"'Truth is strange," you know, "stranger than fiction' - besides being more to the point" - Edgar Allan Poe

October 07, 2007


Twice this year I've had the same dream. Ok, the story/plotline were different for both, but the idea was the same. See if you can help me out with this.

It starts off in a dark room, and a bulb slowly gains light to throw detail onto the walls, almost forming reality in real time, fluid walls and lamps, and chairs and a carpet and things that couldn't have been there before when the darkness had it enveloped. And the light shows a detail that pretty much negates everything else in the room, and draws your eyes to it. A dead body. With a cartoony red monotone blood stain that's slowly spreading, very ver yslowly across a carpet that is going to be hell to clean. And in walks a sterotypical 4 star hotel maid, light blue blouse, white apron, black shoes (flats) ...and she screams as soon as she sees the body.

This scene repeats at the beginning of both dreams. Detail for detail, second for second.
As does this next segment. My wrists are pulled back, I can hear a deafening click of handcuffs as I'm pushed into a van of some sort, and I can feel the blue and red lights all over my peripheral vision.

Anyway, so I'm booked for murder of X. And the dreams kinda diverge here, because they're 2 separate murder mysteries. They're not terribly complex, they're kinda run of the mill, and the whole dream pieces clues and hints together, and in a final climatic moment, it hits me who the real murderer is, I declare it aloud, I save my skin, etc.

And then I wake up with sweat pouring off my face like it's noon in the amazon. I'm ridiculously scared. Because it makes no sense, no sense at all.

All dreams are manufactured in the mind, yes? So in other words, all the details for this dream are being put together in my head, whether or not they're in response to memories I've made during the day, or repressed ideas, or whatever. So that would mean that I'm quite in knowledge of what's being made, yes?

SO how come I didn't know who the murderer was until the last scene?! Don't expect me to believe that by fluke I constructed a scenario with only one possible answer/solution and it all just "fell into place".

Madness, I tell you. Twice!


Anonymous said...

get off dope..that should help :P...big sis

Citrus said...


byker7 said...

I think what it boils down to, is this:

as a twenty-something travelling technocrat, you will have fantasy sex with a hotel maid, who's even reasonably palatable, only over her dead body.

Anonymous said...

happens to me too... Sometimes I don't wanna get up even when my alarm is going berserk, just to see how the whole thing ends... It's like my mind's fucking with itself!!!