I have been having *weird dreams* over the last few days. Weird and violent. Nightmares in truth.
Yesterday I had one that involved a family of fifteen or so, all living in a ratty house in the middle of nowhere. People sleeping on couches, on rugs on the floor, and in rat-chewed armchairs. There were holes in the walls, filthy dishes stacked high, flies.. The living conditions were downright shabby and overcrowded. The scene finally culminated in the oldest member of the family--really old guy--ripping out a gun and mowing down most of the rest of them. There were a lot of other details, that's basically a summary.
Then this morning there was another dream that involved my boss, who in real life just left on maternity leave, giving birth to some kind of deformed goat rather than a human baby. Again, more details to that one, just presenting the key event.
I don't know what to make of this. On one hand I'm happy my dreams are back. I've been so depressed and exhausted lately that I haven't been having dreams. If I don't dream, my creative juices refuse to flow for the rest of the day and I can accomplish no inventive thinking, which means I can't write. Now I feel a little more creative, a little more connected to the world around me, and the typewriter doesn't look like such a fearful bit of metal anymore.
On the *other* hand, these dreams disturb me deeply. These aren't the kind of images I normally associate with my normal brand of thinking. The details are much more macabre than what I am used to, the subjects more gruesome.
It makes me wonder just what my subconscious mind has been working on in its absence.
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Actually, I'm going to share my odd dream. Jason knows it, but I think it bears archiving for sheer weirdness.
I don't remember the events leading up to this situation. I know it was dusk-to-night in the dream, during late summer. The colors were very peculiar.
There was a middle-aged man in a blue wheelchair. He had brown hair, ruddy skin, stubble, and he had the gnarled look of a man who has lived in the streets a long time. He was wearing a navy wind breaker. He had wild, blue eyes. I remember the eyes. He was gritty, even covered in a Hollywoodian smear of dirt.
He and his two cronies (who could walk, and I believe were young and Irish), had my family held up at my grandmother's house. He was the ringleader, though. They were clearing out her stuff. Grandpa was alive and oblivious. My uncle was there, I think and mom was there. I remember mom being there. We were trying to work out a plan.
So this guy was armed with a bowie knife. But I knew he was homeless. He was hungry and tired and even if he was evil, I felt pity for him. The big prize he wanted was a new PS3. I think it was a communal console, which would make sense if it was at her house.
I was so mad. I wanted the jerk gone, but I felt sorry for him too. So I took a knife and cut the power cord, so they couldn't sell it on Ebay. I also sabotaged the loading tray. I remember showing mom, winking, and we both grinned at each other and sealed it up. That was the last thing they wanted.
They piled it all in a huge, rusty truck with a white cap. Trailer trash vehicle. But I made sure to pack some food and blankets for the man. I was hoping he'd see the lesson. I was willing to give him sustenance and warmth, but I would not let him prosper from his theft and wrongdoing. I think that's key. My sense of justice coupled with my sense of compassion.
Then I remember feeling afraid that once they found out, they might seek revenge on my grandparents, who are helpless. I knew I'd done right, but I didn't think THEY needed to pay for it. I think I was debating confronting them. I can't remember, because the dream dissolved after that. Woke me up, actually. I think maybe at the tail end of the dream, they'd thrown something threw her front windows.
I suppose you could derive a duality complex from that. It also followed the typical pattern of my pitying an evil man, but finding his crimes repulsive.
My paranoia...well, I think that's normal. It showed that I care about my family more than me. I didn't want innocent lives harmed, even if I did what was just and right. It would also prove how futile my efforts in improving people are. :(
Kind of positive, kind of negative. Weird.
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