Bad Dream

I wake up,
it's a bad dream, no-one on my side
i was fighting,
but I just feel too tired to be fighting,
guess I'm not the fighting kind.
Wouldn't mind it
if you were by my side,
but you're long gone,
yeah you're long gone now.

- Keane "A Bad Dream" ("Under The Iron Sea" 2006)

Well it wasn't so much of a bad dream, well - it was utterly disturbing and also a bit frightening, but I don't think that 'bad' is appropriate, disgusting maybe. Just so you're warned, this is a dream I've dreamt and it is pretty icky and very sick*, so if you choose not to read on, then that's fine!

We are being chased by ninjas, some are dressed in tight black, and some in red - after falling through the floor we land in a pool with a massive splash and sink slowly to the bottom. Ninjas everywhere. We have drawn our swords, but the thick, devouring liquid is slowing us and it seems as an eternity before our feet touch the bottom of a very pleasant white-tiled pool.

The water disappear.

From above and from all directions - ninjas are plunging at us, and I strike at random, blood is pouring from my wounds as I gush at the enemies, back to back with you. I don't know who you are, but I know you, and you are with me - and I am so glad I am not alone.

At a certain point the amount of ninjas has decreased, we are protecting a little boy child as we run along the bottom of the empty, narrow and deep pool - no exits. It is like a porcelain maze.

A man with a face comes out from behind a corner as we stop for a second to catch our breath, and by saying he has a face I mean that he is not wearing a red or a black ninjamask - but I don't know him. Actually he looks like that Goldeneye badguy, kind of poorly animated, just like in the N64 game, we instantly know that he's the evil genius behind it all. His bodyguards just fall over without much heavy work, and then it's the boss' turn.
I don't know why, but it is me who must kill him, and I am standing there with a sword held tight in both hands trying to think of how it is most easy to kill a person. His hands are tied in the back, and he's kneeling down on the tiles, it is more like an execution, and still I can't think of a good way to let him go. For some reason I am filled with sympathy, I just want him to die quick and painless, and I'm thinking and thinking of how to make him do so.

Absurdedly I end up cutting my sword into his face, from the roots of his hair and down to his chin. But he doesn't want to die. there is very little blood, but I can see everything inside his skull, it splits open with ease - even though I am doing it slowly, and with a not particularly sharp sword. He doesn't die, he doesn't scream. He is kneeling, eyes popping out of his face in pain - and I just have to continue, because the more I linger the slower he will die and I don't want him to die slowly. I slice his face into thin slivers, and suddenly there's all this blood again, gushing from his mortal wounds, but still it takes time, and veins and organs are pulsating inside the slices.

But then, he dies. And there is blood and confusion and the person I'm with is yelling at me - we need to get out! We need to hide the body! You must hide the body! Quickly!
We have killed loads of people, but this one, the most brutal, the most horrible and traumatizing - he must be hidden. No-one must find out that we (I) have killed the poorly animated Goldeneye Bad guy. I don't panic, I never panic, I wrap him up - and I walk down the street. People are giving me stares, but I pretend not to notice. The body, still warm, is flung over my shoulder, but I have no trouble walking.

In fact, I have difficulty walking heavy enough - I am floating - and the citylights in the distance are swelling like balloons in pastel colours - if you have ever watched city-lights with tears in your eyes, or without glasses, then you know what I mean. And I float up to the sky, trying to walk on the ground, but I can't.

The End!
I woke up and thought my alarm was 'ringing the cows in' or 'calling the peasants for dinner' - or really, whatever sick excuse I was making up for it not to concern me and my sleep.

*I'm so crazy I'll never need drugs to make me cool. Lucky, lucky me!


Sigrid said...

Her forleden drømte jeg at jeg ble jaget av en skikkelig, skikkelig stor og grusom hai. Jeg var vettskremt og livredd, og den jagde meg opp på skjær og overalt, jeg følte meg ikke trygg noe sted.

Etter at den hadde jaget meg kjempelenge greide vi (noen) endelig å fange den med et helikopter, og heise den opp i luften. Da var den liksom temmet, og logret og vred seg i bæreselen fra helikopteret. Så tisset den meg i fjeset fordi den var så glad.

Jeg ba Axel forsøke å hjelpe meg tolke den, men han bare så på meg som om jeg nettopp hadde kommet ruslende fra månen.
Så det er godt å vite at jeg ikke er den eneste som drømmer syke ting!

Anonymous said...

Kanskje søstrene bør kutte ned på sukker, eller kaffe, eller sjokolade...før de legger seg?????
Tante Bister

mum said...

Eller kanskje de bør legges inn først som sist?

Anonymous said...

Og hva for noe galt har psykiatrisk helsetjeneste gjort for å fortjene å få inn de to der?
Tante Ikke-Fullt-Så-Bister

sigrid said...

takk...og takk!

Tora said...

ahhaha, jeg likte at den tisset deg i ansiktet.

det var så levende

Smylexx said...

Just what I was gonna say too!

But seriously, Put DOWN the ninja gaiden videogame, smash your zelda disk into little silvery shards and stroke a puppy all afternoon.

You KNOW it makes sense!

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