Nifty nightmare
2006-09-03 22:14![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beowabbitSo, my subconscious is creative. Here’s the nightmare ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
plumtreeblossom woke me up out of last night:
I was in a very old apartment in a university; I think it had sometimes been used as a dormitory suite for students, and at other periods of history it was a residence that went along with some particular endowed chair. It was all very dark and Gothic and reminded me of the older buildings at Yale. (Actually, I think the dream was partly inspired by talking and thinking about my college years recently, and partly by reading Terry Pratchett’s description of Unseen University — I’m up to Sourcery in the Diskworld novels.) On one doorframe, generations of residents had carved their names over the centuries, one after the other from the mid-1700s. Somebody was there with me, a close friend or a family member, and we were listening to answering-machine messages. Somehow, it struck me that something violent and terrible had happened here, and that some of the long-dead residents had had some sort of bizarre secret. I (we) had been away for a long time, and there were a lot of messages on the machine, but they got progressively vaguer and more ambiguous and stranger, and the notion came to me that some of the messages were from dead people trying to tell their secret. I was in a little washroom (no toilet, just a sink and mirror) washing my hands, and the mirror was all steamed up.
As I reached up to wipe the fog off the mirror, I realized that I was acting out a horror-movie cliché, and I expected that I’d see some ghost or assassin behind me.
Instead, what I saw was somebody else’s head on my body: slightly darker skin, bushier eyebrows, a heavier brow and more angular jaw, a slightly flatter, broader face, stubble, and curly, almost black, shoulder-length hair. But this face in the mirror accurately reflected my shocked and puzzled expression, and my hand in the mirror went up to touch the stubbly cheek as my own hand went up and felt my smooth one.
I think I was crying out in my sleep, andplumtreeblossom says she woke me up out of the dream — I remember waking up, but not that she woke me up.
It would make a good scene in a movie, wouldn’t it?
plumtreeblossom woke me up out of last night:I was in a very old apartment in a university; I think it had sometimes been used as a dormitory suite for students, and at other periods of history it was a residence that went along with some particular endowed chair. It was all very dark and Gothic and reminded me of the older buildings at Yale. (Actually, I think the dream was partly inspired by talking and thinking about my college years recently, and partly by reading Terry Pratchett’s description of Unseen University — I’m up to Sourcery in the Diskworld novels.) On one doorframe, generations of residents had carved their names over the centuries, one after the other from the mid-1700s. Somebody was there with me, a close friend or a family member, and we were listening to answering-machine messages. Somehow, it struck me that something violent and terrible had happened here, and that some of the long-dead residents had had some sort of bizarre secret. I (we) had been away for a long time, and there were a lot of messages on the machine, but they got progressively vaguer and more ambiguous and stranger, and the notion came to me that some of the messages were from dead people trying to tell their secret. I was in a little washroom (no toilet, just a sink and mirror) washing my hands, and the mirror was all steamed up.
As I reached up to wipe the fog off the mirror, I realized that I was acting out a horror-movie cliché, and I expected that I’d see some ghost or assassin behind me.
Instead, what I saw was somebody else’s head on my body: slightly darker skin, bushier eyebrows, a heavier brow and more angular jaw, a slightly flatter, broader face, stubble, and curly, almost black, shoulder-length hair. But this face in the mirror accurately reflected my shocked and puzzled expression, and my hand in the mirror went up to touch the stubbly cheek as my own hand went up and felt my smooth one.
I think I was crying out in my sleep, and
plumtreeblossom says she woke me up out of the dream — I remember waking up, but not that she woke me up.It would make a good scene in a movie, wouldn’t it?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 03:02 (UTC)It would! Creeeepyyyy!
I had a very depressing dream the other night that I had somehow survived the end of the world, along with a few other random people, but had lost
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Date: 2006-09-04 19:07 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 15:42 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 19:07 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 17:21 (UTC)I dreamed about
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Date: 2006-09-04 19:24 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-04 22:28 (UTC)Well, I could be confabulating the part about mirrors; as I said, I wasn't paying close attention. But I seem to remember that one of the actors looked in the mirror and saw her dead friend looking back, or something like that. I guess we'll just have to go to the movies, something where that trailer is playing. :-)
I’ll bet it did! So in the dream, did you stop dreaming about him?
It was disruptive enough that it woke me up, which is probably why I remember it. In the dream, I was sort of hovering over him as he was sleeping (kinda floating up near the ceiling), so when he opened his eyes he looked right into my face, and it was disturbing to think I'd intruded on a friend's privacy in that way. Geeze. Sounds like my unconscious worries about ethics. You'd think it would be enough for me to think about that stuff while I'm awake. :-)