intestine out before seeing the triage nurse to show her how serious it was.
a couple of bad dreams
Last night was one of those nights where I could recall multiple dreams very clearly. The two I remembered well were bad dreams.
I: New day. I think I was on the way to work. I would walk down the street, watching my reflection along the way on this endless metal panel. But after a a few steps, I’d be back where I started. I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening but I thought maybe the days were passing me by, super fast. My life on fast-forward, maybe. On one of these walks, I thought someone was walking next to me, trying to get by but it turned out to be my dog, following me. My dog was a golden retriever in the dream, not a Pom. And though I was looking at a different breed, I knew she was my dog. But she was super messed. She was basically just a head, and arms, afixed onto a bike, but alive. She looked helpless. I didn’t know what had happened to her but my first instinct was to carry her home. When I got home, my brother and sister explained that her body basically got ripped away. I didn’t understand. They explained they had not changed her bandages for a long time when she got injured and it basically rotted away. I looked at her again. She had a large open wound where her nape was. I could see her insides. I felt so much hurt and pain for my dog, I was crying in my dream. Really hard. I told my brother to go put her down. I threw money at him, asking him if he couldn’t see her suffering and told him I’d pay whatever it would cost. I was sick to my stomach and I couldn’t even look at my dog anymore.
II: I was on a movie set. They were rolling, but I seemed to be hiding from everyone on it. It looked post-apocalyptic and it was just a collection of abandoned weathered tin shacks. The main actor was an older white man, maybe in his 50s, talking to a couple of people, I think of colour. I needed to use the washroom badly. One of the shacks had a PVC tarp-like sheet for a door. I chose to check it out. It had a bathtub but no toilet. It was just a room with a bathtub, actually. I heard people moving closer on the outside so I jumped into the tub and waited for them to pass. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I peed myself but I was just in white panties.
woke up, fell back asleep.
I entered another tin shack. This one had a door and a mirror inside. I closed the door behind me and it became real how dingy, and run down the room was. The mirror disappeared and my senses were sharpened. The room became much smaller. Too small. I was feeling claustrophobic and really frightened. I opened the door. The mirror appeared again and the room appeared fine again.
Strange dreams but the feeling of fear is so real when I’m asleep. Don’t know if I could ever feel this afraid when I’m awake. I don’t even get claustrophobic in reality.