Death

[theatokos]

No one ever finds another's dreams terribly interesting. Knowing that I plow ahead anyway to report that I had another death dream last night. I will spare many of the details leading up to the act, except to say that a man and his teenage son were killed by a large lurking dark executioner: their hair grabbed from behind and stabbed in the back. Upon replaying the dream in my dream, I was caught by the executioner witnessing the death of the boy in a garden. I ran to the dark shed where the man had been strung up and killed. Strange that that's where I chose to run to - I was hoping I could merge with the already dead man and fool the executioner. (Upon getting my bike this morning I realized the shed was an awful lot like the bike storage unit in my apartment building.) Unfortunately, the enormous executioner caught up with me before I could merge with the man. From behind he stabbed me in the back. I slumped to the ground and he closed my eyes and took off my shoes and left. I was relieved that he hadn't noticed I was still alive. I hoped my coat would block a lot of the bleeding. Blood began to fill my mouth: thick, warm and iron. I sat up to gush it out of my mouth. I did this twice. I heard someone outside. Getting up laboriously, I went to the door. "Help me! I'm starting to get cold," I said. The man, so distinct and blonde, had a strange sort of amused look on his face. He turned to leave. "Wait!" I said, "Who are you going to tell?" "The narrator," he replied, as if "of course." Who is this narrator, I thought? I went back to lie down in my spot. A very very tall, pale, older man entered the door frame: the doctor. He bent down to check my pulse. More blood pooled in my mouth. I don't think there was much hope for me.

I woke. Wondering if I had been drooling I checked my mouth. Nope no drool. But there was a tight chill in the place in my back where I had been stabbed in my dream.

Comments

[erinya.livejournal.com]

I wake up from dreams with phantom pains sometimes too. I don't die in dreams too often, but I do occasionally.

I don't know, I think that was a pretty interesting dream. Especially the bit about the narrator. Who is this narrator who doesn't know that you are dying? In the tradition of dream interpretation, both narrator and victim (indeed, everyone in your dream) is some aspect of yourself.

[ewigweibliche.livejournal.com]

What I think is so strange is that the violence is no longer startling to me and also what is so distinct and unsettling is the visceral quality of blood in my mouth - heat, texture, flavour, etc. Ew. Also, the recognition that I was turning cold. I wonder what I am dying of, subconciously. What aspect of myself is dying? What aspect of me keeps trying to kill me? Weird.

Dreams fascinate me.