Oddly enough, I read a posting from Tim that he was having trouble sleeping on Wednesday. Strange dreams haunted him.
The same happened to me.
This is my dream...
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The dream opens to me living in an open-air barn, the type you see at stock shows. This one in particular reminded me of the stockyards at the West Texas Fair in Abilene, Texas. However, the area was not inhabited by animals, but rather people, including me. Catch is, all of the people I saw were hipsters, many of them people I know from here in Lubbock.
So, I start to make my way through the barn, weaving and dodging through people. Oddly enough, it reminded me of the way Aladdin in the Disney movie would work his way through the market so skillfully. I could leap from pin to pin, which was amazing with my newly acquired agility. As I was leaping across the final pins, three in a row, I am about to jump to the last one when I see a young girl squatted down appearing to tie her shoe. So, instead of jumping to the rail of the pin, where her head would surely get hit by the vibrations of me jumping off it, I jump down in the open area between the pins. At this point, the girl come up revealing that she is in fact half horse.
At this point, I am quite disturbed that there is a human/animal hybrid here. This is where I live! Granted, without explanation, I for some reason know that I have been here in this location for a while, but have no recollection of why or how long I have been here. However, I do know that I want to leave. This just furthers my drive.
I begin to make my way through the aisle, turn a corner to the right and see the big open entryway where I can leave. However, it is blocked by two men. I immediately know that they are attendants. They are ensuring I cannot leave. I am frightened and run back to the aisle way and see another odd sight.
All of the people that were previously in the barn are gone. There is no one save me leaning against the doorframe of the aisle way and Tim. He is lying on the ground wearing nothing but an A-shirt and boxer-briefs, much like his costume for the “Alike in Dignity” promo video, but I know it’s not a costume. He’s dressed like this for another reason.
I notice he is rambling, almost incoherently. I understand what he is saying, but it is so disjointed, I cannot put anything together.
“Together… Her and her $800 haircuts… you don’t know… my love… “
After a moment, I notice the joining link between his nonsequetors: Emily. He’s talking about the girl he professes to love.
While he’s doing this, though, his eyes never see me. Glazed over, they stare at random points in the room, shifting quickly and sharply. His movements follow suit, jerking and freezing. It’s almost as if each statement he makes strikes him with a pain so deep, his frozen state is broken enough for him to try to move, but only for milliseconds at a time.
His rambling and jerking continues, but with each movement now, other people begin appearing in random places across the room. Daniel appears on the bunk bed across the aisle from the pens. Others around the room appear; people I don’t know. All are dressed in the same manner as Tim.
I now see him, so exposed, so vulnerable. I feel as if I am not looking at Tim, but rather his thoughts, so raw and true to what he is thinking. It was almost a physical manifestation of his stream of consciousness.
At that moment, thought, almost like a flicker on a television screen, he blinks over at me. Twice. Then, a long stare. I don’t know if he can see me, hear me, anything. But I speak.
Growling in my voice, I tell Tim, “You looked at me the way you used to look at her.”
This single statement immediately wakes him from his seizure-trance, and he jumps up. His face clouded with guilt, he begins to vehemently deny my accusation, but I press forward.
Even more emphatic, my voice shaking with anger, and passion, and sadness I repeat, “You looked at me the way you used to look at her.”
It’s at this moment I remember, Tim isn’t here. He’s in Korea. This isn’t real.
He is a hallucination.
With that realization, he disappears. I scream, scream at the top of my lungs for him to return. Everyone disappears. One by one they pop into thin air. Another revelation hits me.
I am crazy.
This is all a terrible, feverish dream cooked up by my psyche.
Frightened, I realized I have to get out of this place. I try to run out of a smaller entry way covered by a white sheet next to the bunk beds. As I run toward the exit a male figure in a black t-shirt holding what appears to be a large syringe flies toward the door. I run away even more terrified than before.
I turn the corner back to the large open exit and see the attendants. They know I’ve realized who I am and why I am here. They begin walking toward me and I whip around to run back to where I was. I see a doctor down the large aisle way leading away from the open exit. As he turns away from me he waves his hand in the air dismissingly and says, “Give her some cocktail of ‘valium-ish’ things to calm her down.”
Scared of what they will do to me, I run back to the pens and bunk bed area around the corner and find myself hostage. One of the attendants is to my right and a woman to my left. The attendant is the shorter of the two, dark haired, and oddly enough, very cute. The woman I see oddly resembles my friend Fred, both in spirit and looks, but is decidedly not her.
Seeing I am cornered without hope of escape, I climb into the top bunk bed. Both approach me as I quiver, frightened out of my mind what they want to do to me.
The attendant tells me they need to give me my medicine as I cry I don’t want it. I am terrified both of being stuck by needles and what affects the medicine might have on me. I see the attendant pull out what he has been instructed to give me. Oddly, it reminds me of a Wisp, as it has a full-sized toothbrush head on one end and a slightly curved, sharp end opposite. I ask if he brushes on the medicine, but he won’t oblige me the information. Afraid of the pain and the medicine, I begin to scream and flail louder and harder.
To calm me down, the woman offers me one of two small bottles. I ask what it is, and she replies, “It’s my soap.”
I realize she means hand sanitizer and desperately want some. I feel, though, that it is a trick as the attendant is following her hand and mine with his little wisp. I keep pulling my hand away, but finally attempt to get some of the sanitizer. I get a small squirt and begin to rub it into my hands.
This gives him the smallest opportunity to grab my hand, turn it over, and press the sharp point into the top of my right hand. It hurts, sharp and stabbing, but not as badly as I anticipated. After I comment on the pain, he pulls out a second prod and proceeds to stab it into my hand again without my consent.
As soon as the first prick hit me, I could tell the medicine was working. However, it only worked on half my body. The second followed quickly, and hit the rest of me.
Oddly, the medicines worked differently than I expected. Rather than making me sleep or tired, they instead make my body weak to move and kill my motivation to even try to move. I can no longer fight, both my hallucinations and the people.
Lying there, my body tired, incapacitated and weak, a final revelation hits me.
This is all a dream.
I stumble out of the bed and try to go out of the white curtained doorway only to have the man in the black shirt coming at me again. I run away. I try again to the same result. I do this three times before I actually awaken.
Such was my dream.
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