Dream Log: April 9, 2002

I am investigating a crime. The sole clues are two fingerprints left in the room. They could have been there forever. The criminals capture me and cut me in to four pieces (a cross-section, in half lengthwise and widthwise), but I am still alive. I feel like a lobster tail. I am very afraid to move lest I fall apart. They threaten to continue cutting me in to ever thinner pieces until my sexual and other bodily functions fail.

---

NOTE: Follow the hardlinks for possible symbol interpretations.

I am sure this dream was influenced by reading the writing of iceowl about Antarctica, though I have had my own obsession with that continent for a few years now.

My friends and I were travelling to Antarctica. It was a school trip - my friends were still in school, and I was the age I am now, supervising them along with our teachers. We were totally unprepared for the trip - teenage boys trudging through the cracking crust of the snow in thin grey school trousers and shirts, shivering. We'd started off in a strange city at night, and my friends had been trying to persuade me to sneak out of the guest house and go drinking with them. I'd refused, because I said that I was responsible for them.

Unfortunately this meant that for the rest of the dream I was on the 'outside' of my friends, having lost their trust in some important psychic sense. We were trekking across a large, open expanse of windblown ice and snow, white dust swirling in the wind, the ground shimmering with blue streaks, and I was pushing them on to get to a shack where we could shelter. One of them started fighting me, angry that I was ordering him about. He was a lot bigger than me, but I tripped him over on to the snow and then put him in an arm lock until he gave up. I realized around this time that Lindsay was in the group, and it made me worried, because I knew I could take care of myself but now I would have to watch out for her too - not just because of the ice, but because I was making enemies who might try to get at her.

We were pushing for the South Pole. The closer we got, the stranger everything became - I had given up trying to supervise my friends, and we were all walking alone through the ice storms. Lindsay and I walked together through a network of ice caves with glowing walls, which seemed to be some kind of hospital, and there had been a terrible disaster in which many people had been killed. In one cavern, a nurse was trying to resuscitate a woman who was nothing but a severed head and part of a shoulder and arm. Her eyes stared straight ahead and her hair shook. On another slab, another woman's head stared at us, blinking. The nurse shoved it away, and it fell backwards into a snowdrift, blinking frantically in protest. Bloodied sheets of plastic and pieces of human matter covered the snow all around. We ran the rest of the way through the cave, trying not to freak out.

Later we found a snowmobile, and started skidding through the mountain ranges, crossing a deep crevasse using a ramshackle wooden bridge. I didn't know how much longer this would take, and I seemed to be immune to hunger and thirst and cold, but as we crossed the bridge I realized that I couldn't finish my journey because I was going to be late for work. Reluctantly, I made myself wake up and get out of bed.

I was watching the news and learned that a local bookstore had blown up. I decided to go for a walk, and ended up in the center of town, in front of the same bookstore. There were a group of my friends from high school standing outside, and I asked them if they knew who the bomber was.

"Yeh, it was Luke!"

"Luke? But he was always such a good person."

"Oh well. Not anymore. Anyway, we're protesting the bombing here."

They went on to show me how they were protesting. Someone picked up a small pyramid-shaped object and held it out to me. There were a few of them placed all around the perimeter of the building. She explained that they each had timers, and would explode at a specified time. I was shocked; they were protesting the bombing by blowing the building up some more! The bookstore itself wasn't completely demolished. The inside was gutted, but it was still standing. I stood in place for a few minutes, amazed at what was going on, until I noticed a small girl picking up a pyramid and chewing on it. I ran over to her, grabbed it from her hands and tossed it back towards the vigilante group.

I then ran across the train tracks, but kept falling over because it was riddled with trip wires. I finally reached the other side of the tracks and kept on running. Some of the vigilantes were chasing after me, because they thought I might tell someone what they were doing, but I managed to get away. I ended up at a drive-in movie theater and sat on the grass in the middle of a huge crowd of people. After a few minutes of watching a silent film, I heard someone from behind me calling out, "Lindsay!"

I turned around to see my ex-boyfriend DJ and his friend, Matt. They invited me to sit next to them, which I did, and Matt asked me if I'd seen the bookstore that day. I replied that I had, and he started laughing.

"I did that!"

"What?"

"I'm the one who blew the place! Didn't you see my group of 'vigilantes' who were out there 'protesting'?"

DJ and I were both shocked. DJ was angry, and stood up from his chair, calling Matt a prick. He walked away and across the street towards a community building. Matt simply laughed at him, and I was so disgusted by him that I didn't want to sit there anymore. So I stood up and started running towards DJ, who had already entered the building. The entire time I was running, Matt was singing a strange song at me:

"Stop, girl.. stop what you're doin'. I say stop, girl..."

I placed my hand on the door of the building just as Matt ended his song with "STOP!"

I stopped, taking his hint, and glanced around the perimeter of the building. There were cone-shaped objects placed all over the ground, and I became terrified. I backed away from the door and sprinted across the street as fast as I could. Just as I reached the other side, the building blew. I turned to Matt and yelled, "You might have killed your best friend!" to which he replied, "I have no best friend."

