dreams

Dreams 2
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

AT first, in this dream, I am the famous man’s wife. I am standing in a room at his comedy premier, in this huge building, and I’m surrounded by people, one specifically I know is Robert Deniro, but I’m faded, they don’t see me, I’m washed out, invisible in the midst of all this money and beauty, and they are talking about my husband, wondering who his wife is, and I become more bitter and sad as the conversation continues around me, until finally I explode upon all of them, admitting that yes, I am his wife, I’m here, and I can hear them, I know what they are saying and it’s unkind, unkind to talk about someone when they are there, when they are aware of what you are saying...i turn to look out the window, tears in my eyes and see my children, playing, and motion them to me now, they are the only thing in life that brings me joy.

Then the dream shifts a bit forward and it’s after the premier. Im gorgeous now, absolutely stunning, who am I? I’m wearing bracers (wrist bracelets, long like gloves, but only reach from your wrist halfway up your arm), beautiful stone and gem objects, worthy of worship. The comedian stands in front of me, without his shirt and my dream self recognizes him as my benefactor, a friend, that I depend on dangerously for money. The air is a little tense, for I know he’s in love with me and I fear the moment when he will make it known, because I shall be forced to either sleep with him and ruin his marriage, or walk away...without my benefactor. I know that either way it will come to an end soon because I can see he can’t hold his feelings in much longer. I uneasily watch him. I remind him of how much I value his friendship. His eyes are on my skin, on my bracers, he can’t take his eyes off of them. They are a work of art, he announces, worthy of worship. He removes his pants and is standing in front of me, and I close my eyes because I don’t want it to come to this....He asks me to undress, leaving only the bracers on. The world stops, and I stand still in it, not breathing, and I know I can’t do this thing.

Just then his wife comes in and sees him in this state. She is who I was earlier, the plain, invisible woman who’s only joy now is in her children. She trembles in anger and asks him what’s going on, without looking in my direction. She wants to make me invisible, but it’s not possible, I am too stunning. I know I hurt her just by existing. He tells her he’s in love with me, he can’t hide it any longer. I can’t take anymore of this, I scream, I tell him no, he’s crazy, spitting madness, I run from the room in a panic and bolt down the stairs, I’m on another landing now and I look for a door, it’s white and it has the number 4 written on it. (There was also a number 7 door, perpendicular to this one, I choose the number 4, later in my dream I choose 7 and it’s a wasteland, empty inside, and I know that nothing is good on this floor)

I enter the room number 4 to try to escape from him, and I know that I’ve been here before, as in a lot of my dreams I’ve lived through them in some reality and I know the possible outcome to be had.

Let me take a moment to describe the room. Open entering the room, one always finds oneself in the exact same place in the room, which is on the green carpeted floor about 6 feet from the white door, which is always open a little to show you a view of outside,which is no longer a building corridor but a green pasture with a river, waterfall, beautiful nature surroundings. Inside the room, which is pink, that doll room shade pink, is a girl, about 14-16 years old, and she’s dressed in a prairy dress, a baby doll dress, pink and light blue and yellow are the colors of her dress. Her hair is up in ribbons, and overall you gain the feeling that you are in a dollhouse of sorts, that hasn’t ever changed and time doesn’t effect.

She’s delighted im here, and of course, she should be, for she holds an evil power over those who enter. In her room, which is small, is a white closet. In that closet, she can pull out whatever you want, whatever will encourage you to stay, but somewhere on a shelf in that closet, is an object never far from her hand. It’s a painting. A painting of...well...noone who has ever seen it has made it back out to tell of it. But those who have made it out said it is a painting she holds up for you to view. And if you view it, if your eyes rest upon it, you are her prisoner, her toy, her visitor, throughout eternity. You can never leave.

I’ll take a minute, just a second to describe her personality, for it won’t take longer than that. She’s bubbly, eager, wants you to be her friend, is delighted you are here. She is naive, and a little stupid, but something lies under her desperate eagerness...the knowledge that she will try to make you stay forever, and you can see it in a glimpse in her eye, a sharp look, that changes her childish features from innocent to horrific.

She stands before me now, and this is the second time I’ve been in this room. (The first time didn’t occur in this dream, yet I have a memory of it) The first time I bolted out the partially opened door as soon as my body hit the floor. But there is a problem this time. I’ve just been to the comedian’s opening show and I’m a little drunk. I’m more than a little drunk, I can barely see straight. And there on the floor in front of me is the previous victom, all shriveled, turned purple, a barely living corpe, unable to talk, only to open it’s mouth in a silent plea, it’s shriveled hands grasping at nothing. I know now that she must be really desperate, this girl, for her play thing is almost dead. I know she will do everything to make me stay.

She reaches into the white closet, and I know I don’t have long. She is programmed for formalities though, for trickery, naive trickery, and she truly wants to make me comfortable, though I know what end is in mind, even if she in all her insanity doesnt grasp what she does. She sees I am drunk, and offers me a drink. A rum, she wants to know if i want rum on ice. I tell her yes, and she reaches into the closet, then in a moment her desperate need for me to stay fills her and she instead changes her mind and says she has to show me something now. I know the painting is coming and I clear my mind long enough to insist upon a drink, I tell her no, I want to see her picture but I must must have a drink first. She tries weakly to argue but she really believes she must trick me to stay, so again, she reaches into the closet, this time she says to get me the drink,and as her back is turned to me I find my way onto my feet, swaying, I look towards the partially open door, I see the green pasture in front of me, and I try to take a step...

And she is in front of me, and she is evil, and she is holding the painting. I cover my eyes with my hands but I have viewed a piece of it. Through blurred perception I saw clearly the bottom half of the painting...and I know what it is, it’s red flowers, in an organized pattern, tiny bright red flowers dance before my eyes and i rush past her, I refuse, I exit through the door into the sunlight and she screams and chases me. She becomes larger than life and I am tiny, a worm in the dirt, and i can’t move fast enough now but I am outside, and her power is useless, I instead climb on her and cover her with my slime, to punish her for what she has put me though, in hatred. She holds me, a tiny worm, and cries....and I know I’ll be okay now, reality will return, though I know I’ll never be the same since I’ve glimpsed, if only for a second, that painting.