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3rdragonRecently, I've been having a lot of dreams that I don't remember. You might think that this is a normal state for me, but the difference now is that I remember remebering the dreams. I have a feeling that I dreamed, but can't remember the dream, only an impression of strangeness, or of an artistic style featuring orange (ever seen the movie Hero? Like that; Snow's orange outfit with the swirly sleeves), or merely a definite feeling that there was actual plot. Of late I've been waking up slowly, and sort-of half-continue the dream, aware that I'm dreaming. But I'm not conscious enough to make a decision to fix the dream in my mind, so by the time I get downstairs, all I can say for sure is that I dreamed. I did remember the one about vampires (and I might even tell you about if if this post doesn't get too long), and the two dreams I had last night.
Mom and I were driving downtown. There was someone with us, who in the dream was a friend from school, but who isn't actually someone I know. We parked in one of the lots, and walked about two blocks to get to a building (the parking lot was actually across from the building, but the entrance was on the other side). I don't remember what the building was, or why we were going there. Once we got inside, mom went off to do whatever she was doing. This beginnning part is fuzzy, but I know that we ate lunch in a cafeteria area, and then wound up in the basement of the building. It was made of grey stone, and not terribly well lit. We had finished whatever we had come for, and I was just going to suggest that we look for a back way out so that mom wouldn't have to walk around the block again when my friend heard a noise. I listened and heard it too; a high, thin sound, like a child crying. Whatever the building was, it wasn't a place with children in it, and my friend asked one of the women who worked there what the noise was. The woman got an excited look on her face, and gathered showmanship around her like a cloak. I could tell that there was a story, and that she intended to milk it for all it was worth. In fine storytelling fashion, she explained to us that there were three doors off of the cavernous basement; one to the stairs on the first floor, a second to the back entrance, aaand: this one. We peered through the window in the top half of the door and could make out a square room with dust swirling around it violently. Aside from the dust, the room was bare, but it was definitely the source of the noise, which was now clearly someone crying. I felt uneasy even before our self-made tour guide told us that this room was haunted, something to do with a fencing accident. With relish, she unlocked the door and beckoned us inside. I wasn't keen on it, but I wasn't about to go from being someone who'd never had adequate proof of the existance of ghosts to someone who was too scared to go in without even investigating. Because of that hesitation, I was the last one in, and my friend chided me to shut the door, that the draft was disturbing her (the ghost, that is, not my friend). I didn't fancy shutting myself in a room with a disturbed ghost, either, but I'd gone this far, and our guide didn't seem to think that there was any danger, so I shut the door. I didn't feel anything but wind, dirt and cold, but I realized that my friend was having trouble standing up. She was babbling disjointedly, and seemed to be making contact with the ghost in some manner. I gathered that the ghost was a young, newly married woman, and that she and her husband had been practicing fencing together, but that the blades had somehow been live steel, not foiled or dulled, and that she had killed him without even knowing the danger. That didn't explain why the woman was haunting this room, but my friend was trembling violently and looked like she was about to faint, so I figured that it would probably be better to get her out of there and leave my curiosity unsatisfied. Our guide helped me get her out and onto the first floor, and then, in the habit of dream people, disappeared once I stopped thinking about her. Somewhere in all this, I had gotten gunk all over my hands, and since my friend was recovering, I persuaded her to wait long enough for me to wash them off in the kitchen of the cafeteria area. Then we both headed back to the car; neither of us had any more desire to search for a back exit.
I awoke, totally and completely. The dream hadn't been truely scary, but I had spooked myself enough to have a frission all down my back. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, and the clock downstairs struck five. Despite being wide awake, I fell back asleep almost immediately.
The second dream was very blurry at the beginning; it involved catching Regional Rail to the 23 bus to get to a housepainting job out by Kitchen's Lane (never mind that the 23 runs perpendicular to that) and getting into a conversation with the only other passenger on the bus about having forgotten to bring a waterbottle. I found myself at Weaver's Way Food Co-op. I went up to the second floor and ran into Julia - both of her, because she had time-traveled from the future and was hanging out. The second Julia didn't look all that different from the first Julia, but they each wore a nametag to help keep them straight. The first one's just said JULIA, but the second's said JULIA (after then). The nametag had been different the last time I had seen her, so I deduced that this was on a different trip than the last time I had visited. Julia got along with herself very well - like a pair of mischeivious twins. We had a lovely chat, and I awoke to the sound of Isaac pounding on my door to tell me it was time for breakfast. I didn't think that he needed to be quite so loud, but I had agreed that I would get up for breakfast if mom made creamed eggs, so I wasn't too annoyed. I really must tell Julia if I see her before I go back to school. (For those of you who don't know, Julia is a family friend. She works at WW Co-op, which is across the street from the school I went to for elementary, and I've known her since about the time I was in kindergarten.)
