"a dream" Sunday, March 26, 2006 2:11 PM
i had a dream last night, somber, calm, violence which was then innermost. everywhere and consistently painful.
in this dream, i picked her up like a battering ram and punished her over and over and over again, 'till her face and body were more or less evenly mangled and swelled. i tore up much of the walls of what i knew to be my mother's apartment. though, it didn't resemble her apartment in real life.
some lapse later, i was walking on what was supposed to be the UW-L campus, but looks nothing like it in real life. i easily, but cautiously traversed the steep slope of what i think was out side my apartment, my painful sanctuary. this world that seemed to carry the weight of me, felt and looked as grayscale, even blackscale.
the police came to the apartment. they were interested in another crime, but i don't remember what it was. they did wonder about the walls though. i worried about whether they'd notice that the punches in the walls were the same size of the woman, the being who i beat to such a pathetic state! was there no blood in the punches? maybe it was the fault of my dream.
i told to their inquiries, "this place was a shit hole before we got here." my mother and what resembled a sort of specter of my brother, peered in about mid-sentence. like a choir of prairie dogs poking their heads out and in from the door frame, absent in their eyes and face, like they were without frontal lobes. they just watched. the cops believed me. i had feared the girl's (the fruiting point of me's)
boy friend had pressed charges, locking me into a battle for my life to escape the seemingly inescapable power.
i was told by characters around me that i must go talk to her boy friend. i was terrified that i might be arrested. after a journey, like many journeys in dreams, me, among myself and surrounded (not very much, though) by others, got out of the car. but, as i sat, i saw a person i recognized in the window. a nice, but not perfect person with straight, shoulder length, black hair. yellow pain, like dry cheese shown behind her. (it was not the women.) it is here that i have trouble remembering what exactly went on. i met her boy friend. he had not pressed charges. he opened to me with love, compassion, presence. he understood that i felt such guilt for what i couldn't stop from doing. i apologized i think, but i can't remember if it was with words or with a different connections. he heard as i saw the people stare at her marks of my punishment as she waited tables.
i'd thought a few times about leaving when i was coming up on the barbed like bushes after the subsequent up slope.
i woke up, and to my surprise, a someone slept next to me.
in this dream, i picked her up like a battering ram and punished her over and over and over again, 'till her face and body were more or less evenly mangled and swelled. i tore up much of the walls of what i knew to be my mother's apartment. though, it didn't resemble her apartment in real life.
some lapse later, i was walking on what was supposed to be the UW-L campus, but looks nothing like it in real life. i easily, but cautiously traversed the steep slope of what i think was out side my apartment, my painful sanctuary. this world that seemed to carry the weight of me, felt and looked as grayscale, even blackscale.
the police came to the apartment. they were interested in another crime, but i don't remember what it was. they did wonder about the walls though. i worried about whether they'd notice that the punches in the walls were the same size of the woman, the being who i beat to such a pathetic state! was there no blood in the punches? maybe it was the fault of my dream.
i told to their inquiries, "this place was a shit hole before we got here." my mother and what resembled a sort of specter of my brother, peered in about mid-sentence. like a choir of prairie dogs poking their heads out and in from the door frame, absent in their eyes and face, like they were without frontal lobes. they just watched. the cops believed me. i had feared the girl's (the fruiting point of me's)
boy friend had pressed charges, locking me into a battle for my life to escape the seemingly inescapable power.
i was told by characters around me that i must go talk to her boy friend. i was terrified that i might be arrested. after a journey, like many journeys in dreams, me, among myself and surrounded (not very much, though) by others, got out of the car. but, as i sat, i saw a person i recognized in the window. a nice, but not perfect person with straight, shoulder length, black hair. yellow pain, like dry cheese shown behind her. (it was not the women.) it is here that i have trouble remembering what exactly went on. i met her boy friend. he had not pressed charges. he opened to me with love, compassion, presence. he understood that i felt such guilt for what i couldn't stop from doing. i apologized i think, but i can't remember if it was with words or with a different connections. he heard as i saw the people stare at her marks of my punishment as she waited tables.
i'd thought a few times about leaving when i was coming up on the barbed like bushes after the subsequent up slope.
i woke up, and to my surprise, a someone slept next to me.
posted by dude at 6:36 PM
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