Dreams–Not The Influential Kind

And it begins.

You all didn’t know me when I struggled with nightmares inside of nightmares every night. In fact, I started this blog at the tail end of my nightmare tirade.

It’s been a good eight months since I’ve had a good, vivid scare in my sleep. That streak has ended this morning.

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Ever since I was young, I’ve had dreams more vivid than reality and they’ve always been extravagant. I remember a dream I had at the age of six–at least, I’m pretty sure it was a dream. The refrigerator danced from the kitchen into the bedroom/living room where my family slept. The door opened and all the condiments and items in the door were dancing too. You think, as a six year old, I would be entertained but I was fucking terrified. Then a 2 x 4 piece of plywood got puked out of the middle of the refrigerator and a snail the size of three humans heads slugged across it, and in its mouth were two sharp sabretooth-looking fangs, about the size of my forearm. It hissed and opened it’s mouth to devour my head and I woke up.

That is the first vivid nightmare I can remember. And it hasn’t stopped since then. Weird things happened with the clocks, with the house, e.t.c; sometimes thinking back on them I can’t discern whether they were indeed dreams or if my brain was playing tricks on me in waking reality.

In high school the streak really took hold of my sleep. Every night was one of three dreams: a tsunami, a robbery, or an alien invasion. The themes never deviated and that has not changed.

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The tsunami ones scared me the worst because I didn’t have any control of it (#symbolism), and woke up drenched in sweat.

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The robbery ones were extremely tense, but I never awoke scared of them, only shaken. In fact, they often bled into each other. One robbery would relate to the next, and then to the next–even if the dreams were not had consecutive nights.

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The alien invasion ones always woke me up feeling like I had actually left earth. In some of them I talked with my subconscious and woke up feeling freed, in others I was dissected. Sometimes I was just running and hiding like everyone else.

Once I dreamt of me killing myself and once I dreamt of me killing someone else; those were the only deviations from the themes.

I remember the majority of them like I experienced them in real life. They aren’t just dreams to me, but experiences, and I remember them like memories.

I’m someone who does not pay attention to my sleep pattern because it deviates ridiculous amounts. It’s like a kid walking down a sidewalk licking their ice cream on a cone and out of nowhere some jackass on a bike smacks the ice cream to the concrete.

But the weeks leading up to the hospital and the last four days afterwards, I’d been sleeping anywhere from nine hours to thirteen hours. Three days ago I woke up after five hours of sleep on the dot. The next day, five hours on the dot. Last night; five hours on the dot.

Last night the dream was a combination. It was a dream inside of a dream (another reoccurring theme of mine), with an alien invasion of sorts and a robbery. That’s new as well.

I remember waking up (in the first dream) to an alien creature with legs like an Orb Weaver spider and the body of a shrieker out of Resident Evil 6 (picture the two above combined together). The face was circular and the mouth elongated across the diameter of it’s spherical head. Underneath it was a body. The alien was ripping apart the body and tossing around the gore and gorging itself on intestines whilst simultaneously raping the shit out of the mangled corpse.

It noticed I was awake and drenched in sweat and I could not move. It went to engulf my head and I woke up (in the dream) in a cold sweat. I woke up my mother who was sleeping next to me (as a child, my parents and I had to sleep in the same bed because we only have a living room and a bathroom and a kitchen), just to make sure that she wasn’t an alien. She woke up and I sighed and realized it was a dream and went back to sleep . . . still in a dream.

Then my mother and I were driving to Safeway. I saw a shopping cart that was wheeling itself around in the parking lot and doing donuts and I knew there was some kind of paranormal force around us.

bloody-screamer_largeThen we were shopping when shots rang outside in the parking lot. Windows broke, people screamed, and blood sprayed. People were looting cash registers and grocery items for whatever reason and my mother and I were outside (suddenly), crouched on the ground by my mom’s car, face to face with a cop who was so distressed he almost shot the both of us. He pointed a gun at me and screamed “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I have to! I have to!” and I told him “you don’t have to do this.”

That freaked him out and he ran to the other side of the car to point the gun at my mom and he screamed something similar. She said “you just have to calm down.”

That freaked him out and he ran back to my side of the car and pointed the gun back at me.

This went on for about ten or fifteen dream minutes. I remember watching his little footsteps pitter patter back and forth underneath the car.

