Sometimes I scare myself!
On Wednesday morning I woke up feeling uncomfortable, out of place and distinctly perturbed. It took a few seconds for me to recall exactly why I should feel like that.
I had one seriously messed up dream.
I’m talking, psychologically something weird going on level messed up. It actually scared me that it came from my own head, because honestly, I didn’t think I was capable of that level of dark unpleasantness. Of course twisted in there was my own brand of sarcasm, humour and “oh hell no” that reminded me the only place it could possibly have come from was my head. Just listen to this…
I had gone to stay with my boyfriends family. (Yes I know, he was imaginary too, just go with me on this okay?) They lived in this massive house with loads of stairs and windows into rooms and such. Bit weird, but pretty impressive. I think I was staying there for something like a month, for some reason. Bit much for the first time I’d met them if you ask me, but whatever, dreams do their own thing. So yeah, there I am in this massive house with the boyfriends family (I can’t call him by name because he didn’t have one. I didn’t see his face either. He just had a green and white striped t-shirt, that’s all I know) and one day, after about a week and a half, it’s getting late and the family ask him and his brother to go to the shop and buy some beer. So off they pop. I hear them leave from upstairs and think “I’ll go down and be friendly”. I’m halfway down the stairs and I overhear something really disturbing. His parents are discussing the best way to cook and eat…ME! For dinner. That night. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. If that’s not messed up…anyway, it gets better my friends. My initial reaction is “OH MY GOD THEY’RE GONNA EAT ME” and I run. I leg it as quietly as I can back up the stairs and climb out of this window onto a grassy bank and start to run away. And at this point my real life brain overrides the dream and goes “No, what are you doing, call them out on this one”. So dream me goes back and pretends like nothings happened. I’m watching TV in a darkened room and I hear someone come in. It’s the little sister/dog (yeah okay this bits a bit farfetched…) who comes over to me with wet hands and grabs mine and says “come to the dining room” and I’m all like “Oh shit, this is it, time to pull out the big guns.”
We enter the dining room. The table is laid neatly and there is a fire going in the grate (how very traditional English country, I know. My subconscious is creepy but classy.) I stand there on one side of the table and look at these people. My boyfriend and his brother aren’t back yet, so it’s just his parents, the creepy sister/dog thing and a family friend. Before they have a chance to start the whole “we’re going to kill you now” thing…I go crazy and literally rip the dining room table into pieces. This thing is a huge dark hardwood table in three sections. It’s solid. But somehow I’m superhuman, and I just tear it into pieces. I am that angry! I then lay into them. “How dare you…Is this really how you treat guests…Do you do this to all his girlfriends…Is it because I’m vegetarian…Do you honestly think…You people are INSANE…How did you think you were going to get away with it” And so on. I go full on pissed of Megan rant at them. And then suddenly, I stop and I turn to his mother. “Does he even know?”
She tells me that no, the boyfriend (lol, gets me every time) doesn’t know. My next question “so what were you going to tell him over dinner…how were you going to explain my sudden absence…EVEN THOUGH I WOULD STILL BE THERE” (Yeah, I totally burned that evil lady). And she informed me that they were going to lie and tell him that I’d left because I didn’t love him anymore, that I would never come back and I hadn’t wanted to stay to say goodbye. They were going to freaking eat me AND break his heart in the process. JEEEEEEZ. So I set the dad on fire. Of course when the boyfriend and his brother walked in with the beers there was a bit of explaining to do…
I was mad…okay? I think I’m kinda justified.
And the even more twisted part is that the dad was someone I know, but I can’t remember who it was. The mother, however, was MY mother. Yeah.
So that is what happened in my head on Tuesday night. WTF?!?!
And yes, I have always been able to recall my dreams in vivid detail. I’ve even left out some of the smaller details, because I didn’t want to bore you. I have a rather active imagination (evidently) so my dreams have always been quite real to me, even when they’re crazy. The feelings that come with them sometimes last for days and I can struggle to find the difference between a dream and something that really happened. The amount of times I’ve been absolutely livid with someone over something they said…only to realise later that it was in a dream and they didn’t really say it. Or, I think I made up a conversation in a dream until someone brings it back up another day and I’m like “Oooooh that was real…thank god!”
And sometimes I can control my dreams, like I did in that one where I went back to throw down some venomous angry justice on their arses! That was a moment of clarity in the dream where I was both in it and not in it at the same time. My consciousness kicked in for about a split second, long enough to alter the course of the dream by telling me I was not going to run away and allow these people to eat more of their children’s partners. Hell no!
I am genuinely concerned about my own head now. Who even thinks those things up for themselves?
Cannibalistic families, girls who are also dogs, imaginary boyfriends, houses with too many stairs, dining room tables that can be ripped to shreds by a girl, an evil plot that can be thwarted by words alone.
Oh right…well when you put it like that, it all makes perfect sense. Damn.
Maybe I will sleep again after all!