eight breasted beast

I am going to the home of Ezy, a fiercely libertarian New Mexican savage–a massive amount of construction is happening, new red brick pathways are being either being put in or torn out. I get into the house and Ezy’s hair has been shaved on the sides, much like mine was a few minutes before. I left mine long at the bangs though, despite being told it wasn’t a fashionable decision. Ezy’s is shorter. He leads me through the house, Dorthy is with me. We pass his family, all of whom have the sides of their heads shaved, and I spot a tiny sculpture of a deformed head that his wife has made. I comment on it and say that I like her work. We are led into a tiny room that has glass walls–it’s almost as if we are on display in the room. The room is cornered in the house, and only two walls are made of glass and don’t have a right angle parting them, instead the glass is curved. Suddenly it goes dark and think, opaque walls form–I start to feel an immense uneasiness grow within me. Dorthy turns violent. Her arms elongate and she digs her nails into the 10 foot high ceiling, which looks like an oriental rug, and begins running back and forth tearing it down. She then starts running around the room destroying the walls with her shoulders, she is moving at a terribly inhuman speed and full of deranged power–she’s obviously possessed with something of a malignant nature. The lighting begins to flicker violently and then, as if the destruction she was causing was some sort of unholy rite, a space in the center of the room clears itself of all the debris. I am in the center of this awful cyclone, and I begin to stretch out unnaturally. My face begins to elongate downwards, my eyes cave in to small black points. I feel this transformation happening in my bones, and simultaneously I am watching it happen from across the room. My nose disappears, and my mouth turns into a tiny round hole. My face looks similar to that of a truncated anteater’s and black, stripped marking line the sides of my face. I begin to grow breasts, eight of them form–they are of various sizes and shapes and the nipple is uniquely different on each. Dorthy begins batting at my breasts, taunting me, but I don’t have full control of this new body. It is only responds with tiny movements as I strain within it. I am in a terrible state of panic, there is a part of me that is aware that I am asleep and knows my mind can not heal from this metamorphosis if it is allowed it to continue–so with all my might I will myself awake. ♨

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shooting spree

I’m at a huge cafe with various seating areas. It’s not quite like a cafe I know in reality but nevertheless it looks familiar.  There’s rooms in the back, too.
I’m talking to someone in a car with four people in it. Suddenly I realize that the person next to the one I’m talking to is my ex-boyfriend whom I didn’t meet but somehow wanted talk to for a long time.
Suddenly I’m in the car and sitting next to my ex. He looks younger, thinner and smaller than I expected and not as mature and attractive as I expected.

I’m in a big building now and I think it’s a school. There will be people of all ages later though. A killing spree is going on, someone wants to shoot me. Probably my ex or Michel.
He has a small but long black gun. One shot kills. I think someone gets shot and I can see a small bloody hole on the person’s back. Everybody in the labyrinthlike school building, a lot of people are screaming and trying to run away.
The shooting person who is trying to catch me wears a thick dark blue and red checked shirt.

We, me and all the other people, are running through the corridors of the big building and I feel like I could get shot every second and that the gunman knows exactly where I’m going.
At some point I’m in a room or corridor with a lot of high white lockers and think it’s the best idea to just hide inside one of them.  As the corridor gets quieter because the majority of people ran away I see that more strangers are hiding in the lockers and that it’s not a good idea because he’ll be able to find me there. So I start running again. I feel bad because the whole situation is my fault. I’m extremely scared.

There’s a group of people, some clearly defined characters I can’t recall now. I’m not sure if they all want to catch me or help. They are discussing and planning something, I observe them.
And start running again. Through corridors and rooms. In one room there’s a milk glass door through which I see a lot of people running on the corridor behind. Someone is in the room with me and I warn that person that there’s a glass door and that we could be seen through it.

Everything gets quiet, everybody ran away. The room I’m now in looks like inside of a factory building. There’s only the group of people who I think wants to help me left. I dare to leave my hideout. I now think that it’s my ex who wanted to catch me. But he disappeared. We don’t know to where and how and why.
I’m looking up to some kind of wooden balcony and see a face.
“There he is” I say and point at him.
Someone asks the shooter “Why didn’t you say (your name is) ‘Michel’?”
“I didn’t think of that” the person answers.
It’s a thin guy wearing a costume that makes him look fatter and like a girl, he has a blond ponytail but a deep voice.

I now realize that the whole group is against me.