Finally, he ran off. My mother and I went into the store and put on store aprons and started helping put items back where they were supposed to be. People were dead, hanging through the broken windows and dripping blood on the produce. I told my mother “I think the reason we got to stay alive was that we were so calm when he wasn’t”.

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And that was when I woke up, heart pounding. The force that was in my dream was the force I felt in my face that moment. I have no doorknob in my door (courtesy of me and my father fighting) and through the hole I swear something was staring at me. I was too paralyzed to leave my bed because I feared if I got up whatever force was keeping me captive would strangle me. I looked at the time and it was 4:00 a.m exactly.

I wasn’t going back to sleep.

I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t want this string of nightmare bullshit to start again, not as vigorously as it used to be. I can’t handle them every night, it’s like waking up in the middle of a panic attack but instead of waking up it’s prolonged through the night and you have no choice but to deal with it.

For those wondering, yes, I can lucid dream.So I often realize I’m in a dream. But what that results in is me fighting against my brain through different layers of dream (literally crawling from sleep layer to sleep layer) until I break through the surface and open my eyes in this reality. Then I’m more exhausted than I was before I went to sleep.

Remember how I was writing about the different forces I felt on one of my walks? The one with the monarchs and the ripped squirrel tails? I feel that force that ripped those squirrel tails and bird wings are trying to get to me yet again; invading my dreams and my room and my reality.

Whatever. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I have math in two hours.

Don’t Shoot Me Bro

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Thank you to everyone who shared their experiences and made me feel not so crazy and not so stupid over yesterday’s post. I feel a lot better now about the whole Christmas thing. When I mean I feel better, I just mean the thoughts aren’t circulating as much.

Besides, I’ve got some pretty good ideas of something special I want to do for my boyfriend. It requires I get some kind of job and save money, so there’s my other big motivation to keep job searching. I don’t know if I want to do it on a holiday or just because. I’ll probably do it just because and surprise the hell out of him.

I won’t say much more on that, because if he’s reading this, he just found out about it.

I kind of already let it slip anyway because I was so excited. I didn’t tell him what, just that I was planning something. So it could come at him and any time and he’ll never have expected it.

Ever.

EVER.

Everyone shhhhh!!!!! Don’t say anything to him.

Enough about that. I’m writing right now because of what I saw.

I take dreams very seriously. I don’t think they predict the future or anything slightly, ahem, *magical* or whatever it’s call in psychology. Odd beliefs? Whatever. All my thoughts are magical because I’m fairy bitch, so step on.

That’s what I’d tell a psychologist.

Watch, when I’m licensed someone is actually going to say something similar to that and I’m going to have to resist the urge to high-five the fuck out of them.

I’ll probably high-five the fuck out of them.

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Hmm. What was I talking about? This song I’m listening to is FIRE ya’ll.

DREAMS.

That’s right.

I had two separate dreams but they kind of merge into one in my awake brain right now. I was living on my own. I don’t know where my boyfriend lived, but it wasn’t with me, and yet we were shopping together–probably because I have trouble going into grocery stores by myself. I was having trouble deciding what I wanted to eat. He suggested tacos so I was running around getting lettuce and tomatoes and cheese. Americanized tacos, alright? I like my fucking cheese.

Then fast forward to something else.

I was not myself on the outside, but I was in the mind of whoever this was. They were in the library of a school trying to find a place to sit. I mean, it was packed too. People were sitting everywhere and the tables were set up to where you could get trapped behind them. In the back was a little cubby where you could take a nap if you needed to. I found a tiny desk that I could pick up and move towards the center of the room, a place where the desk could fit without disturbing people. The librarian was smiling and everyone was talking, and had I been able to sit down I think I would have done some homework.

Something popped outside. Once. Twice, three times. I stared at the people around me and they stared back and I knew what it was: a shooter.

happy-facemaskThree of them, I think. One was in some kind of Ronald McDonald’s mask, the other two were characters from some kind of movie. I forget which one. But it was very specific. Some of us headed for the gym before anyone had the chance to come after us and there we locked the doors. We could hear the screams and the shots and everything was muffled compared to the heart beating in my throat and ears and behind my eyes.

