I asked my little brother if a nightmare was still a nightmare even if it had a good ending, but he said that a dream was a nightmare even if any part of the dream was bad... Well, guess that makes me probably the most tormented
inexperienced human being on earth-----and he, whom I have shared many of my "dreams" with, agrees. (I'm not even near being goth, and nor do I dwell on dark thoughts while awake, but he says my dreams make emo kids look sunny and chipper) :-\
I'm not the sort to keep my thoughts under lock and key, but, for some reason, I felt like I had to write this "dream" down, maybe
because it ended ok-ish?, but, it frightened me so, and, I really thought that maybe it would frighten my mom and grandmother even more... Most of my dreams would, therefore I only very rarely share them with them two, when I have a funny one, or just a really really weird one while leaving out all the demonic parts... And then I even try to forget them, myself.
Had this one not ended ok(ish), I probably would
not have wrtten it down, but in fact tried to use the morning light, as I first wake up, to leave it behind in the dream world and obliterate the memory before I ponder it too much and accidentally memorize it.
That said, we commence:
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"...Today... Went to bed, like, 3:30am Friday morning after Jujutsu & hanging out @ Dad's w/ Nick & Indi, helping Nick do his hwk & watching YouTube... Earlier, right after Japanese, (JPN201 PCC Eeast), while waiting for Mom to pack up the laptop, I checked out another old horror movie from the collage Library... "Dr. Faustis" with Elizabeth Taylor; The firs tI ever checked out had been "The Picture of Dorian Gray" with Angela Lansbury, a movie with a verysimilar theme but plainly far better... We hadn't watched "Dr. Faustis" yet, but aparently, just reading the summary on the back cover was enough to inspire nightmares... Even though, I already knew the story in general because I had seen the "Wishbone" version years ago.
My brother Chris and I had won something, something like one of those "spend one whole day with so-and-so celebrity" sweepsteaks, and in early twilite, boarded a black limo with a character much in the way of "Jimmy Neutron", an actual cartoon character in the real world. Basically, he was some famouse boy-genious who didn't have a name. He was not pleased with this, but seemsed to be going along with it if just for the sake of the sweepsteaks. However, to his pleasent surprise, Chris and I both also knew something about science, and we hit-it-off quite well. However...
Our friendship lasted beyond that one day, and the next part of the dream was a scene where he took us in his limo to a Christmas party at Bill Nye's house to meet & hang out with even more nerds... Bill Nye was in his pajama shorts! @_@ (yikes!) X3
The next part was years later... I viewed this from the 3rd-person, as if I were watching from the POV of a ghost: A man sold his soul to the devil, but, after a while, began to transform. Thick black hair began to grow all over his body so that he looked like an animal, his body deformed, his hands growing as big as dinner plates, and his eyes turned perfectly circular and began to glow----at first, dim red, but then, blazing yellow...They captured him and caged him in a freakshow at the circus, but after a while he broke free, by then, very much regreting his deal. But, they cought him again, then he got out again, one dark night under the circus's dim sodium lights, and in a dork corener, on the face of something large, flat, perpendicular to the ground, and vaguely shiny, ----in the same way, except not warped, as the back of a stainless steel spoon---- he catches sight of himself, beastlike and glowing in the eyes... It isn't long after that he attempts suicide, with a morbid sense of 'knowing' about his fate... Yet, he survives, and now comes to light the exact roll
I play----
As I was passing by along the sidewalk, I looked up the steep grassy hill to my left and saw two or three circus handlers tending to the man who was hanging, tied with rope about the ankles, by his feet from the roof inside his usual confinement of iron bars, and only semiconcious. I went over just as they were cutting him down... I did not know what to think, so I pitied the creature. But after a while he spoke to me... Since I had seen his history already from the third-person, I could tell he was now a very different man from the one who put him in this state... He wanted me to search my memory, he spoke nostalgically of his youth, of the time before his tragic misteak, and he asked me to recognise him for who he
used to be. I was already starting to get some idea, but then he showed me, beneath all the hair and swelling and discoloration of the skin, several small round scars on the shins of his legs, and then I knew, and I recognised him as the little boy-geniouse I had met disgruntled in a limo all those years ago. It felt like things would be alright after that, like maybe knowing that his childhood best friend could still recognise him gave him the inner peace he needed in order to find the strength to snatch his soul back from the bonds of surefire condemnation...
I don't remember if he lived or died----I think he lived----but the feeling of 'peace' for him was prominent enough that I don't think it matters.
The weather was... uhh... warmer than I like it. (October in the desert is like late summer everywhere else; the norm temp being probably 80+)
I wore... Teal shirt w/ bronze roadrunner.
I'll never forget... Elephants
I'd like to forget... Now y would I write such I a thing down? lol
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..."When I told this dream to my brother, however, my mom was in the room so I said it was about a warewolf. :-\
It actually sounds nicer writen out... There is a lot in the imagery, the colors and the lighting, and a thousand little nuances, conversations that are just facial expressions, the exact way the wind blows (strength, direction, tempature), characters that are just standing in the background, the texture of the earth.... Stuff like that. The stuff that, when together, makes the basic story seem ten times worse. :-\
That, and I just feel better if I spend more time on the good parts. For some reason I
cannot bring myself to write it balanced as it truly was. Maybe I'm just too good a person and it disturbs me, like someone trying to justify themselves. Q-_-