Archive for the ‘dreams / fantasy’ Category

Dream Sequence #6

Posted: August 8, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

One summers evening, I found myself standing on a beach. People were playing ball and sun-bathing and the sea was full of surfing and splashing.  The sound of laughter and faint music murmured in the distance, and the smell and taste of warm salty sea air surrounded me and filled my lungs.

I saw a man walk towards me; he was tall, skin golden against the sun.  He was getting closer to me; I was transfixed by him.  I couldn’t speak or move and just as I was gathering my thoughts, he was next to me.  He gently picked me up and placed me down on the warm sand.  He sat down next to me without a word and started playing with the sand.  His salty blonde hair was falling forward, covering his shy eyes slightly. I thought it funny to see such a man sit like such a boy, and, without being able to stifle myself, I let out a soft giggle.  He stopped playing with the sand and looked at me. We looked at each other as the tide rippled and moved away, the people faded and were nowhere in sight, the sun hung a little lower and the gentle humming of the music had stopped.

I didn’t want to break the silence; it felt so precious; but I was desperate to know where I was.  He knew what I was thinking and replied ‘A different place, somewhere unknown to the rest of the world.’

‘Will I be here long? I asked.

‘However long it takes’ he answered, as he took a deep breath and pulled me down so we were lying on our backs.  ‘Look at the vast dome hanging over us’ he said as he gestured to the heavens.

We both looked up at the sky and I marvelled at the little punches of light coming through, thinking how it reminded me of a big black balloon which had been pin pricked.

‘There is such radiance shining through, enabling the stars to dance and glisten above us.’ The man said.  ‘Do you realise that there is so much out there, past the shadows and darkness?’  He looked into me.  ‘There is so much beauty and grace beyond what you can see or even begin to understand. ‘

And upon his last words, his arms stretched open as he pulled me up from the sand and held me close.  He stretched me out and ran his hand over the whole of me.  He folded me up tightly, creasing me and running his fingers firmly over the folds. 

He then picked my delicate frame up from the sand, held me between his thumb and index finger, stretched his arm back past his head and threw me flying home to bed.

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Dream Sequence #5

Posted: August 6, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

I try to write all these dreams down.  Some dreams I know will never leave me.  There are others I haven’t written yet but remember them as clear as if I had just come from them.  Others will wander around with me throughout the day and then fade before I get a chance to write them down.  Some I remember just patches or vague images of…and some I just forget on waking!

Sometimes I can force myself back into dreams, in order to finish what was happening; to get to the better end – the end where I don’t fall or don’t suffocate. I can go back to my dream to find a faster way of getting away or a more daring way save the person I love.  I make myself go back to spend longer in the woods, where I walk with the wind, or to stay a little longer in that magical dance and perfect kiss.

Dream Sequence #4

Posted: August 5, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

…Their voices constant and clear; each night they would say the same things to me, without fail.  “You will die old, deprived, miserable and alone, with no one to hold you because you will never be worthy of someone’s love.  Their love will bounce off you.  I am corrupting your already corrupt dreams, nightmares showing you what you really sense – you are foreseeing what is to come.  Under no circumstances listen to those that utter ‘I love you’, declare ‘You have so much beauty’, for these are all polluted smears, it is all slander.”  And I would awake and wonder ‘is this the truth of me?’

When I read these words to my mum, she got angry and tearful, and told me not to listen and to burn them.  So I went to the seafront late one night and put them to the flames; watching the paper flicker away, wondering if that would really work; banish the lies, burn them to ash.  But I kept a copy.  You do what you do regardless of what people advise.  You hold on to the lies and insecurities for security at times, the fear of change too much to bear.

Drean Sequence #3

Posted: August 4, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

Some nights, when I awoke from my dreams, I would go to my mum and dad’s room and lie still in their bed, just to be near something familiar.  And at other times, mum would spray her perfume onto a tissue at my bedtime and I would clutch it tightly and smell her smell to comfort me.

This was when I was young; in recent years, the fear of going to sleep has been overwhelming; the fear of the nightmares coming back.  As always, I despised the way they just happened.  I could do nothing to control what my head focused on and what I visualised when I closed my eyes.  It came to the point where I wouldn’t want to shut my eyes.   Instead, I tried to force myself into staying awake and finding other things to do to stop me from venturing into the nightmares which I knew would find me.  The dreams would sleepwalk through my days with me, affecting my body physically and mentally, and I became ill and exhausted.

