So, those of you who are new won't know that this started off as a dream diary back in the day. Not really for anyone's pleasure but my own. Because, lets be honest, other people's dreams are boring. Well, sod the lot of you, this is still *my* blog (ish) and as such is still where I put dreams when I can be arsed to write them up.
The One With The Spectromentors...
...was the first properly scary dream that I've had in MONTHS. I awoke scared literally rigid (no snickering at the back, Bradbury), and as my thalamus slowly gave me back motor control I also tried to get my pulse under control, but it took some time. For the first time since I arrived in Nigeria I felt cold.
I was playing (ie. the dream was from the point of view of) a down-and out, probably ex-drug addict
pregnant girl. Maybe 19? 20? Torn and filthy clothes covered, skinny arms and legs topped
with tangled and dirty, blonde hair and hollow, but piercingly blue eyes. Very
odd thing, playing a member of the opposite sex. Something akin to playing an
animal, which has happened before. you end up watching parts of the dream in
third person and really struggle to hand on to the first person memories when
you wake.
(A Spectromentor - Modified from
Joel Adamo)
I had been, for the
last few months, pursued from squat house to squat house by these pale ghostly
people with white eyes (think half dementor of Azkaban and half spectre of Ci'gazze)
who preyed on people that weren't loved or didn't love. They used contact. They had to touch you. And then they sucked out all joy, pride, hope and logic you had managed to save up. They never moved very fast, but the never stopped to sleep, or eat, or rest. They had eventually,
after weeks of gliding ever closer, surrounded me in a half burnt out and
mouldering house at the top of a deserted hill.
(The house at the top of the hill - modified from
Darren Cliff)
As they drifted slowly up the hill I was forced into labour
and then as they came through the doors and windows I gave birth (not something
that I think I imagined in any way correctly, but I'm a guy, what do I know? There was no baby and then, all of a sudden there was a little slimy, larval human being)
and as they came into the room the baby gave its first cry and looked at me. I
have never felt so connected to anything. It was imprinting, or instinct, or
something. Whatever it was, it was love.
Obviously, instantly the chasers turned around and began to drift away. Finally
happy and free after months of persecution I chased them from the house (which
was no longer a mouldering ruin and was now decorated in yellows and oranges).
But as the last on left through the door, I tried to shove it out.
The ghostly, pale thing spun around, caught me by the wrist, its hand was
FREEZING cold. Burning cold. And then reached for the baby. Quick as a flash
the thoughts flew through my head unbidden: Don't hurt the baby! If there's no
baby, there's no-one for me to love, if there's no-one for me to love you'll
chase me again! Instantly, I know that loving someone for a reason isn't love.
I knew that not only was I doomed, but that I was a fraud, a disgrace to
parenthood and I deserved to have my soul ripped out through my heart. They
started drifting back in through the walls and floor this time.
And unable to
think my way out of it, I checked out.
