Dream #490 (February 24, 2013)

I debated for a while, with myself, about wether or not I should post these disturbing dreams.  I've decided to do it.  Proceed with caution.


In the first dream I was in my grandpa's house during a terribly stormy night.  I was sitting alone at the dining room table reading the newspaper.  Suddenly the radio turned on and a warning was issued.  In the neighborhood, several people had been found to be cut completely in half.  Nobody knew how this was taking place, or who was responsible.  I walked over and turned on a little white television and watched a news reported walk through the city park and stand over a halved body as she described the state of the victim.

This was horrifying, so I turned of the TV.  I crept over to the living room and opened up the curtain a bit so that I could see out to the street by the house.  I saw a strange shape lying in the road.  Curiosity got the better of me, and I unlocked the front door and walked out to see what it was.

When I reached the road I discovered that there were dozens of bodies, each cut in half, lying motionless all about.  I walked down to the end of the street, looking at the halves of faces of the bodies, trying to see if I recognized any of them.  I didn't, but a great sadness began to consume me.

I began to hyperventilate, so I hurried back into my grandpa's house and locked the door behind me.  Just then I heard some strange, muffled pounding coming from the basement.

I cautiously walked down the green stairs, then through the basement, until I reached the cellar.  I opened the door and saw a well-lit white and grey metal container, standing seven feet tall.  The container had a glass window, through which I could see a beautiful young woman screaming and pounding on the glass.  The glass had a thick black line that ran right down the center of it, dividing the image of the woman into two parts.  I knew that this was the machine that was responsible for so much destruction.

I rushed over to the woman and tried to open the death trap.  She was relieved at my presence, yet still had a terrified look in her divided eyes.  I began to sweat as I felt all about the machine for several long seconds, unable to find any sort of button or lever.  All of a sudden, the machine began to make a lot of noise, and I saw a blade slowly begin to creep down above the woman's head.  Panicked I began trying to bust the glass with my fists and I tried prying the door open, but it was no use.

The woman screamed as the blade ran through her skull.  All I could do was watch.


Then I was in a different dream, equally horrifying.


I was sitting in a small aluminum container alone.  Smoke began to fill it, then one of the walls fell and I was free to walk outside.  I walked through a beautiful park on a warm and sunny day.  In the center of the park was a magician standing on a platform, waiving a wand about charismatically.

Amused, I stood with a small crowd and watched him perform slight-of-hand tricks without error.  After a bit of this, he revealed a long, black box and asked for a volunteer from the crowd.  The woman next to me raised her hand, and the magician called her up to the stage and had her enter the box.  She did so with delight.  Then he called for another volunteer.  I raised my hand, but he decided to go with another woman, whom he had join him on the stage.  Then, with the waive of his wand and a puff of smoke, the magician, woman, and box containing a woman, vanished.

I was a bit upset that I hadn't been chosen, and I wanted to see how the trick worked, so I snuck behind the stage and found a trap door hidden there.  I opened it and descended down a tall ladder that stretched down far further than I had thought it would.

I finally made it down into a dark cave.  A small lamp light could be seen about one hundred feet away, so I crept over to it.  There I saw the magician pick up a needle and thread and bend down away from me.  It appeared as if he was sewing something.

I finally came close enough to him that I was just about to look over his shoulder at what he was doing. Suddenly he whipped around and smiled a crooked and wicked smile at me and nodded for me to look past him at his work.  I did so and saw a graphic and horrible wreck.  Apparently the magician had cut off the face of the first woman and had sewn it onto the second.  The woman with the new face, which barely clung to her old one, was still conscious and was wriggling about, unable to free herself from the bonds that the magician had placed upon her ankles and wrists.

I wanted to look away and relieve myself of the ghastly sight, but I couldn't and continued to stare at the sagging and bloody flesh and at the pair of eyes that sunk behind the shadow of a foreign brow.


Finally, I awoke, though the terrifying images couldn't leave my mind for some time.

Dream #489 (January 28, 2013)

After a great tragedy I closed my eyes long enough to dream.

I was in great distress.  In an empty blue city covered in snow I wandered for several long minutes, searching for something unbeknownst to me.  There were headlights here and there, but no cars belonging to them.  The streetlights shined yellow, but a blue light was sewn across the streets and buildings.

At last I found a life - a small, dark-skinned girl playing in the street.  I approached her with excitement, but she retreated from me in fear.  I meant her no harm, for I was grateful to find life.  I tried to show her that I was gentle and that I had good intentions, but she would have no part of me.  Frustrated, grabbed some toys from around her and forced my hands in front of her as I showed her that I could also play.  She finally smiled at me, but the smile was quickly transformed into a gasp as a nearby mansion lit up with both light and sound.  The girl sniffed the air, then ran with great speed down the street into the darkness.

I looked upon the mansion with curiosity and with fear.  The front door opened, calling me, so I entered.

Inside was a chaotic party.  People were drinking heavily, carrying on, snorting lines of cocaine, swinging from chandeliers, throwing plates and silverware, and getting into fist fights.  I saw many people I knew partaking in this anarchy, and I was disgusted at them, and they were disgusted at me.  Bottles, food, and people were flying all about me as I made my way up the old wooden staircase to the third floor.

Once on top I walked over a couple making out in order to get to the center of the room.  Then I saw, across the room, sitting in a velvet chair by the wall, Mark Oliver Everett (or E, from Eels).  He was the only other person in the mansion who had not lost his mind.  He was calmly smoking a cigar.  After a few moments, he looked above the rims of his sunglasses and saw me.  He waived for me to come over to him, and I obeyed.

He got up from his chair and put his hand on my shoulder and led me, without a word, over to another staircase.  We ascended up out of the chaos and onto the irenic rooftop, which overlooked the city (even though were had only gone up a few stories).  There E finally spoke to me.

He told me his life story (which I have read in his book "Things the Grandchildren Should Know"), which is laced with tragedy, depression, and suicide.  He managed, after the hardest of lives, to come out of the darkness with a positive spirit and outlook on life.  Instead of making me feel his pain, he bore my pain and turned it into comfort.

Then I awoke.

I wish I could express, in real life, my gratitude for the comfort E brought me on a night of such confusion and sorrow.