Wednesday, December 26, 2007, 05:43 PM - nightmares
I don't know why I have to be haunted by my father as often as I do. But it happens frequently that I have nightmares in which my father is a tormentor. Last night was no exception. The dream last night involved dad somehow managing to become director of Pretrial Services and then using his first official act to fire me on trumped-up accusations of incompetence.
On the way home from being fired, I ended up getting killed in a car accident. As my brain got smashed against the windshield, I wondered in that instant if it was really possible that God could love me, and if I would be welcome in the life-to-come.
Yeah... pretty depressing.
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( 3 / 1352 )Sunday, August 5, 2007, 09:36 PM - nightmares
I had an awful dream last night. In this dream, I could see into other people’s bodies and could see who had terminal illnesses. When someone had terminal heart disease or cancer, I’d see it as black blotches over the afflicted organs.
One woman had bone cancer and ovarian cancer and did not know it. But even then it was too late for treatment.
As I walked down a busy street downtown, I passed by so many sick and dying people. Some knew they were ill, but many more did not.
I did not know why I had been given this sight, since it didn’t give me the ability to do anything about it.
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( 2.9 / 1928 )Thursday, August 31, 2006, 09:57 PM - nightmares
I had this unpleasant dream in which a coven of satanists wanted to take a hot poker and burn my eyes out. They also wanted to pour sand into the sockets once they did this to me. I somehow ran away from them but ended up in a room with no escape and they were in the process of battering the door down.
The room was some sort of storage room with shelves of various supplies and was lit by a single bare bulb. There was a utility table in the middle of the room, which I pushed against the door to brace it.I knew the reinforcement wouldn't last forever. I really didn't want my eyes burned out by a hot poker.
Somehow, my awareness heightened and I was able to move along a dimensional line that brought me through different versions of the current reality. I didn't actually appear to physically move, and yet I had the sensation of a fundamental alteration in my position in absolute space (the 9-dimensional superspace, not the 3-dimenisnional normal space).
After 15 seconds of concentration, I stopped the dimensional travel and opened the door to see what resided on the other side. It was a business that involved itself in drafting.
I tried to apply for a job, but the business owner wouldn't hire me because I didn't have any references handy. In this new version of reality, references were of paramount importance. I later found out that the local version of myself used to be a solder and recently died in some foreign war (hence why I had no references -- the government thought I was dead.)
Money was apparently took the form of blue discs called "chips". I woke up before I got into a jam that would have required money.
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( 3 / 1936 )Tuesday, April 11, 2006, 03:18 PM - nightmares
For a really bizarre nightmare, try THIS one on for size:
I was in an old, dirty, dilapidated house. It looked like it had been unoccupied for quite a while. There were a few scraps of furniture that had been left behind, most notably a dusty old couch that was missing a cushion. The lighting was poor, as if by cheap 60-watt bulbs.
As I walked into the abandoned kitchen, I was assaulted by an Undead cat-humanoid that grabbed me by the throat. I suppose it was intent on choking me. I was able to reach a kitchen knife and I cut the monster’s arm. It dropped me to the floor.
We moved to opposite sides of the kitchen and started throwing knives at each other (and where were all this cutlery coming from anyway?) My *real* cat, a Himalayan furball named Scrunchie, made the mistake of wandering into the hail of missiles and was clipped by one of the knives. He wasn’t hurt badly, but it made him yell “MMMRROOOOW!”
While my mind was occupied by the welfare of my cat, the Undead cat-like monster fled. To where, I do not know.
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( 3 / 1865 )Friday, April 7, 2006, 02:51 PM - nightmares
I had a rather sad dream last night that ended badly. In this dream, I was not a human being at all, but instead I was a spirit sent to help a woman who was in an abusive relationship with her husband. Her husband was an emotionally cruel and manipulative man who also beat her on a regular basis.
The woman was a petite lady with pale blonde hair. She probably weighed 90-100 pounds. Her husband was about 6’2”, 250 pounds, black hair, and dark eyes. He kept her in place by humiliating her and convincing her that she was worthless and powerless. She had not been allowed to work, even though she was intelligent and had a college education. The man was some kind of blue-collar bozo who envied and feared her talents, which I suppose partially explained his motive for keeping her down and helpless. Their home was in a rural setting, so there were few nearby resources for help.
The odd thing about being a spirit was that I could read minds and sense motives. I could walk through walls, but I could not manipulate physical objects. I did have an additional power: I could absorb another’s pain.
