Tag Archives: dream

Escapade 22/4

I dreamt of war.

There was panic in the air but still children milled about. A small Malaysian town, old-school with one story houses, sandy roads, motorcycles everywhere.

I didn’t realise that guns were coming into play, even after everyone started screaming and running. Crossing the street, palm stretched out to say thanks for giving way. To a guy with a rifle. He shoots towards me and then I begin to run, straight for the line of houses, seeking sanctuary.

Everyone who shoots aims not to kill but for close shaves, at least in my case.

A lady takes us little ones in, brings us to the backyard and has us hiding under a blanketed table. We’re found of course; a soldier comes in through the back car-gate, talks a little, rifle held at the ready. It seemed okay still.

A young man appears and I’m his daughter, the soldiers seem to want him alive and well. He says he would go with them provided his daughters were to stay safe. The smiling officer says, “of course.” My dad takes me and we get into the car. Almost immediately after we hear gun shots. The benefactress and the other little girl shot. His face is blank but his eyes reveal shock and disbelief, or was it regret at his naivety. The whole way there, I crouch in the narrow backseat behind the passenger seat, keeping myself out of range for any soldiers aiming at my head.

Outside, a mass of panic and destruction as soldiers yell, shoot and barge into houses, screams and cries are heard constantly before silence begins to take over. I don’t cry but the fear, oh the fear. I remember thinking it was like Cambodia.

We’re in a seating room and everyone there is getting a job assignment as a taxi driver. My dad, the actual taxi driver, doesn’t get one. The impulsive hotheaded child that I am, I take the application forms; nope, my dad’s name isn’t anywhere on these. Thankfully the woman in charge thinks I’m helping to distribute, and so I begin. One of the men there was from the start of the dream, fearlessly (or stupidly) challenging the soldiers. Even now he says he’s not afraid. What a fool. But he says to me, with a distant look, that this reminds him of Sweden. I mention that it reminds me of Cambodia. We stay quiet in solidarity.

I’m in the toilet, my father tells me not to come out no matter what. The same bedroom as my parents in real life, just slightly bigger. All of us staying in it. 7-8 or us. It gets very quiet outside the bathroom, and finally I come out and climb atop my father, he’s smiling. They trust him and allow him to live, for what reason I’m not sure. But I know everyone else is dead.

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Escapade bursts

Been having more nightmares recently. The types that linger even though you’re dog tired daily and forget important details of your everyday waking life regularly.

1) He was raping girls, 2 of which were literally doll sized. 1 was a young adult. They started spilling vomit from their vaginas after he was finished and we went down on them. The older lady tried to push him away, shocked and repulsed but he pushed on. She eventually gave in and engaged in the fellatio as well.

2) I will update this when I remember. A little woozy right now

3) I have been telling myself that I deserve to be treated wonderfully by my future partner. Went to bed with drowsy fever medicine during the afternoon.

I told my friend that I deserve to be treated well. He leaned over, hand on the back of my neck to pull me in to kiss me. I pushed him away. He told me, “For someone who has so many criterias, you should have lower standards.”

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Escapade – 11th October 

My mom was angry, furious at me and in spite, I picked up the handgun, pointed it at my stomach upside down, and pulled. 

No recoil no heat, just pain. A very bad cramp, seeping blood that doesn’t drip. I felt the bullet within my stomach, pulling my centre of gravity towards it so my soul and mind and fear were buried in its middle.

M made his appearance again, offering to send me to the hospital. I get in the cab with him, the bullet now lodged deep like an unborn child, haunting my future. We switched cars, why? But the next driver was a policeman and I was scared to mentioned I shot myself with a gun, yet he waved it off with embarrassment, as though mentioning my use of a gun to hurt myself was shameful to talk about.

I lean on M’s shoulder, seeking comfort and love, and he leans his head upon mine. Home. Peace. Huge wrench of pain and doubled over.

Back to a house, everyone there. My mother was angry and not sympathetic.

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Escapade

My family is running, we’re all running. It started out nice and slow, taking shifts as waitresses, my sister and I. Then waking at midnight after my sister’s night shift, hearing her get ready to leave the house. She wanted to listen to my mom read stories to some children. I rush to get dressed and follow.

I don’t fully remember what happens here, but I know whistling was involved and being chased by this one person. Creature actually, chasing us, wanting to kill us, eat us. It got caught. But right when we were safe, turns out it could switch bodies and we were attacked by another from the crowd. Chains, swinging police, metal leash, swinging from the ceiling, huge date rape drug, sex before it is sentenced to death.

