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Jan. 23rd, 2009 10:31 pmI had two distinct dreams one night, both unsettling enough to make me want to wake when I had the choice.
The first one had an odd note of foretelling. The storyline of it was narrated in a rich voice, reminiscent of Unsolved Mysteries, and what it foretold filled me with a chill. I was babysitting Cammy, the daughter of Katy, a friend, and the voice-oover told me that she'd be kidnapped, her body never found. I let in a handyman to fix the plumping, while Cammy played in a glassed-in backyard, and the voice-over promptly told me that he would be the prime suspect, but there'd never be proof or real evidence. Trying to ignore the voice, in the inexplicable fatalism of dreams, and the cold pit in my stomach, I went into the house to watch TV. But eventually, the dread intensified until it forced me back. And of course, Cammy was gone. The handyman looked at me blandly, and when I looked out into the driveway, his van was blocking mine in, and all of my doors were open. I began to move towards the backdoor, and he moved towards me, so I shoved him, hard. His head hit the granite countertop's rounded beige corner, and down he went.
I raced out to the vans, calling for Cammy. No answer. I dug through both of them, mine and his, and was about to check my spare tire well when I chanced a glance back at the house. The sinister handyman was up again, crouched at the back door, peering out through the glass like an unfriendly dog. His eyes were fixed on me with a calm malevolance, a knowing that chilled me to the bones. I woke then, startled enough that I made some noise, and only began to settle again when I remembered that I don't know a Katy or a Cammy. When sleep rose up for me again, his gaze came with it.
Yet when I really did fall asleep again, it was to a very different dream. 'I,' and I say that carefully because I was aware of being someone other than myself, had learned something I wasn't supposed to know. There was a long room full of ramps, pits, and canals, and two sinister men. They owned me; I was a person, but a thing of no consequence, and it didn't matter to them if I lived or died, so long as their secret was safe. So they hanged me and thought me dead. I drifted around the ceiling of a room to the side of the long room, hung from the ceiling fan and dripping far more blood than I should have had. Below, a boy and his nanny went about their business, pushing away my drifting corpse as needed. I think they were playing a game, with cards or tiles.
Then the sinister men returned, and my body fell in a splash of blood. I hoped that they wouldn't notice I was alive again, and woke up cold with a bloody lip.
The first one had an odd note of foretelling. The storyline of it was narrated in a rich voice, reminiscent of Unsolved Mysteries, and what it foretold filled me with a chill. I was babysitting Cammy, the daughter of Katy, a friend, and the voice-oover told me that she'd be kidnapped, her body never found. I let in a handyman to fix the plumping, while Cammy played in a glassed-in backyard, and the voice-over promptly told me that he would be the prime suspect, but there'd never be proof or real evidence. Trying to ignore the voice, in the inexplicable fatalism of dreams, and the cold pit in my stomach, I went into the house to watch TV. But eventually, the dread intensified until it forced me back. And of course, Cammy was gone. The handyman looked at me blandly, and when I looked out into the driveway, his van was blocking mine in, and all of my doors were open. I began to move towards the backdoor, and he moved towards me, so I shoved him, hard. His head hit the granite countertop's rounded beige corner, and down he went.
I raced out to the vans, calling for Cammy. No answer. I dug through both of them, mine and his, and was about to check my spare tire well when I chanced a glance back at the house. The sinister handyman was up again, crouched at the back door, peering out through the glass like an unfriendly dog. His eyes were fixed on me with a calm malevolance, a knowing that chilled me to the bones. I woke then, startled enough that I made some noise, and only began to settle again when I remembered that I don't know a Katy or a Cammy. When sleep rose up for me again, his gaze came with it.
Yet when I really did fall asleep again, it was to a very different dream. 'I,' and I say that carefully because I was aware of being someone other than myself, had learned something I wasn't supposed to know. There was a long room full of ramps, pits, and canals, and two sinister men. They owned me; I was a person, but a thing of no consequence, and it didn't matter to them if I lived or died, so long as their secret was safe. So they hanged me and thought me dead. I drifted around the ceiling of a room to the side of the long room, hung from the ceiling fan and dripping far more blood than I should have had. Below, a boy and his nanny went about their business, pushing away my drifting corpse as needed. I think they were playing a game, with cards or tiles.
Then the sinister men returned, and my body fell in a splash of blood. I hoped that they wouldn't notice I was alive again, and woke up cold with a bloody lip.