I ran back across the street and into the building, where I saw several blood-soaked people lying on the floor. I yelled out DJ's name and someone led me to a candle-lit room, where DJ was sitting on a couch with an expressionless look on his face. Other than the dirt and grime all over his body, he seemed unaffected by the blast. I took his hand and silently led him out of the building. He didn't say a word to me, but I told him "You know... Matt really isn't your friend."

Just last night I had what was probably my most disturbing dream in a long while. I think it warrants recording, either for posterity or merely just to clarify my thoughts. The order of events was a bit hazy so I'm just going to try to reconstruct it logically.

---

There's a naked woman standing in some sort of corridor. It's either dimly lit or just darkly colored. In any case she is clearly lit. I'm in a steam-roller, and I run her over.

The woman's body is on the ceiling. It is not deformed other than that several of her internal organs have been displace, most notably the liver. There is no apparent rupture, but she is clearly dead. She vaguely resembles some sort of stylized roadkill.

At this point someone, my companion, comes in. He resembles something of a goofy looking 50's movie star. We discuss something. There aren't any words but we decide that I should work on the lower half and he will take care of the upper half. There is no discussion of what 'taking care' means but we both seem to know. He leaves.

I take the lower half of the woman's body. I do not cut or actively separate it, I merely take it. I then proceed to remove the skin from the legs. I am enjoying it, not for sadistic or sexual reasons. I am just enjoying.

The scene changes from the corridor to a to a dim black and white forest. I am with a woman. It could be the same or a different woman. No attention to detail is paid. This time, however, she is dressed.

We are both trying to flee from something. I realize that we are running from my companion. My companion approaches with a sinister smile, and a menacing posture giving his previously goofy frame a sturdy appearance. I seem to realize that he is truly evil.

I wake up

---

The violent content of the dream itself didn't disturb me so much as the fact that when I was butchering the woman I was enjoying it. I've recently had problems with violence and overreaction, and I'm beginning to fear that I'm becoming a sociopath. In any case I think that the fact that I wasn't actually deriving happiness from cruelty, and that my companion was "the evil one" signify something.

I'm pretty used to having weird dreams, but this one was very realistic. It is the sort you wake up from, and it takes you a minute to realize you're safe at home in bed, and everything that just happened was a dream. Nothing more.

The walls are made out of white stone, and actually cold to the touch. I put my hand against one, and actually feel the rough surface of the rock press against my palm. I move my hand away, and there's water still clinging from the stones.

I look up to a case a winding stairs. There the sort where you can only see about five or six steps ahead, and then everything is dark. There aren't any windows around, but I have a vague feeling I'm in a tower. My first reaction is to start climbing the stairs, but it is too dark to see the steps. I start walking backwards a few steps a door. I see that it is locked, but I try opening the door anyway; it won't budge.

"Well, guess that option is out," I mutter to myself.

I find the only source of light in the stairwell, a torch. I pick it up and hope no one is going to miss it. I start climbing. The smoke coming from the torch smells strange, like some sort of incense, and it a deep red color rather then gray. I sniff it a few times and realize the smell is dragon's blood, strong, but not unpleasant. I start ascending the stairs, sort of cautiously, with the torch stretched out way in front of me, and the smoke is billowing. I can't help breathing it in, it stings my eyes and I start crying. I never cry, so now I know I must be dreaming, but I'm still compelled to keep going up the stairs.

I half expect the stairs to just trail off into nothingness where I fall, or just keep going off into eternity. I'm not sure how long I've been climbing at this point, but the stairs do end. At the top there is another door, this one is bolted, but not locked. I have a really anxious feeling. Part of me wants to open the door, but mostly I want to climb right back down the stairs and wait to wake up. For the first time I notice a mirror. I look at myself, and my reflection speaks to me.

"This is a dream," I tell myself, "nothing here can hurt you, so you may as well open the door."

I slide the blot off the door. It makes that terrific metal clanging sound you hear in castles in horror movies. I push against the door and feel splinters in my arm. To my surprise the door swings open, and I fall on my knees. The torch sort of wavers with the moving air, and then shines brighter then before. The light is now the same deep red color as the smoke.

I stand up, and brush dust off my pants with one hand, and hold up the torch with the other. I look at the walls, and they are the same white stone as before. The room is fairly large, so the glow of the red light doesn't make them totally visible. I walk towards the back of the room and find someone hanging against the wall.

I want to choke when I see who it is. It is my friend Stephen. He's in a sort of harness about ten feet off the floor, with his ankles and hands bound together, and his eyes are blindfolded. I notice that meticulously several small arrows have been driven through just about every part of his body, except the face and chest. I see a few sharp tips sticking out here and there, along with some black feathers.

I can't stand looking at him anymore, even though I know its a dream. I look down and see a bow and quiver on the floor. I pick up the bow and put it on my back, and then examine the arrow. The tip is barbed and silver, but looks a really evil shade of red in the light. I touch the tip, and it draws a drop of blood. At that point something lands at my feet. Instinctively I jump back and look up.

The blindfold has fallen off Stephen's face, and his eyes are open.

"For my heart, please," he mouths, and gestures with his chin towards the arrow.

Out of shock I drop the torch, and everything goes black. I wake up tangled in the sheets, and lay there a few minutes with my heart racing.