Sweet Dream…or a Beautiful Nightmare
I think I need to invest in a dream dictionary.
My dreams are often quite out of the ordinary.
This morning, I woke up fairly terrified for my life.
The dream started off pretty normal. I was watching someone’s child, we were playing outside. I lost sight of her for a moment and she fell and broke her finger. My cousin was there, telling me I ought to be more careful. I told her I thought there were other people watching her, too.
Then I reached a stairwell, covered in blood. As I descended, I saw a decapitated body lying there. Horrified, I continued down, stepping over a few more decapitated bodies. As I reached the platform before the bottom floor, the blonde girl who was crumpled there opened her eyes. She reached for me and started talking almost incoherently about how she had covered herself in blood and was pretending to be dead so she didn’t kill her. I asked her who but the girl was frantic, she couldn’t explain. We started to run downstairs and there was a little girl standing there, long dark hair, a cold, pale, expressionless face. She was holding a large butcher’s knife and was covered in blood. She instantly attacked with a force and speed that was subhuman. She cut the blonde girl’s head off with one swift motion of her arm. There was a bloody mess of flailing and screaming and confusion.
Then I woke up.
To quote a tweet I recently read, “What the fuckity fuck?!”
That’s so messed up! I mean, I imagined I’d have weird dreams based on all the urban legends I read last night before bed, but I mean, murderous children?! I’ve never seen so much blood in my dreams before. It was terrifying.
And waking up in fear is not the most pleasant way to start your Wednesday.
So, I need a dream book. A notebook to write my dreams down in when I wake up [that is not invisible]. And a dream dictionary to decipher what the heck this means.
Because, seriously. What. The. Fuckity. Fuck.