One Wonky Dream

Last night I had the most convoluted, weird, and morbid dream imaginable—and it also is burned into my mind from the realness of it. I can’t really describe it in words, but I’m going to try, so here goes:

First, it starts off as kind of a fade-in into some tv show maybe. I’m coming home from work to my house and as I walk in I see Karl, just finishing up making supper. We sit down to eat and he tells me he has a plan that will make us millions of dollars. Intrigued we talk. He tells me he has done this before and there is no sweat to it. We’re going to get the money from the high school I work at. Since I already work there, I can get him a job there and we can work our magic and get the money.

Flash forward ahead probably a month. Karl and I are sitting in a classroom correcting papers as he tells me that he is about ready to take action to get the money (he never truly says how he’s going to do it, except that the money will come in our paychecks). First, he has to do some things, though, and he says this with an evil glow in his eyes. I feel fear, lots of it—tangible fear, but I don’t know of what.

Flash forward again and we are sitting back at our home. He tells me that I must “eliminate” someone that is going to be coming down the road. Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are living in a slightly pre-Civil War time period, and guns are very hard to come by. I would have to kill this person with my sword that he had given me, and it must be done in the shadows—not in the light. I felt the overwhelming fear again, but I knew that I must do it. I pick up the sword and notice I am covered in sweat. I’m nervous. The man comes down the road. I slowly follow him and notice he is wearing a large trench coat and a hat. Because of this I can’t even begin to tell who this person might be. He enters a shadow and I quickly move up behind him and slit his throat. I feel a combination of ecstasy and grief, with a pang of guilt. Knowing that I had done what I needed I went home. Karl said we would not be able to get the money for a few more days. I felt paranoia come over me. I had killed a man and we had to stay here.

Flash forward to the next night. I am walking home from the school late at night and I am being followed by a man that I can’t see but only hear. I’m scared as the man moves closer. I turn around to see who it is and at that moment, a man who looks somewhat like Anthony Hopkins, slits the throat of the man who was following me with a sword—exactly as I had done to the man the night before. He glares at me, smiles, chuckles to himself, and walks away. I run home and tell Karl this, but he tells me not to worry—everything is fine. He then proceeds to go outside and as he walks out the door I hear a gun shot and see Karl’s body crumple to the floor. Standing a little beyond him was the man again, grinning evilly. Again he walks away.

The next day, a bunch of my friends come to stay with me (all of them men) to help keep me company and protect me. In the middle of that afternoon, after we had set up some preliminary defenses, our house is surrounded by screaming people all in white robes and all waving their hands. They come up to the windows and shove their hands through the glass and wave their hands at us. All of the men that were staying with me run outside to fight them, but as they do they run into the killer. He has many of these robed people around him, and as I look closer I notice they are all women. The men surround the killer and his women (not all of the women are with him, though). They jump at the women and try to fight them, but they are instead put under some type of spell by the women and they start conversing with one another instead of fighting.

I have been watching all of this from inside my house. I walk into the kitchen and see one of the robed women sitting there. Two more come in and I notice I know all of them. They are close friends of mine (their faces have no correspondence to anyone I know, but I have that feeling of them being my friends). Seeing them I fall to my knees, grasp my necklace (that is a cross), and begin to weep. Not wanting to be in the company of the robed women, I run into the other room.

As I get into the other room (a living room, I think), one of the women had followed, but now as she came towards me, I notice that they aren’t just robed women, they are angelic. She sits down next to me and asks what is wrong. I tell her everything has gone wrong for me—everything I do seems to backfire. She is quite sympathetic to me and she wraps her arms around me in a loving hug. At this the rest of the angelic figures from the kitchen come in (there seem to be five women in total now). We all sit down on the floor and talk about things (I don’t know what we were talking about, but it was very funny to me). While we were talking, I glanced out one of the windows and saw all of my men conversing with the killer, laughing, and looking my way every now and then. I felt that tinge of fear once again, but as I looked to my side and saw who I was with, I again felt at peace. After a long while of talking, I laid my head to rest on the lap of the angelic woman next to me. I looked up at her, smiled, she smiled back, and then I closed my eyes.

Then I woke up. I usually have no recollection of dreams—ever. When I do, however, they are so vivid that they seem like real life and I can’t forget them. Last night was one of those dreams and it has been running through my head all morning. The images are so real that I keep wondering if I should be watching out for a killer, or searching out those angelic beauties. I love dreams. Sometimes I wish I could live in a dream because in dreams everything makes sense, no matter what.