Another guy has the lathy black gun and almost shoots me but the gun goes to pieces. (Like in a bad movie, I think.)
I start running again. I’m outside now. There’s a low broad stone tunnel. I can see some rails, hoardings and high grass.
I try to crawl my way to escape.
I’m positive that I’ll be able to escape but I can hardly move forward.
I don’t know how to crawl I think as I wake up because my heart is hammering too hard to stay asleep any longer. ☆

sky cracking

Something is happening in the sky. The clouds are glowing, flickering, and unfolding. Something’s happening, something’s coming. It’s night. I’m outside behind a house. There’s a tree blocking my view. I yell for the girl in the van to come and see — she was reading. I know this girl well, and I’m very fond of her — I want her to see this event and witness its magic with me. There is another girl in the house taking a shower, it’s her friend of the same name. We don’t want her to feel uncomfortable so we try to steer clear of the window; but we have no choice, we must stand with our backs towards it if we want to see what happens when the sky opens up.
– – –
I am in a desolate, post-apocalyptic city. There are Asian and African people everywhere. They are singing in the streets and playing instruments. I don’t know what they want, and I don’t know how I got here. Everything is powered with steam, and this causes the streets to be cast in a hazy white mist. ♨

on the ropes

I am on a large sailboat floating on a turbulent sea that is covered with green algae. A woman is with me on the boat, but I don’t know who she is. The boat is anchored, but I can tell that it only serves to keep it from moving too much, and the anchor is dragging on the bottom of the ocean floor as we are pushed around. We are surrounded by massive rocks that look like miniature mountains, and the sky is a uniform orange. I found myself on this boat out-of-nowhere — I have no recollection of which shore it cast off. I climb a couple ropes that support the sail’s mast, and find myself dangling very high off the boats deck. I’m struck with a fear, and I don’t know how to get down without hurting myself. I do though. I find myself climbing these ropes from time to time for no apparent reason, and I’m always confused as to how I will get down. There is a cubby filled with change, and I keep checking to see if it’s still there, running my fingers over it; and I wonder if I will be able to keep it when we get to where we are going. If we are going anywhere. . . . ♨

dead end

I broke into a house with a friend of mine — the friend was a woman for sure, some sort of hybrid of my Mother and one of my best friends. She was pissed off at the homeowner, and I’m not sure exactly why. But she was full of a righteous anger. The homeowner was also a woman — I didn’t see her, but in my dream I knew who she was (though now I don’t recall). It was night, and she was asleep. We crawled in through a back window, we were in the basement, my friend started vandalizing the house. She started smashing the framed family photos on the wall, and when she realized the sound wasn’t drawing any serious attention she went crazy. I left the house and waited outside. I didn’t like what was happening. I didn’t know what I got myself into. I waited under a tree at the side of the house, and looked out at the cal-de-sac in a daze — partially keeping an eye out for signs of police. The cal-de-sac was the same as the one my family’s home is in and where I grew up. Occasional I would go back and check to see what was happening and try to get my friend to abandon her malicious project, but to no avail. I waited under that tree until daybreak. Then I demanded that we go, and I said I would steal the small mobile-home from the driveway and wait in the dead-end street around the corner from the cal-de-sac (a place I spent much of my childhood). I did so, and as I was there some strangers came that wanted to buy the mobile-home. I thought that it maybe a good idea to get rid of it, but didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. Finally my friend showed up, she more clearly resembled my Mother at this point, and she said she was done and that we could leave. I remember feeling bad for the woman in the house, and feeling ashamed that I played a role in the havoc. While driving away, trailing the stolen mobile-home, I saw that the house was my family’s home. ♨

never to awaken

I recently moved into a new house with new roommates. Every night I would go to sleep, have dreams, and awaken in the morning inside my room (but still in the larger dream). Hideous monsters would come and chase me. One monster had these sharp white teeth that I would knock out, but they would come back even sharper and longer each time. One time I realized that I was dreaming so I asked it to eat me and chew me up. It obliged. But when it swollowed me I woke back up in my new bed. I found myself questioning the nature of reality often, when this happened I would go to a mirror to figure out if I was dreaming or not. I would sit in front of it and stare at myself. Sometimes it would bubble or do something that tipped me off to the fact that I was still dreaming and sometimes it wouldn’t and I would go ahead and begin my day–until something went obviously wrong. For some reason, no matter how hard I tried I never could get out of my house. During one day my new roommates rushed into my room and started saying that I had to do all these things that made me feel like I was being taken advantage of. I stood up for myself and refused. I was congradulated by someone for doing so later.
I don’t know how many times I dreamt and “woke up” in this dream, but it was many. Each time felt more real than the last. At some point it occurred to me that an acute schizophrenia was settling into my mind, and that this must be the bewildering process people go through during its onset. ♨
Note: Dreamt on March 31, 2010 — 6 months prior to the creation of this journal; and one day prior to moving into my new home in Hanoi, Vietnam.