Bad Dreams :(
Filed under Personal
To quote my friend Steph, who I told this dream to, “Yay PTSD”.
There’s a construction crew, laying down cement to make, I don’t know, not like a tunnel but a hollow trail in the ground. Like a pipe, but not. I’m watching them from the side, but not really paying attention.
Until one of them starts shouting. There’s fingers sticking out of the earth.
The earth that they were about to cement over immediately vanishes, and I see one, two, a dozen, two dozen, hundreds of bodies piled one on top of each other, like bricks in a wall.
I feel sick.
I feel sicker when I notice one body’s eyes are fluttering.
I start screaming for everyone to help, to get down there and help me lift the bodies off this one guy, pull the slabs above them off so we can drag him out.
But he’s not they only one still alive. More eyes begin fluttering, mouths gasp for air, fingers reach for nothing. They’re all still alive.
Except the ones I’ve just watched be cemented up. I can’t see them, I’ve never seen them, but I know they’re dead. And I know they died while I was standing over them.
The scene cuts to me running down circular stairs. On each floor there is one door and one door only, but none lead to the exit. Only two doors matter: the one at the top, where I came in, and the one at the bottom, where the serial killer does his best work.
But he’s not there right now; I watched him leave. No one believes my story about it - about the killer who never kills his mass of victims, and instead lets other people (such as the construction crew) finish the job - so I have to do it myself.
In his lair I find the evidence I need to prove his guilt; he finds me.
I struggle, but he manages to subdue me. I finally figure out how he managed to keep all those people from struggling - I’m paralysed.
He tosses me into a pit and tells me I’m special. I’m the first one he’s ever killed directly…
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On the bright side that’d make one fantastic story. Hope you get a better night’s sleep tonight
Holy hell. Your dreams are scary. You ought to invest in a dream catcher.
That was nasty. You poor, poor thing. I just have dreams about me trying to throw myself at random strangers at parties, only to realise they aren’t Tim and I can’t find him anywhere and I really need to find him…I’m so pathetic.
You really, really need a hug: *glomp*