I haven’t had this dream recently, but since I’ve moved it’s partially haunted my subconscious. After a discussion one night in a car with my sister and some doubtful, plainly pessimistic thoughts it evolved into a dream. It was frightening I have to tell you, and it’s been forever so I’ve most likely, consciously or not, added details.
But it starts off right away, I’m running down a street. One of those many back alleys you see in those movies about big cities. A maze that if you take the wrong turn you may end up at a dead end. Everything was tinted a strange blue, almost like the glow from a computer screen, except it was darker and hazier. Rain was pouring down in buckets and everything centered down to that blue and the heavy drops pounding down on my head. I ran, and ran, and ran, and ran. As I ran and ran I cried, and cried, and cried.
Behind me the black shadow of a man, and I maybe something dangerous, filtered into the edges of my vision. He had something ... a knife, a kitchen knife. I was me but I wasn’t, a different changing perspective that only touched the edges of my pursuers dark form. I turned corners and ran like mad, till I turned one and found a main street. For some strange reason I noticed a dumpster that filled in an indent in the wall. For a moment I almost wanted to hide there but I knew the street would be better. So I ran to the street, where the rain wasn’t so heavy and blue light clearer.
I turned the corner and ran into something. I shrieked, frightened, only thinking “It’s him! It’s him!” Then, there, in my hand was his kitchen knife. I didn’t know where it came from and I was blind with the rain and tears. Lifting it up I sliced down crying and struggling. Except something was wrong, the rain was warm, and so was the person in front of me. I thought, hazily, wasn’t the shadow man supposed to be cold or like fire? Not warm, terribly familiar comfort. Finally I could see, the lane lightening into a drizzle.
PREVIOUS PAGE