I’m running. Find two others, they’re my family now. We’re safe. And then he decides to fucking whistle, fuck dammit and now we run, Sprint through the mall and there’s 2 of then now chasing after us, blood thirsty, blood lust. My family, again. Gone.

Run into a house, my relatives, huge huge family. I tell them to keep quiet, hide, lower ourselves. There’s 3 of them outside, trying to get in. Never whistle. Don’t even make a sound. Door locked. Gate outside locked, they don’t seem to be coming in. We start to relax, my family fights. So loud, shouting, the kind of anger that sears your throat, you go mute from anger before a torrent of fire pours out. My cousin walks through the door with some friends. They opened the door. The creatures come forward and we scream, scramble for the small storage room. Press against the door lock it, I’m there with my uncle pressing against the door. Crying, “I’ve never had my family last longer than 24 hours.” He looks at me and says that it’ll be different this time. The young ones decide to throw pens and brushes on the floor at the door, trying to slip the creatures up. They pour blue water out under the door, hoping to drown them, deter them. Blue water seeps back in from the top, “STOP!” but it’s too late, the door bends at the force of outside waters trying to flood in. Like a plastic tarp, why is the door like a plastic tarp nothing is helping we can’t keep the water out and Woosh. Our room is moving. Moving out the house. Landing on the road outside the house. A plastic room. The creatures advance we run next door begging for access.

They said yes. Gorgeous mansion. That was too easy. But we need to run. We run in.

I run up the stairs. So many levels but I keep running my friend following behind. Try to hide in a huge grandfather clock just like in the stories hide in there, try to push the clockwork manually so they won’t suspect.

“What are you doing?”
It’s him. I’m clearly not even fitting. Butt in, body contorted, door still wide open. Sigh. I tried.
We walk to the railings and look down over the ground floor of the mansion. We talk, he asks why I’ve been running, I said I wanted my family alive, I wanted to keep them all alive. We laugh and joke and he teases and smiles. My friend comes over and she jokes and laughs, leaning on the railings.

You shouldn’t lean like that, it’s not safe.
It’s alright.
He looks at her. And smiles. He flips her over the railing and she falls to the ground floor.

Creatures are everywhere tearing apart my family. There’s yellow liquids running down their legs. Urine, I’m told. One creature is wiping the yellow off its feet, with a swaddled infant. He casually tosses the baby aside after he is done. I’m there, looking, and one of the creatures, the older matronly figure, gives me a white bar. Have this instead. It’s coconut and some other gelatinous matter. Two of them look at it and each other, before staring curiously at me at the matronly creature.

Sitting at a glorious dining table, all creatures seated around, talking, having tea. “He likes you. Lord _______.” I recall him almost putting a baby hamster in his mouth, and seeing my face, he puts it away. The crunch is almost similar to that of the coconut in the bar.

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3rd Nightmare in a row

I wouldn’t say it was a nightmare as Hollywood imagines it. No scary monsters, no sudden ghost or monster popping up and scaring me awake – though I had one a couple months back, had to get a hug in the middle of the night from fear – but these three nights have been filled with nightmares that are intensely stressful scenarios.

I dreamt of Chris last night. I was out with friends at… a park of sorts. He was across the lake, or on the lake canoeing. He was bigger, more muscular to an extent but clearly denser and wider. His hair was a crazy afro mess. It was uncomfortable seeing him walking around constantly flexing his biceps. He came over, sat down, and tried to be conversational with everyone, but me. Stares of pity filled the table and I sat in quiet discomfort, minimal eye contact and stiff body posture. Finally got up and left, half running away from him. From them.

He follows, so what else can I do but hop onto the train and hope to lose him? He follows.

Next thing I know, I’m in a courtyard, and using a balloon float up towards a flaky pastry cloud, coasted with sugary gloss like Ritz’s Strudels. I’m not just literally running away from my problems, I’m flying away from it. He becomes Jon in how I was going to find him at his place, but it’s complicated to journey there.

Then I’m at my booth, my magazine’s booth. But who are these girls selling our magazine’s stuff? We have merchandise… we have MERCHANDISE? These girls are punks, they don’t care for the magazine, they don’t care for the store. Why are they here, what’s happening. I take charge and give notes on what needs to be rearranged and sold and explained or given descriptions. Nothing, they listen to nothing and no one.

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