Dream Journal 2

-March 19th 2005-

Dream #1
My father is yelling at me. I can’t hear what he is saying, but he has me locked in a tiny room in the basement of our house. It’s not a room that actually exists, but in the dream it made sense (as it often does). Anyway, he’s furious at me for something, and I don’t know what I did. I think I’m a little kid again, but it’s pretty fuzzy, and hard to remember. Anyway, his face is getting angrier and angrier, and then her roughly grabs me, and starts ripping of my clothes. I’m paralyzed with fear, and he turns me around and starts hitting me all over my back, butt, and the back of my legs with his belt. It cuts my skin deeper and deeper, and I can feel the sticky wet of blood dripping down my back. But no matter how hard he hits me, I refuse to fall down. He keeps getting more and more angry, and hitting me harder and harder, and blood begins to pool at my feet, but I refuse to fall down, I refuse to collapse and let him win. And just when I think I can’t take any more of it, he stops. I’m still standing there, gritting my teeth, waiting for more blows to fall, but they never come, and I can hear my father sobbing. I turn around, and he is kneeling, his face buried in his hands, and he’s crying, the belt lying next to his right knee on the floor, and he keeps saying “I’m sorry….so sorry…..Please forgive me….” And then I woke up.


Dream #2
I’m standing in the middle of a desert, underneath a grey overcast sky. The sand is a deep red color, with some swirls of orange here and there, and it’s absolutely breathtaking. All around me all I can see is sand. The clouds are moving quickly, shifting and melting in beautiful patterns. The breeze is warm, and as it licks my body, I realize I am naked. I walk up to the top of a nearby sand dune, and sit down. The warm sand feels good against my bare flesh, and a feeling of contentedness slowly spreads across my body, until it permeates every cell of my body. It’s almost like the feeling of euphoria one gets just after sexual intercourse (I’m sorry for the graphic description, but it’s the only way I knew how to describe the feeling while I was halfway asleep). As I’m sitting there, feeling wonderful, a white robed figure is approaching in the distance. It’s hard to see exactly what it is, or who they are, because the heat from the desert is blurring the figure. I can tell they’re trying to come to me, trying to let me know something (I don’t know how I know, I just do) but they can’t get to me, and I don’t want to leave my perfect perch at the top of this dune. And then I woke up.

Dream #3
I am walking up a twisting, stony path which leads up a hill. I stub my tow every couple of feet on a sharp rock that juts out from the ground, and my left hand is inexplicably bleeding. There are several trees preventing me from seeing where exactly it is that I’m going to, and the long grass at the sides of the path wind and unwind in the wind, making a soft noise like rubbing two pieces of paper together. My forehead is sweating terribly. It’s getting dark, and harder for me to see the path, but I eventually come to the end. At the top of the hill, shrouded in the branches of a giant willow tree is a huge white house. Only the house is old, and run down. Several of the windows are boarded up, and there are no lights. The wind picks up, and the noise of the grass seems to get louder and louder, and it almost sounds like thousands of whispers all at once. I can almost make out what they’re saying, I can catch a few words here and there “Worship….Blood….Death….Birth….Shall Come….” Etc. But I can’t seem to make out any sentences. I walk towards the door, which is made of wood, but is large and twisted. There is a rusty doorknob, and I tentatively reach out my hand to open it. As I grab the knob, my hand begins to throb (the one which was bleeding) and burn, and the whispering seems to get louder and louder. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, and twist the knob. The door swings inward revealing a gaping blackness. And then I wake up.