And that, I believed, was what I was sent to do. I stepped into the same physical space that the woman occupied. I found that I could see out of her eyes and mine at the same time. Rather than accessing her thoughts directly, I connected with the part of her mind that stored the emotional overlays to her memories.
Hers was a deep hurt. Her husband was not the first man to deeply use and abuse her. Her sadness, shame, and misplaced guilt were as heavy as any chains. I absorbed the caustic energy of those emotions into my being. For a moment, I felt what she felt. It was sad and terrible. But the moment passed, and I disengaged from her mind. I think she sensed my presence, however.
My idea was that by absorbing her sadness and shame, she would gain the strength of will to leave her husband and start a new life for herself. What I did not expect to happen was that white-hot rage would fill the emotional void my assistance had created. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a big knife. She then went onto the front porch, where her husband was sitting on a chair and drinking a beer, and plunged the knife into his chest with a force that I found incredible for a woman so slight of build. The man made one gurgling scream and reached for his wife’s throat. She panicked and ran away from the house without even looking ahead.
She ran down the driveway and into the street just as a large truck approached at high speed. She was struck and killed.
I had failed in my mission. Not only had the woman died, but she had become a murderer before she died. It was just dismal.
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( 3 / 1850 )Tuesday, February 28, 2006, 11:45 AM - nightmares
What I get really tired of is being haunted by someone who's not even dead! I still get nightmares about my father (I won't call him "dad" because that would imply an endearment that does not exist.)
In this dream, my father owned a *huge* mansion. I was some kind of servant in his household. My current task was hauling in the groceries and putting them away. I did so under my father's glowering stare.
One of the items was a bag of expensive mints. I opened the bag and emptied it into a silver bowl he used for holding candy.
Well... my father saw the empty candy bag and accused me of eating all the mints. I pointed at the tray and said, "no, they're in this bowl".
He responded by turning purple with rage and screaming, "You thief! You worthless, fat, son of a bi***"
I tried to explain that I really had just refilled the candy dish, but he wouldn't listen. He followed up with calling me a bastard, a faggot, and stupid. He claimed that I was too stupid to do *anything* right, no matter how simple the task. He screamed that my life would amount to nothing.
I left the mansion in disgrace -- even though I had done nothing wrong.
Outside, it was raining and growing dark. I had the motorcycle I owned back in high school still parked outside. I started it up and found that the headlight had burned out. I didn't care. I drove away in the gloom.
The dream ended.
The thing that sucked is that interactions like that happened in real life ALL THE TIME between my father and I. He would fly into a rage and hurl every demeaning curse he could think of at me. It didn't matter if, later on, it turned out that I was right and he was wrong. He never apologized for a single thing in his life.
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( 3.1 / 1304 )Sunday, February 12, 2006, 01:52 PM - nightmares
The nightmare I had last night was a real doozie. It didn't involve my dad, at least, so that was a plus. But the vision was pretty bad nonetheless.
In this dream, there was this underground complex where people whould be abducted to and tortured to death. It sometimes took the victims days to die at the hands of their tormentors. The victims were all hooked up to wires and sensors of some kind, which, in turn, were connected to a bank of computers. The torturers wore white smocks and hid their faces behind white cloth masks so that one could only see their eyes. The tormentors had dark eyes -- none of blue or green, but instead were all black or dark grey.
It seemed that the purpose of the so-called experiment was to somehow collect the energy of the psychic imprint generated when someone dies badly. This energy was stored, augmented, and focused into some kind of weapon.
Beneath and to the right of the torture rooms, a single human subject was restrained to an observation table. He was also covered with sensor wires. It seemed that the purpose of the tormentor's experiment was to put the combined psychic imprint of dozens of bad deaths into the mind of this one single person -- just to see what would happen. They theorized that the influx of remembered pain and suffering would be a potent weapon that could drive the recipient into madness and suicide. The target, in this case, would fully experience what it was like to die in agony and fear -- over and over again, and concurrently.
Imagine what it must be like to feel another's death-pain. But also experience that kind of fear, betrayal, and hopelessness magnified a dozen times at once.
It was a pretty bad dream.
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( 3 / 1791 )Sunday, February 12, 2006, 01:34 PM - nightmares
One of the curses of my life is the fact that my dreams -- even to this day -- are ruled by darkness and horrors. Sometimes my father (the chief abuser in my life) is the main character in my nightmares, but other times the nightmares have other, dismal themes.
I don't think of my father too often during my waking hours, but at night it seems hard to escape him. It's like I'm being hauinted by an angry, hateful ghost -- but the abuser is still ALIVE! I just don't get it.
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( 2.9 / 1826 )
