Another from a while ago...
Very uneventful, and very succint. B.?[m/20ish?], he's got dreads. In real life. And they're awsome. And he loves them. So I dreamt he was getting them cut off. Snip snip. Emotional torture. Snip. Dreads = gone. Bizarre. Then there's me. Trying to find golf balls in a shop. The end.
Yea, I don't get it either...
Something Surreal
Something surreal - is coming to the realisation that you're going to die. You feel no drama or tragedy, nor loss, you just simply come to accept fact, and are at one with yourself.
I was at home. In my hallway. At the kitchen end. Mum's doing some housework, she's in the kitchen. Dad comes upstairs, turns round the corner and sees me. Looks at me like, '...my daughter's going to die today...' not in a sinister way though. In a fatherly 'I can't believe what I'm seeing' kinda way, cos he knew what what was going to happen.
So I'm standing there, lips sealed, cheeks brimming, kinda like if you were gonna throw up? But your holding it in your mouth or something? I was standing emotionless, mouth full of blood. The blood filling up every gap, it was going to spill out of my eyes, kinda in the way that some people can squirt out milk. But the blood wasn't squirting, it was welling up in my eyes. My dad hugged me knowing there was nothing he could do, he just held me as mum came round the corner out of the kitchen. She looked at me in a wondering way, wondering what was happening. Dad and I assumed she was going to call the ambulance, she came back and went back into the kitchen. Dad waited half a minute, then followed her in to see what was happening. She had a bottle of surface cleaner in her hand. And a cloth. "What are you doing??" "I'm cleaning." "For God's sake! you didn't ring?!" "Ring what?" She seemed utterly oblivious. Here's me dying, she was too preoccupied cleaning to notice. Dad phoned the ambulance.
Meanwhile, I had come to terms with what was happening early on, I knew I was dying. And I knew there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing I wanted to do about it. It was an acceptance of fate. All I had to do was keep my mouth closed to hold in the blood, and wait. I felt so relaxed, flaccid. I just 'was'.
The blood was coming from my lungs.
This whole time, there was me, as if removed from my body, looking at myself, and I could see a stylised cross section of my lungs, like a 1990's computer graphic. The right lung was whole, I couldn't see it's interior, this lung hadn't been cross-sectioned. It was pink, like healthy lung colour pink. But my left lung, the lung that was cross sectioned, it had a yellow wall layer, and it was flooding with blood. I was watching this blood, flood into my lungs, slowly filling them up, like slowly pouring water into a glass. Like the milk that makes the chocolate on the Cadbury ads. And this was simply overflowing, flooding my body, and my mouth was brimming. I felt no pain, I accepted what was happening because I knew that the outcome was innevitable and that there was nothing I could do about it. Just in the same way that my dad did. There was no grieving, just silent, calm anticipation. I felt myself begin to slip away, my muscles relaxing, my lips becoming relaxed as the blood welled in my eyes,my soul lifting to another place, and slowly I just slipped back into a dreamless sleep. Surreal.
I woke up feeling so calm and relaxed that morning. It was nice.
I don't know why I had this dream.
Maybe my mum just does too much housework.