I couldn’t see the fear on everyone else’s face, not even the teachers who were cowering just as much as we all were, but I could feel their terror. It wasn’t a dream that I was floating above just observing, I was fully immersed in it. My muscles were aching even though I wasn’t moving, I was afraid to open my mouth in case there was someone outside of the doors, I was thinking “my God what if I don’t make it out alive? What if I get shot?” followed by the primal instinct thoughts of “don’t get shot, don’t get shot”

Everyone likes to think they’d be some kind of hero in these situations but the truth is you’re thinking about yourself. You have a right to. It’s about survival.

The people who do enact courageous acts are not all acting by choice, a lot of it is instinct, survival instinct, the kind of instinct that lets one lioness attack an intruder and another lioness join in on the fight. We’re all one in the same species, we have a desire to survive and survival means protecting ourselves and protecting others. In our eyes they’re heros. In Nature’s eyes, they’re doing their job.

So before you’re so quick to say “oh yeah, I’d help” or, “oh hell no, I’d get the fuck out of there”, know you can’t possibly know the answer until you’re in the situation.

Anyway, the McDonald’s looking motherfucker burst through the doors and I remember her voice–it sounded like a girl behind that mask–screaming at people something along the lines of “this is what you all wanted, how do you like me now, yada, yada, yada.” I can’t remember her exact words because I couldn’t hear them; her friends were outside shooting other people.

I got out of the gym. I don’t know who else did, but I got the fuck out. Outside bullets were flying and I was ducking with my head and trying to find a road or something to get off the school property. My thoughts were to alert other people in the area, if they didn’t already know. The school was targeted, we were already in the midst of the violence, I couldn’t do anything about that. But for the people on the outside who might be in their houses with sound proof walls or something, I think it would be fair for them to know there are three gunman with the mentality warped enough to burst down everyone’s door and make it a true massacre.

And, in case no one had a chance to call the authorities. Outside help would be perfect.

1678Then I woke up sweating and heart beating and heart deeply saddened. I don’t know if any other shootings have been going on, I don’t have cable and I don’t look up the news because I hate a lot of the news stations. Besides Russia Today. They’re pretty truthful. The Young Turks on YouTube often have some good news stories to spend a few minutes discussing.

Anyway, I don’t know what this dream was for. Was it because I’d temporarily forgotten about all the horror that’s been going on? Is it there to remind me to never forgot? Because that’s what seems to have happened. People say “that’s horrible, oh my Gosh”. Then another shooting happens. “Oh my, this is getting worse”. and then another and another and not one person in power has taken much initiative to dig deep in the soiled pit of American histories and futures and presents and pull out a good explanation for all of this. It’s not bullying, it’s not rap music, it’s not metal music, it’s not mental “illness”, it’s not any one thing.

It’s a lot of things.

It’s how we raise our kids. It’s what they learn from the world around them. It’s what we’ve done in our past and what we’re doing in the present. It’s that facade we have around us thinking “we’re so free, and we’re one of the wealthiest country in the world, we’ve got the biggest military, we’re living much better than other countries, especially those third world bitches, God Bless America . . .” It’s that idea that we’re not racist, we’re not sexist, we’re not anything but The Pursuit of Happiness and Freedom, as said by whatever sheep of a president we have in the white house.

I’ve always liked Obama, and not because he’s “black”. But every president is a sheep.

The point is, we like to project an idea of “we’re okay, we’re progressive and we’re doing good” but the reality of it is hidden in the shooters and the hate crimes and the police and all of it. That’s America at it’s finest right now. You’re only as good as your worst citizen. 

We have a lot of work to do. In policy, in truth, in education, with our Youth, with our elders, with everyone. Shooters aren’t going to magically disappear because you lock up everyone with mental health issues. Prison isn’t going to solve anything. Therapy isn’t going to solve anything. It has to be worked out as a whole.

Sometimes I wish this country wasn’t so large. It’s hard to get an entire nation of this size to come together. There’s just too many different opinions and ways of life and ingrained ideas of the world and the self.

Anyway, that dream was a reminder, I think. Never forget.

When someone shoots up a school I’m sad for the families who have to live with that forever, I’m sad for the kids whose life ended way too short, but mostly I’m depressed over the fact that we’ve done this to ourselves.

