I was a
chinese princess, beautiful, dressed in extravagant
silk robes.
I was alone in a tatami room, and I'd just had an argument with my father or something, some kind of state (the state was California, which was weird) policy -- and I knew that opposing him would lead to my death. I was aware of some other female character, some kind of advisor, that agreed with me but could not sway my father.
I was alone in the room, and various people came to kill me. Each one failed; I wish that I remembered this part of the dream. Some died, some were simply outsmarted.
The last one was a knife throwing expert -- a man of indeterminate age. He came in and threw blade after blade with unerring accuracy, to show that he could kill me at any time. He wanted me to be prepared for my fate, though. I asked if he was going to throw the knife at my throat.
He said yes.
I said, "Then throw it at the back of my neck. When you sever my spinal cord, death will be instant and painless."
He agreed.
I turned my back to him, trembling and terrified. Instead of the shock of death, he approached me from behind and whispered in my ear. "Your love is waiting for you," the voice whispered, as it pushed the knife in just behind my right shoulder blade. I don't know why, but I knew I had to be wounded in order to make my escape, so I knew the knife-thrower was an ally. My shoulder blade hurt horribly (I can still feel the pain even as I write this), and I was crying -- not in pain, but out of longing for my love, the female conspirator who'd saved my life. I saw her face in my mind and wanted desperately to be with her. I clung to the knife thrower and awoke, still crying grateful tears, still needing to be with my love. I cannot adequately describe this feeling, but it was cleansing in its purity and intensity.
Is that what being in love feels like?