unrepresented by a dream
music | Red Right Hand by Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds
We talked about dreams today in group. Some of these people are fucking nuts, that's clear. Okay? I know, I'm in the motherfucking psych ward, but still. Some of the shit out of these people's mouths...I know I'm fucked up, but not like they are. Or some of them. Not all of them. But seriously. I'm not that crazy. Not even close.
Whatever anyways, dreams. I've realized a bit of a pattern in mine, and I'm not sure what it says. I know what they said it says, but whatever. What do they know? I dream, and a lot of the time I'm not there. I have no representation in my own dreamscape. I'm not even like, a presence as an outside observer, watching events unfold, it's just events that are running through my mind on their own without any connection to me. Theories tossed around were that with my suicidal tendencies, that some part of me is still running on that, and that's why I'm not there. Because I don't want to be there. Or here, or whatever.
But yeah, I don't know. I'm just not there all the time. I don't know when it started, I was asked, and I couldn't answer. I keep trying to wrack my brains, and maybe it goes back as far as when I was fifteen? I can't be positive, but I think at least that long. I just don't know what that says. I told them about my dream, kind of.
About the girl walking through the streets of Marquette, blood running through the gutters, real post apocalyptic look to it. Where there's one street lamp, twisted on it's frame but alight, and I know there are things moving in the shadows. Can hear them moving around, twisting, the vague impression that everything around beyond the halo of light is in pain in some sense. Hurt, clawing, shifting around all piled in with everything else, searching for a target to take it out on. But then she's there. Standing in the light, and I know she's hurt. Damaged in ways, bandaged up in some, still bleeding from others. I know she's got a weapon, but it's one of those things where I know it, but I couldn't tell you what it is. That weird dream knowledge that drops in information regardless of the lack of existence in the rest of the reality of the dream. She stops in the middle of the lone streetlight, and the darkness edges in closer, waiting to overwhelm the second she steps close enough that they can snatch her back into the dark with them.
She stands there, looking around, catching her breath, and she reaches up to wipe at the blood flowing from her temple. I don't even know if I really can see a wound there, just the blood. Maybe it's not hers. Maybe I'm reading too far the fuck in. Either way, that's what she does, then she looks around more, stills, and wings burst from her back. And they're on fire.
The light pushes back the creatures, there's the screeching sound of pained screams from it that die out after a moment, but then she starts off again. Hears something...a scream maybe? The light closes in tighter around her once she's out of the street lamp's sanctuary, but the light she puts out keeps them just far enough back that the don't get her. After that, she's gone. I don't know if she makes it, or lives, or gets swallowed, or what.
I tell them all that, I just don't tell them it's Leija. There are of course tons of interpretations and symbols and all that shit, but I don't really think that's it. I don't know what it means, at all, really. I'm not sure I want to.
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