Okay, I'm not one to make dreamlog
s... and I'm usually not one to even make day-logs
(but I've been making a terrible habit of doing so). There are just certain events in one's life that one feels the need to document
. Others might find it entertaining, or utterly stupid
. Ether way it goes, I must try to rattle it off before the slipping memory
gets away from me forever.
Disclaimer : Bear with me, there are going to be names and places that you will not understand. If a name like "mike" comes up, just imagine a monkey or something... these are their real names, but they're never going to know it.
Well, to start -- I've been having some *really* creepy nightmares lately. It's hard to say that I've had any nightmares in a long time, or even dreams that could constitute as a nightmare... but when you wake up, and you feel like you were in hell for the past 10 hours (if I'm so lucky to get that much sleep) -- then you know it was a nightmare.
I'm not sure how it started, but even if I started in the middle, the entire dream would loop on itself, and I'd only end up where I started. I was driving down the road with my friend Mike. We were going to his father's apartment. Mike's father is currently going through a nasty divorce, but in the dream it was all over. To spite his fresh new ex-wife who tried to take 45% of everything he owned and would generate in the future, Mike's father (Don) bought a humongous ranch-style house somewhere out in the Midwest. We pulled up to the house, and there was a breath-taking view of this gargantuan house, overlooking a fenced in portion of land that seemed to encapsulate the greater part of a valley. The piece of land seemed to go on forever. Horses were running in the field, and the road to the house was so treacherous that we had to park his VW Golf at the entrance gate, and walk the quarter mile, or so, to the house. This was no easy trek. Despite the fact that there was green grass that seemed to go on forever, the path that we walked upon was sandy. Yellow sand. There were horses running around in the field. It seemed like something of a paradise. Suddenly, I looked at my watch, and I realized I needed to be home to meet Danielle.
So again, we made the cross country trek to Murfreesboro, TN in about no time flat (One never remembers getting from one place to the other in dreams, unless the dream is about driving a car or flying in a plane. Ether way it goes, here and there meld seamlessly into the continuous fabric of the imagination).
I find that my house is across the street from an animal shelter/Private school. This private school is so good, it's nationally ranked... Plus it's an animal shelter. There are always dogs wondering around, and it seems somewhat freaky that it's a Private School. Most of us ponder more sinister motives of this establishment -- The school and the animal shelter being a secret laboratory for terrorist's nuclear arsenal -- And they employ a little old lady to go to the street once every day at the same time to fetch the newspaper.
Danielle is at my house, which is much larger than it looks from the outside. This house, I've never seen before in my life. But I know it is my house somehow. We start some useless conversation that I don't really absorb, but I fully indulge in. We sit on the tacky modern art couch that I've never seen before, and then we lay down. Danielle is an ex-girlfriend of mine whom -- I've had a tough time... coming to peace with the situation. This is a totally different story though. Once we lay down, she starts kissing me... and we fall into some sort of passionate love-making frenzy... but she stops. She sits up, and looks at me indignantly. She says, "You know, in the beginning... things weren't always like this." Like what, I ask. "Like... this. In the beginning you used to make me laugh my head off by saying silly stuff. Like, remember that time when I asked for your phone number, and you replied, 'well, I don't know if I should give this to you, because I'm afraid you might give it to some stranger in New York that's going to massacre me and my family', and stupid stuff like that?" (I never said such nonsense in real life... but in dreams, you can never differentiate). Now, there have only been about 2 times that I can remember Danielle ever being truly upset with me. But from the way she looked, sounded, and the way she started running out of the house like a bat out of hell, I could tell she was pissed. I chased her, but when I got outside the private school/animal shelter caught my attention. Danielle became de-prioritized, and now my main mission was to knock on the door of this mysterious establishment.
I knock the little old lady answers; Invites me in. This tiny house is huge on the inside. It's so huge, in fact, that it is --- my middle school... from when I lived in Germany. The old lady disappears, and I'm left to explore. There are dogs and cats wondering around the hallways of this ghostly memory of the past. And more curious, there are dormitories for the students that go to this private school. I manage to somehow find my way into the shower room, where everyone is located. I see all sorts of people tooling around. Taking showers, or getting ready for bed -- doing their own thing. But the closer I look, the more I realize that these are all people I've known from my past. There's Gayla Williams... There's George Crawford... Justin Haugen... All these people from my past are mixing and mingling... and they all seem to know each other. This is the most curious spectacle. I see Danielle, and I approach her... but she only runs. I dink around, and talk to a few people before I leave... And then I arrive at the majestic house overlooking the valley.
It's here that I find Danielle... Waiting for me. And then I wake up.
What makes a nightmare? The feeling you get when you wake up in the morning. Sometimes there's longing for the long lost love that you will never meet in real life, but you had for a brief moment in a dream. Sometimes there's fear, from the reflection of the past, the future, or the present. Sometimes there is happiness over a night full of exhilaration in another world you will never see. What makes a nightmare? Waking up, and being afraid... of what? You aren't quite sure. But it's the same fear that strikes the heart of those that know they are going to die.