I’m a part of the shooter, a part of the victims, a part of the families and a part of the society which grieves for the behavior, shuns it, blames it on disturbed mental health and selfishness, and then forgets. I’m a part of it all and so is everyone else. But they don’t see that.

One day I’ll list some of the dreams I had. The robbery ones were crazy. And the guy I stabbed.

Anyway, just some thoughts for today.

Rant: END.

 

 

I Could Never Be A Serial Killer

Another night of five hours of sleep birthed extravagant dreams of me and my boyfriend going on a murdering spree (he started it). It’s my fault, I watched too many serial killer documentaries.

I think I do better on tests after a short amount of sleep and some murdering dreams. Because I fucked the shit out of that Integral test. I apologize for the vulgarity if you are the sensitive type, but that’s the best way I can describe how hardcore I breezed through that shit.

Now, if this is overconfidence speaking than think how thoroughly disappointed I’m going to feel next Monday when I get that crap back with a big F stamped on it.

No, it was much too easy. There was only one problem I got completely stumped on and even then I winged it well enough to get at least partial credit. I felt bad for the poor kid with Asperger’s who always sits behind me; he looked like he was really struggling with his hand all yanking on his hair and shit. He went up to the professor asking about some problem he couldn’t factor. That’s because it wasn’t meant to factor.

But whatever, all I know is I marched out that room like try me, bitch.

Anyway, it’s not the first time I’ve had dreams of killing people. I have three main categories of dreams: Robberies, Tsunami’s and Alien Invasions. The Tsunami ones have pretty much died off, but for a couple years I had them every night. The Robbery category is rather new, and usually I’m the one talking the robber down from shooting up the store. They always sing the same songs (I remembered in one dream that I’d heard it in my other robbery dream and I told the guy in my second robbery dream about the first robbery guy who also sung the same song), although I never heard the song in the real world before. The robber always ends up shooting himself in the head at the end. It’s pretty disgusting.

The Alien Invasions are fun. I have conversations with my subconscious in those. It always shows up in the body of my friend then tells me these great lessons of life, always tells me I need to calm down, I need to focus, and they said something way more important than both of those and now I can’t remember. I probably wrote it down somewhere.

I only had one other dream where I murdered someone. I was in a black S.U.V and I took a knife and stabbed this dude in the chest. It felt like stabbing raw steak jello. I woke up disturbed.

A while later I dreamed a town got set on fire and then I jumped off the top of the building because I was just sick of living in a fire town.

I don’t know what was up with last night. In my dream my boyfriend murdered some dude and I was like whoa dude what are you doing, how did that feel? Then I forgot some shit. Then I killed two people and I was like whoa dude this shit feels horrible. I remember having a physical weight on my shoulders and that was how I woke up. I’m used to being disturbed now.

I’ve had a lot of crazy dreams, a lot of lucid dreams. Often I lucid dream when I need to get the fuck out. If I’m having someone chase me or if someone’s going to kill me or strangle me or whatever, I suddenly realize whoa, dude, I’m dreaming, I need to wake the fuck up. So I struggle a bit through the dream wall, through sleep paralysis, and then eventually open my eyes to the real world.

One awesome time I was having an amazing dream, although it’s a pity I can’t remember it, then some shit woke me up, some dude banging on the wall or something, and I got pissed. So I told myself go back to sleep and dream that dream. So I broke through some creepy dream wormhole and plopped down right back in my dream. Best day of my life. I woke up feeling like I traveled through some different dimensions. I probably did. I’m surprised I didn’t see a T.A.R.D.I.S.  Maybe dreams are a vision into another dimension. Maybe that’s why people chase me. They’re like, yo, get the hell off my fifth dimension lawn you whipper-snapper!

I’m not one for dream interpretation, mostly because my dreams are just out there–like the time I had one dream that my throat was swelling and that no one would believe me and I realized I was in a dream, so I laid down in my bed and told myself to wake up and when I did I saw a two headed dog in the window and I realized, Fuck, I woke up in another dream.

Interpret that. Do it. I’m serious. If you can give me an interpretation for a dream inside of a dream with a two headed dog staring at me in my window, I’ll give you a piece of candy.

I’m not in a “write about something important” mood today. I’m also cursing a lot. Fucking sue me. I’m in a good mood, and I can’t think straight when I’m in a good mood. That’s probably what makes my mood so good.