I was going to tell you about the vampire dream I had last week, but mom's back and wants the computer, so that'll have to wait.
M.
Mom and I were driving downtown. There was someone with us, who in the dream was a friend from school, but who isn't actually someone I know. We parked in one of the lots, and walked about two blocks to get to a building (the parking lot was actually across from the building, but the entrance was on the other side). I don't remember what the building was, or why we were going there. Once we got inside, mom went off to do whatever she was doing. This beginnning part is fuzzy, but I know that we ate lunch in a cafeteria area, and then wound up in the basement of the building. It was made of grey stone, and not terribly well lit. We had finished whatever we had come for, and I was just going to suggest that we look for a back way out so that mom wouldn't have to walk around the block again when my friend heard a noise. I listened and heard it too; a high, thin sound, like a child crying. Whatever the building was, it wasn't a place with children in it, and my friend asked one of the women who worked there what the noise was. The woman got an excited look on her face, and gathered showmanship around her like a cloak. I could tell that there was a story, and that she intended to milk it for all it was worth. In fine storytelling fashion, she explained to us that there were three doors off of the cavernous basement; one to the stairs on the first floor, a second to the back entrance, aaand: this one. We peered through the window in the top half of the door and could make out a square room with dust swirling around it violently. Aside from the dust, the room was bare, but it was definitely the source of the noise, which was now clearly someone crying. I felt uneasy even before our self-made tour guide told us that this room was haunted, something to do with a fencing accident. With relish, she unlocked the door and beckoned us inside. I wasn't keen on it, but I wasn't about to go from being someone who'd never had adequate proof of the existance of ghosts to someone who was too scared to go in without even investigating. Because of that hesitation, I was the last one in, and my friend chided me to shut the door, that the draft was disturbing her (the ghost, that is, not my friend). I didn't fancy shutting myself in a room with a disturbed ghost, either, but I'd gone this far, and our guide didn't seem to think that there was any danger, so I shut the door. I didn't feel anything but wind, dirt and cold, but I realized that my friend was having trouble standing up. She was babbling disjointedly, and seemed to be making contact with the ghost in some manner. I gathered that the ghost was a young, newly married woman, and that she and her husband had been practicing fencing together, but that the blades had somehow been live steel, not foiled or dulled, and that she had killed him without even knowing the danger. That didn't explain why the woman was haunting this room, but my friend was trembling violently and looked like she was about to faint, so I figured that it would probably be better to get her out of there and leave my curiosity unsatisfied. Our guide helped me get her out and onto the first floor, and then, in the habit of dream people, disappeared once I stopped thinking about her. Somewhere in all this, I had gotten gunk all over my hands, and since my friend was recovering, I persuaded her to wait long enough for me to wash them off in the kitchen of the cafeteria area. Then we both headed back to the car; neither of us had any more desire to search for a back exit.
I awoke, totally and completely. The dream hadn't been truely scary, but I had spooked myself enough to have a frission all down my back. I stared at the ceiling for a few moments, and the clock downstairs struck five. Despite being wide awake, I fell back asleep almost immediately.
The second dream was very blurry at the beginning; it involved catching Regional Rail to the 23 bus to get to a housepainting job out by Kitchen's Lane (never mind that the 23 runs perpendicular to that) and getting into a conversation with the only other passenger on the bus about having forgotten to bring a waterbottle. I found myself at Weaver's Way Food Co-op. I went up to the second floor and ran into Julia - both of her, because she had time-traveled from the future and was hanging out. The second Julia didn't look all that different from the first Julia, but they each wore a nametag to help keep them straight. The first one's just said JULIA, but the second's said JULIA (after then). The nametag had been different the last time I had seen her, so I deduced that this was on a different trip than the last time I had visited. Julia got along with herself very well - like a pair of mischeivious twins. We had a lovely chat, and I awoke to the sound of Isaac pounding on my door to tell me it was time for breakfast. I didn't think that he needed to be quite so loud, but I had agreed that I would get up for breakfast if mom made creamed eggs, so I wasn't too annoyed. I really must tell Julia if I see her before I go back to school. (For those of you who don't know, Julia is a family friend. She works at WW Co-op, which is across the street from the school I went to for elementary, and I've known her since about the time I was in kindergarten.)
I was going to tell you about the vampire dream I had last week, but mom's back and wants the computer, so that'll have to wait.
M.
