I must be dreaming

July 29, 2009

I was panicking. We were living in a house with other vampires (think “Breaking Dawn” by Stephenie Meyer) who have all caught a disease. I don’t know what the disease is called, but it’s making them really hungry. Hungry for human blood. And I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to die because I don’t want it to be a gore fest. Whenever I read about vampires and events similar to this, I am not frightened. Of course it’s a book, but now after dreaming this, vampires are definitely scary.

My mom came home and walked into the bathroom. I opened the door to see her rubbing a washrag over her eyes. My mom put down the washrag; one of her eyes was an intense shade of red. She informed me about the disease, which turns out, is the reason why all the other vampires left the house. “Your scent was calling me back,” my mother said. I froze up and left the room.

There was a woman in the kitchen working on wooden crates. “These are for when it comes,” she said. ‘It’ meaning the slaughter. “Who is that for?” I asked, pointing down to a small crate split in half. The woman replied, “Your sisters.” I was scared and panicking again. I called my youngest sister into the kitchen. She tried to fit into one side of the wooden box and it wasn’t working. It was too small. I looked up at the woman and said, “She doesn’t fit.”

I woke up from this dream thinking, Thank God vampires aren’t real.

Song Of The Day – “Chocolate” by Snow Patrol http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV6-pVn3Yo0


Just a dream, right?

February 12, 2009

02/12/09

Last night I had a dream. You see, I don’t really like dreams. Mine usually seem to be connected to inner fear or just something stupid that scares me while I’m asleep, though when I think about it later it seems idiotic. It wasn’t terribly frightening, though it was strange. It had something to do with a couple topics I’ve had on my mind a lot recently. Cutting and To Write Love On Her Arms. (In fact I’m wearing my one of my TWLOHA tees right now.)

In this dream I was in some hospital/psychiatric ward. The setup was similar to parts of my house, yet like a hospital at the same time. It was vacant. I wandered the halls with a few of my family members (I only remember my mother and Eleanor), yet I kept ending up in the same place.  As if I was going in circles. So while wandering these empty halls alone, they seemed dirty or abandoned. Finally I came across a bed, in which was my former house guest, Abby. I was scared I didn’t know what to say or do, I didn’t want to go pleading sorry. I ran back in circles, trying to think things over. Finally, I entered a bathroom. In that bathroom I found a razor blade. No, not a three bladed razor you would use to shave your legs. I razor blade. I began to cut little slits in my hand, the one I remember most was on my thumb. I hesitated a moment and went on. They were not very deep, but enough to sting. Blood didn’t ooze, but I saw blood. — My hands are shaking while I type this post.– I was tempted to go for my wrist, but I didn’t slice through the skin, only because I had a fear of “bleeding it out”. All through school the thought of cutting racked through my brain, and I was scared.