Dreams – Psycho on the road to nowhere

When I was in high school, I dreamt a whole variety of vampire dreams. They came in all shapes and sizes (including one where I became a vampiric lily that slowly killed all the plants that grew near me).

In this dream, I was running from a psychotic woman and a vampire that travelled with her. I remember being deathly afraid of the woman and just wanting to escape.

Eventually, I was running, and sometimes gliding, down a highway. It was just after dusk, when it’s not yet dark enough not to be able to see. There was pale grass growing next to the road and, at the time, I remember not wanting to go off the road because I was afraid there might be snakes.

Eventually, I just became too tired to run anymore. I realised that there was just no way I’d ever be able to keep running forever. Giving in to the feeling of despair, I stopped and turned around, waiting for her to catch up to me. For a brief moment, I felt a little stronger. Maybe I would be able to survive the encounter.

As she came closer and I could make out her face in the near dark, I first noticed how ragged and disheveled she looked. Her hair was stringy and matted here and there. Her eyes had dark rings under them. Her clothes were stained and creased. And she had a look of maniacal glee on her face as she got closer.

For a moment, I was struck by the fact that the sallow-faced, tired-looking vampire just a little behind her looked unnerved by her presence more than he looked interested in me. But, then she was close enough and I could see that she was me. I hardly recognised myself, but there I was.

I had been running away from myself. I had been chasing myself. I woke up a moment later, feeling chilled to the bone.

Dreams – Scenic views

I have a recurring dream (with some variations here and there) that I have been dreaming for almost 20 years. I am hiking in the mountains with either friends or family. The trail takes us along a narrow trail next to a steep drop to a river far down below (the river is always to my right). The mountainside looks like a National Geographic photo and the skies are clear. The path becomes more and more treacherous, but we keep going.

At one stage, the path is so narrow that I am forced to hug the cliff wall and edge ahead slowly and carefully. In some dreams I start falling, but since I know I can fly in dreams, I usually just slow my descent to a crawl and land safely below. If I fall, the dream diverts to other topics here. If I manage to keep on the trail, we keep hiking and eventually reach a steep climb that takes us higher up into the mountains.

We clamber over the black rock exposed here and, eventually, the trail leads to a massive cliff face. The river falls (always to my right) at least 300 metres to a deep pool. To get to the other side of the waterfall, there is a swing that is hooked over a protruding rock nearby. The edge is slippery here, but I can’t remember falling even once.

Despite having a crippling fear of heights, I get onto the swing and take the dizzying dive to the other side. If I land beyond the pool, I stand in hip-high grass and I look back to where the swing is, once again, hooked on the rock by the end of the trail. Other times I simply fall into the pool and swim to the edge.

In variations, I’m in a boat on the river. I don’t think I’ve ever dreamt as far as the waterfal in those dreams.

Dreams – No, seriously, Hell is in the mall

Two or three years after the dream about the little girl opening the gates of hell, I dreamt another mall/hell dream.

A few friends and I are walking in the same mall as last time, and we notice people our age slipping into service exits. After witnessing several more people doing this, we investigate. The service exit we enter leads down into a large, shadowy cavern below the mall. There is graffiti on the walls and all kinds of, what my mind apparently designates as, underground shops (shops with party gear, tattoo parlours, nite clubs and a sprinkling of shops selling items that would appeal to alternative culturally inclined individuals).

There is an air of mystery and the forbidden. The further we walk into the seemingly endless darkness, the darker and more dangerous the themes become. Here and there we start seeing strangely changed people. Some have angular features and elongated limbs. I see a few that appear to have no white in their eyes. Soon, I feel uncomfortable but also fascinated by this place. Eventually we leave.

We return another night to explore this dangerously attractive underground party. Again we head deeper into the cavern. We explore further than we did before. Besides the people with the strange features, we also see creatures that look less human and more like demons.  At first, we glance nervously at these creatures, but slowly we start feeling more dangerous ourselves. There is an intoxicating euphoria in the air and I realise that I care less and less about things that would have scared me before…and that I actually like the danger.

Rather like that feeling of guilt you may have after eating a family member’s carefully stashed birthday chocolate, the nagging feeling that I’m falling prey to evil’s seductive lure pops into my head. Just the kind of insidious and practically irresistible kind of lure that can convince good people to let go of their good values. And there goes my irrepressible sense of responsibility. I realise that I will carry an eternal sense of guilt if I stay here and succumb. And with that, I  also suddenly realise that I have inadvertently entered one of the upper levels of hell because of my incessant need to prove that I’m not an innocent goody two shoes. (Fail, yes? lol)

At this point I wake up.

A new chapter

You can’t make a living as a story writer. That’s what I’ve been told for as long as I expressed the desire to be one. Now, don’t get me wrong. The people who say that are right in most cases. And, who knows, maybe they’re right in my case as well. But I have to try.

If my blood sings when I read a book, watch a story or admire a painting, it roars when I create. Whether it is while sketching a character that has been pushing up in my mind, or obsessively forming the elegant curves of my handwriting, or tapping away at the keys on my keyboard, it makes me feel alive.

I’m sure you can see now why I have to try. Why it is absolutely imperative that I take a chance…on me. I have been offered this opportunity by, what I fondly think of as, the most accepting and loving life partner in existence. And I am taking it. He has shown me a world where I can.

So, here we go. Wish me luck and keep reading. 😀