I had a nightmare the other night, and other last night. That’s two consecutive nightmares, and to tell you the truth, it’s pretty unusual for me. I do tend to have super weird dreams, but not in a row like that.
Let me tell you about them.
The first was of The Flood. This is the third dream I’ve ever had about it. The first took place at my house, the second can be foundhere. The most recent was at a school with many children and (for some reason) animals. All of the little ones and pets I cared about. We were teaching, and then– we saw this massive wave rise up and so we rushed into the main building, which stood in the middle of the hill that is my front lawn.
When the wave broke the windows shattered, the walls collapsed. I was left to search for the survivors among the corpses.
Last night I dreamed about death as well. It was hunting season. I think for turkeys. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure bow hunting for turkeys is allowed, but this was, like, intense hunting. For pros or daredevils, and it was also a sort of male rite of passage ritual.
A bunch of youths went into the woods. Karen and I were in charge of monitoring them, of tracking them and their successes. They were marked in ranges on a blue map, as well as the beasts they’d be stalking. Each beast had a name, and was expected to combat the youth.
This is where I get confused, because in my mind’s eye I definitely see a dead turkey, but on the map they were labeled as monsters.
Moving on. Andrew’s path was marked with the Mauler’s. I feel like it should be Mahler.
Moving on again, my bad. So Andrew was supposed to face Mauler/Mahler. But Nickolas, the Nickolas that I miss and haven’t seen or talked to since he’s “grown up,” crossed into the wrong territory.
He was out way too long, and so Karen and I set out to look for him.
I my dream-thoughts I told myself it wouldn’t turn out this way. Everything would be fine. He would be okay. When we stumbled upon the embankment where Mauler/Mahler the Monster/Turkey lay sprawled beneath the slickly pounding rush of water, I told myself, think analytically, critically. While my guts churned in trepidation and nausea rose in my throat, I commanded myself to look at the lay of the land, to figure it out clinically. It wasn’t for Nick, it was my job.
So I pointed out the facts. The rock adjacent to Mauler/Mahler would be perfect if one was going to stand and kill the beast. But the angle of the water would have made it difficult to maintain balance. If fallen, an individual would flounder and make his way out at best, but against an angry beast… he might trip again, and hit his head– there. The boulder smeared with blood. Okay. From there, he would try to pull himself out of the stream if he was functional. If not, the current would carry him to the other side, to–
The sprawled body of a good friend faced downward in a shallow pool. Shallow enough for me to turn his head as I prayed for it to be a joke or a dream or just plain fake. Shallow enough for him to have maybe lived if he had just ended up with his face to the side.
I was the one to tell Karen. I was the one to pull his dead weight against me and wish it wasn’t cold and lifeless and stiff and dead.
I hate dreaming about corpses. I guess that’s why I needed to blog and get it out of my system before I sleep tonight. It’s just been a while so I’m not as used to it as I could be. I’m sure there are many psychological explanations behind these dreams but I won’t bother wording them all now. I’m tired and my mission of the evening is over. So, dead bodies. Take your rigored decomposing selves and float the hell away from me.