Friday, June 22, 2007

A Most Troubling Dream Indeed

So this one's short, and somewhat shocking.

So, if you have a sensitive palate, exercise caution.

All through high school (and even a recurring dream as a child), there was a blond girl that I dreamed about constantly. No one I actually knew, but she was more symbolic. My guess is that she's my idealized version of love, acceptance and sexuality something. Though the dreams have all been really tame.

Mostly, in these dreams, it's the two of us hanging out and doing general stuff. This dream was weird to the max, however.

The two of us were sitting there with a few other people. The other people looked a little out of it. They didn't seem to really acknowledge that we were there at any point.

The girl and I are sitting across from each other on the floor, and she takes out a really crazy sharp strand of steel, or something like it, and tells me, “I have to cut your face off.” This, understandably and expectedly, upsets me. She tries to console me with, “but it's ok, because I'll sauter it back on later.” I protested still. So then she says, and I quote, “You have to have your face cut off and reattached. You'll do it if you love me.” And I loved her.

So she takes the string, and starts to run it down my face. Actually, a straight line running up and down at my temples, and cuts off that whole section. She started at my jaw.

It didn't hurt, but I was very scared, and I watched pieces of my face fall on the floor until she got to my eyes, then I couldn't see anything.

I was very terrified, and I could hear what was going on around me, but I couldn't talk. This girl (who has never had a name) was trying to soothe me, and I heard a crackling noise and she assured me it was just the sautering iron firing up and everything would be over soon.

I felt her hands on my face, and I felt the heat of the gun, though again it didn't hurt, and I could finally see again (as she'd reattached my eyes), and I watched as she reattached my jaw and nose and lips and such. Then she showed me a mirror, warned me not to talk for a couple of hours until the sautering held fast, and said that I would have those scars forever now, that these scars were her scars.

And then I woke up.

Is there an interpreter in the house?

1 comment:

Kath said...

Sure...seems to be pretty simple.

You might have to re-evaluate how you want others (especially blonde chicks that may be potential love interests) to view you.

Maybe how you perceive people view you is not the reality.

Also, I think what you meant to write was 'soldering gun'.

As always, just my 2 cents.