Mr Grey (mrgrey) wrote,
Mr Grey

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Last night I kept waking up from bad dreams feeling more than a little uneasy. I feel exhausted.

I put what I could remember of the dreams behind a cut because...well, who really ever likes hearing about someone else's dreams?

I dreamed about my mother dying. While I was still crying over her loss, the bellies of all women I knew began to swell. Invariably these women either went into a rage and ripped into their stomachs, aborting whatever was within, spilling a slush of pink-purple flesh and tiny almost-limbs along with copious amounts of blood, or they went near catatonic. Gestation was quick and those that didn't self-abort gave birth to something dark colored and gnarled that should have been aborted. Then the surviving women calmed down, not seeming to notice what they had just expelled. Their muscles began to swell and pulse until they looked like they might burst before stopping, leaving them looking like steroid junkies. There was no longer anything feminine about them.

After waking up from that and finally managing to fall asleep again, I dreamed I was in a bar. I was sitting at a table with some friends, enjoying exotic drinks. One of my ex's was sitting across from me and as I glanced around the table, I caught my ex staring at me angrily. I meet her stare and her expression changed, smiling at me seductively. Her expression changes again, her face all compassion and incredibly genuine looking, her smile sweet. I started to smile back at her as I feel an incredible pain and pressure against my testicles...the toe of her foot kicked into my crotch under the table. No one seemed to notice the look of anguish on my face or my coughing. She continued looking at me, still smiling the sweetest smile I've ever seen.

Suddenly everyone's attention turned to a single person in the bar. Everyone turned to stare at a politician (I knew he was a politician in that way that you simply know things in dreams) standing at a bar. The closes to him rushed towards him, lifting him up. More bar patrons rushed forward, hoisting him above their heads as they ran up the stairs to exit the bar (the bar was apparently an underground one). You could hear them shouting in the streets, not angrily but not joyously either...just making noise. I looked up out of one of the windows near the ceiling to catch a glimpse of him being carried down the street, body rigid, arms outstretched to either side...he looked like Jesus on an invisible cross, rushed down the street by the crowd of zealots.

One of my friends at the table got up and climbed on top of a table, reaching up to one of the windows and opening it. The crowd noticed him and pulled him out onto the streets. He looked back at us once, his face pure joy. The rest of us took the stairs to see what was going on, and saw the mob (which was now much larger than when it started in the bar...the streets were filled with people, hundreds or thousands of them) but the crowd wasn't as thick or frenzied at this part on the the wave of fanaticism had washed by and the people were starting to wake up. Most of the people left were sticking to the streets and since we all seemed a bit reluctant to wade into their midst, we stuck to the sidewalks, quickly walking towards the politician/messiah to find out just what's going on.

Eventually, I found my friend who left through the window. His body was limp on the floor, arms removed and nowhere to be found, replaced by bloody puddles, head tilted back and apparently cracked in the back... an almost-black, crimson stain surrounds his head, still wet, littered with veined pink chunks of something fleshy and soft looking. His chest was covered in blood as well, all of it flowing from a hole in his chest. His heart had burst with such force it had forced his ribs outward,leaving the new cavity looking like a crude mouth, jagged white blood-stained teeth reaching outward. I glanced at him only long enough to take the obscenity of it in and then, casually, stepped over him, careful not to slip in his gore.

The scene didn't seem to really bother anyone, or at least didn't stop us from following the crowd. Just as we near the center, just before we found out what was going on...I woke up.

Most of my dreams have been rather violent as of late. I don't really know what to make of it, but it's been the cause of some rough sleep.

I'm going to just assume it's all because I'm a latent, repressed homosexual.
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