I would try to think on happy thoughts.  I would think of old school days, lawnmower and fresh grass days.  I would think of sitting watching Narnia with tea on laps in our warm house of red brick.

I would also try to recall the times my friends and I laid down with sleeping bags and sweets, sitting in front of the tiny TV to watch old movies, marvelling at the black and white kisses; hopes for our futures.

And I would think of log cabins with roaring fires, and the beauty I have seen, from the smallest to the greatest measure.  The times I had felt wanted and special, times I had felt real and totally me.

But these thoughts would lie restless; they would lie in my subconscious, for when I slept, a chorus of voices would override my dreams…

Dream Sequence #2

Posted: August 3, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

The story I am posting here comes from what I dream and how these dreams confuse, contradict, simplify, excite, bring peace, pain and affect my outlook on life.   My dreams have embellished what I feel, they have handed out false prophecy and at other times they have given me hope, desire, truth and worth.

I believe dreams can ignite something or tear apart; embarrass or momentarily stop you from functioning.   

Our family caravan summer holidays in Charmouth were full of days playing on the beach, making palaces out of wet sand and mermaids out of seaweed and pretty shells.  And as the sun settled down on our days, we would drive off on treasure hunts to explore the coves and the old inns.  The fairground rides by the sea with the whiplash, candy floss and laughter would soon be lost, as my nights became absorbed with dreams. 

I would have the same dream, year in year out. I dreamt I was in an old library, full of smoky old smells and books upon aisles upon aisles.  I would go to one shelf and grab out at a book.  The front cover would read ‘Witches’, and I would go around the corner and get bombarded by a cluster of old cackling hags, coated in warts and exhaling bad breaths and potions.  The dream continued, with different creatures and happenings around each turning, depending on which book I picked up.  It would finish with me falling from the top bunk, thud thudding to the floor, where I would awake and cry.

Dream Sequence # 1

Posted: August 2, 2010 in dreams / fantasy

Last night I was running away from a man.  I realised I could not run any further, my breath not letting go of itself. The man cornered me at the back of a car park.    I fearfully waited, knowing I was going to die; that this was my end.

I watched the man gather himself as he stood tall and firm against snatches of the cruel light.  My eyes focused on his large strong hands for what felt like hours.  His hands then went out of sight for a split second and re-emerged with a gun as he moved towards me.

I fell to the ground and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, mumbling how I didn’t want to die. I looked up at the man stooped directly over me as he held the gun firmly and directly at my head, remembering the smell of steel.

Desolation swept into the core of me, hard.  It got into my guts forcing my weeping to turn into grieving cries, full of hurt and loss.  My cries evolved into gasping and wailing and screaming.  I was pleading with the man, on my knees, my hands held out to him like a prayer as he fired the gun up in the air telling me to shut up. 

I gazed into my hands, tear joining tear, bead joining bead of sweat, knowing I would never brush my hair again, never see him, her, thems, or us again, knowing I would not be able to hope for anything more or kiss again, or taste, sing, or smell rain again, or see the stars again, or touch or feel again…that everything would just stop. 

I started crying out to God, ‘Do something.  Where are you? I promise I will do right and make this world honest and good again.  I AM NOT DONE YET…I AM NOT FINISHED!’. 

And, as I felt like all hope was lost, that no saviour would come and save me, I sensed a shadow drop down in front of my pathetic whimpering body.  The man with the gun was telling the shadow to ‘Fuck off!’, whilst firing fearful, angry, lonely bullets up to the heavens.

I did not know what the shadow was but I remember looking at the ground again, at the hard concrete, the darkness moving all around me, and wondering if I would feel any pain, if anything at all….

If you were to dream this same dream, how differently would you feel? Would it challenge you? Upset you? Do nothing at all?

Although we cannot walk the same heights together or crumble to the ground the same way; although when I watch the same scene with you, you watch it differently, and although my touch is different to your touch and my sight is camouflaged in different ways to yours, I believe we have been made for the same purpose.