A GOOD DREAM
Created Thursday 15 September 2022
I am not good at remembering dreams.
I am not good at remembering most things.
This dream I still remember as well as the day I had it.
It was a good dream.
And that scared me.
It was night, in an area populated by upper class homes.
Private pools, entire walls of glass, soft purple and blue lighs slipped out the windows, illuminating the area.
Viewed from above, a group of people walk into a home, talking.
Some go up to the roof, one to the pool.
On a roof nearby, a beast lurks.
Me.
It leaps down onto the roof and tears one open, others watching in horror as the beast consumes.
One tries to run but it doesnt work. The beast abandons eating without hesitation.
It isn't here for food.
No one makes it away.
The carnage is horrible, police come the next day and are shocked and terrified at the scene.
The beast lurks.
I smile.
I woke up from this dream calm.
Not sweating.
Not afraid.
It was a good dream.
I'm happy.
Speculating as to what the fuck this was about.
First Point
This happened at a time in my life that wasn't good.
A time where I felt powerless, devoid of agency.
Practically a prisoner in my body, which kept failing me and would not get better no matter how hard I tried.
I needed to lash out.
I was angry often, and the rage was immense. Much beyond a healthy level.
I wanted to hurt people.
This dream did good.
It fucking snapped me out of that shit.
I was in a bit of a funk for quite a while after this, but overall, I changed for the better.
Second Point
I can barely understand me, so forgive me if this makes no god damned sense.
I may become more articulate over time, but even thinking is still hard for me.
I could generally feel that something was off for a very long time, despite not knowing what it was.
I could tell I didn't think how other people did.
I could barely feel anything, if at all.
Emotions were sparce.
My body didn't sit right.
I could tell something was wrong, and I didn't fit where I was.
As a child, I couldn't fucking tell what this shit meant.
The people around me were people.
I wasn't like them.
I wasn't a person.
This immense feeling of being out of place manifested into feeling as though I could not be a human.
My fucking existence was lying to people, and one day the facade would break.
And I was afraid of that day.
I was already alone, but I could lose even more.
Third Point
How my dreams tend to work.
This was not a nightmare
I know what those feel like.
I've had a lot, and they always play out the same.
I don't even remember it when I wake up, all that's left is terror.
And then it happens the next night.
And the next.
Eventually it ends, and I can tell when it does because I actually remember that time.
And it never makes any fucking sense as to why its scary, but these dreams are mostly emotion, so that overpowers it for a long time.
This dream wasn't like that.
It was isolated.
I wasn't afraid.
And it felt good.
It wouldn't have sat with me so much if it didn't.
Another thing to note was the point of view taken for this dream.
It was all in first person.
That usually isn't the case for me.
If "I" am even an actor in the dream, it usually isn't me.
Its more akin to the point of view character in a book.
And even when it closer to being explicitly me, it usually takes a third person perspective.
There is almost always a disconnect.
Here there wasn't.
That was me.