I had a dream which although being rather odd was comforting. Reckon it speaks of a bizarre psyche and tortured ends which wouldn't surprise me. So here's the dream, I stand in an nondescript institution with my grandfather and there's activity all around. We are approached by men in formal wear who tell me they will help if we go with them. Now an undeniably important fact is that my grandfather has shrunk in the dream. He is about 4 feet tall yet completely to scale. I pick him up and holding him in my arms follow the men out of the building.
In the car there is a dialogue which I do not remember well, I have some vague recollection of pressed need for secrecy and discretion. Then I receive a text on my phone that states simply: "You are in danger, it is a trap".
From there a sense of danger and alertness fills me from head to toe like a physical liquid fire. Nevertheless I reassure my to scale grandfather we will be alright. We arrive to an oddly nondescript warehouse with some scarce blank faced individuals wearing black body gloves going about as in a hurry. There is also a faint growling echoing from somewhere within the warehouse in a surreal way. I spy a bike sitting near me and see the gate we came through is being closed and make my move. I put my grandfather in my backpack with a hug and get on the bike and make for the closing gate.
The gate stops closing as if a miracle and I go through. Shouts and voices are heard from within and the men that brought us here speak urgently into earpieces. Then well, then humanoid mutants looking like the mix between someone extremely fat and someone extremely muscled as in patches of fat and patches of muscle make up their physique randomly. Being around 8 feet tall they come charging at us. I bike as hard as I can, it is dusk nearly night but the sky is a strange yellow. I get to a sort of employee's lounge and yell for help. Nobody seems to care, the monsters round one of those big containers you see at ports. I can't quite recall what they are called but the place is a maze made from them.
Some men shout in surprise others simply continue eating. A middle aged fellow walks up to them and says with a pure southern drawl: "You oughta ain't be chasin them-" as I round a big red container my heart swells with hope that this man can stop them or distract him for long enough.
Then I hear gristle, bone, flesh, in short the whole human body being crushed and his words cut short. I bike as hard as I can but seem to go no faster and come to a dead end with a chain link fence. I ditch the bike and climb with Grandpa at my back asking me where am I going. I tell him we will be home soon. The fence is abnormally tall as they usually are in my dreams. As I reach the top the monsters round the container and charge at us. As they're about to hit the fence I wonder if I can land well from about 20 feet and how safe grandpa would be and if I did how long the chain link fence would hold. Then think shit this is an "iffy" situation and go over the fence and start climbing down the other side.
Then my dad turned on the light and I woke abruptly.
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Dream of Dad's House
I have dreamt once more. Much more going on than what I can currently recall. My recollection begins with me abruptly standing outside my dad's house facing a witch. She is bloated, fat, covered in boils and wearing a ragged torn robe of vomit green. The witch holds a silver wands and absurdly yells "I'm going to get you, I'm going to get you!" and wobbles after me.
I simply pluck the silver wands from her chubby clumsy fingers and press it on her face. Her flesh hisses and melts from the silver. Once again the absurdity continues with her proclaiming "My wand! mine you no have!" and me declaring back "It's mine now I took it! mine mine!'. She flails at me and I press it against her face, back and forth we go like an absurd dance, arguing the rights of the wand like four year old children. I reach the door of the house and go in. She reaches one elephantine arm through the small window the door has and I without skipping a beat press the silver wand numerous times against her arm causing her to wail and leave.
I go into the living room and spy her through the window. Then the strange dream gets odder still because she and her 300 pound heavy plump rotten frame jumps, jumps onto the roof! I call out inside the house. The furnitue is torn, everything is broken or scattered. My dad and aunt come over and I tell them what happenend.
Dad tells me: "You cannot kill it with that wee thing!" in an oddly scottish accent. So we go to an old wardrobe and open it. It's full of weapons made of silver and tells me to take the sword. The witch upon the roof goes: "So you're taking the sword are ye!" so we hush and take small hand axes instead and I note with a whisper "We can throw these". Then a conglomeration of windchimes sound and dad rushes to the front door and goes outside. I quickly follow and in his workshop we find hounds, some tangled in a windchime and other eating metal as if it was canned dog food, I guess they were metal eating dogs. The hounds are small but are more wolf than dog and more bear than wolf. That's as best as I can explain their appearance. Dad no longer using his scottish accent, holds up his axe and goes "How do you throw this?" I give him a blank look as in "I said we could not that I know how" then shrug and throw mine at the hybrid hounds.
It bounces off the ground and buries itself in the head of the closest one with an abrupt crunch and a spurt of gore. The hound-things stop their scavenging and yap and run at us with their strangely thin and shark-like fangs bared. I tell dad to go in and follow him up the steps to the front porch. He throws his axe and hits nothing in a terrible throw, I pick up a broom of all things and fend them off. I throw pottery and chairs and anything that's around and eventually the dogs retreat. Then I notice they go out the gate and a sick feeling settles in my stomach as the common fact that gates don't open themselves thunders through my head, someone let them in as a distraction. Dad goes off the porch to close it and before I can shout out a warning something lands on his back from the roof, something sinous, humanoid and purple. I run towards him and it punches a clawed hand through his chest in a welter of gore. I wake.
I simply pluck the silver wands from her chubby clumsy fingers and press it on her face. Her flesh hisses and melts from the silver. Once again the absurdity continues with her proclaiming "My wand! mine you no have!" and me declaring back "It's mine now I took it! mine mine!'. She flails at me and I press it against her face, back and forth we go like an absurd dance, arguing the rights of the wand like four year old children. I reach the door of the house and go in. She reaches one elephantine arm through the small window the door has and I without skipping a beat press the silver wand numerous times against her arm causing her to wail and leave.
I go into the living room and spy her through the window. Then the strange dream gets odder still because she and her 300 pound heavy plump rotten frame jumps, jumps onto the roof! I call out inside the house. The furnitue is torn, everything is broken or scattered. My dad and aunt come over and I tell them what happenend.
Dad tells me: "You cannot kill it with that wee thing!" in an oddly scottish accent. So we go to an old wardrobe and open it. It's full of weapons made of silver and tells me to take the sword. The witch upon the roof goes: "So you're taking the sword are ye!" so we hush and take small hand axes instead and I note with a whisper "We can throw these". Then a conglomeration of windchimes sound and dad rushes to the front door and goes outside. I quickly follow and in his workshop we find hounds, some tangled in a windchime and other eating metal as if it was canned dog food, I guess they were metal eating dogs. The hounds are small but are more wolf than dog and more bear than wolf. That's as best as I can explain their appearance. Dad no longer using his scottish accent, holds up his axe and goes "How do you throw this?" I give him a blank look as in "I said we could not that I know how" then shrug and throw mine at the hybrid hounds.
It bounces off the ground and buries itself in the head of the closest one with an abrupt crunch and a spurt of gore. The hound-things stop their scavenging and yap and run at us with their strangely thin and shark-like fangs bared. I tell dad to go in and follow him up the steps to the front porch. He throws his axe and hits nothing in a terrible throw, I pick up a broom of all things and fend them off. I throw pottery and chairs and anything that's around and eventually the dogs retreat. Then I notice they go out the gate and a sick feeling settles in my stomach as the common fact that gates don't open themselves thunders through my head, someone let them in as a distraction. Dad goes off the porch to close it and before I can shout out a warning something lands on his back from the roof, something sinous, humanoid and purple. I run towards him and it punches a clawed hand through his chest in a welter of gore. I wake.
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