Dream.
Sleep and I are at odds again. It took me a while to fall asleep last night and when I finally did I woke up three hours later, groggy and confused. Fell back asleep. Woke up three hours later again, reeling from a very vivid, gory dream. Fell back asleep and woke up two hours later. So it's no surprise I've been a bit spacey all day, with a headache. I meant to write the dream down earlier, because I wanted to remember it and because I so rarely have these very detailed dreams anymore. I used to have them on a semi-regular basis and I kind of miss them even when the content is disturbing.
Warning: graphic, blood/gore
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There was a young man named Alex, and he has the face of an angel. He's sick, but that's all right, because I'm going to save him. We run through a system of cave tunnels that look like the inside of a geode, millions of tiny bone white crystals. I have to be careful because they're sharp. You brush against it and come away with hundreds of micro-cuts and tiny droplets of blood beading on your skin, but it's so sharp you don't even feel them.
Alex runs too quickly for me to catch him, and disappears. There's a door that leads to a restaurant that looks like an old fashioned French brasserie, all dark wood and brass fittings. Inside is an old lady who steals people and turns them into wax statues, and I know she's taken him. I have a sword in my hand, a long, curving thing with a hooked end and I slash at her legs. Deep cuts open on her calves but she laughs at me and keeps dancing just out of reach.
I open a door and find Alex, he's in an upright coffin and his skin is cold and gray. I'm too late. The old lady never stops laughing. In the restaurant is a long wooden counter and sitting on it is a knife with a long, thin blade. I grab it and stab her deep in the chest and it goes through her as easily as cutting through soft butter. I slit her throat and the wound opens like a hinge until I can see the cross section of her neck with all the vertebrae, but somehow, she's still laughing.
I'm not scared. I feel exhilarated, because I plan to keep cutting her into smaller and smaller pieces until she stops.
---
It sounds like a nightmare, but it wasn't, exactly. I don't remember being frightened in the dream, just a little anxious and full of adrenaline. When I woke up, my nerves were all fired up and on high alert but I felt exhausted at the same time.
Sometimes one's inner serial killer has a field day with one's unconscious mind, I guess. I've been working on a vampire short story and reread Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla for inspiration. Maybe that's what did it...
Warning: graphic, blood/gore
---
There was a young man named Alex, and he has the face of an angel. He's sick, but that's all right, because I'm going to save him. We run through a system of cave tunnels that look like the inside of a geode, millions of tiny bone white crystals. I have to be careful because they're sharp. You brush against it and come away with hundreds of micro-cuts and tiny droplets of blood beading on your skin, but it's so sharp you don't even feel them.
Alex runs too quickly for me to catch him, and disappears. There's a door that leads to a restaurant that looks like an old fashioned French brasserie, all dark wood and brass fittings. Inside is an old lady who steals people and turns them into wax statues, and I know she's taken him. I have a sword in my hand, a long, curving thing with a hooked end and I slash at her legs. Deep cuts open on her calves but she laughs at me and keeps dancing just out of reach.
I open a door and find Alex, he's in an upright coffin and his skin is cold and gray. I'm too late. The old lady never stops laughing. In the restaurant is a long wooden counter and sitting on it is a knife with a long, thin blade. I grab it and stab her deep in the chest and it goes through her as easily as cutting through soft butter. I slit her throat and the wound opens like a hinge until I can see the cross section of her neck with all the vertebrae, but somehow, she's still laughing.
I'm not scared. I feel exhilarated, because I plan to keep cutting her into smaller and smaller pieces until she stops.
---
It sounds like a nightmare, but it wasn't, exactly. I don't remember being frightened in the dream, just a little anxious and full of adrenaline. When I woke up, my nerves were all fired up and on high alert but I felt exhausted at the same time.
Sometimes one's inner serial killer has a field day with one's unconscious mind, I guess. I've been working on a vampire short story and reread Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla for inspiration. Maybe that's what did it...