Finally, some sleep. I'm still groggy as fuck, but I think it might've been some ok sleep for the first time in the past week. I feel a little better. I actually am awake at 10 something (AM!!!) and not late afternoon, which in itself feels nice.

In the past I'm not really famous for recalling my dreams. I never remember much of them, and tend only to remember the most weird and bad things about them. Dali would love me. Anyways, I never remember what anyone says, I dream in absolute color, I tend to never see anyone I know or have even seen before in my dreams (as in my head creates people), and I make simple structures and buildings I know and have been in extremely complex and maze-like. Hey, I don't know, it's my head.

So today, I am fortunate enough not only to remember the last dream I had before waking, but I am even fortunate enough to remember it long enough to recall the major last bit of it for you. Now an advanced warning, and I know it doesn't sound bad yet, but this is the most horrifying imagery I can recall experiencing, dream or not. So be warned. It's not going to make you puke, but let me tell you, I'm still on edge because of it. Now note that I don't consider this a nightmare by any means though. Why...I don't really know, but it's just not.

Judging by clothing, hair, and the general surroundings, the setting is approximately American Revolutionary War time. I am in a large colliseum-type arena, with a large dirt floor. There is a tournament of strength going on, but not what you would think. We are all lined up on one wall of the arena, which just happens to be something like a stage.

Somewhere a regal-type woman is watching this contest. She has been shamed somehow by the people it appears because she has not been able to find a husband. I don't know her relationship to the tournament or the people there.

We are sitting on the edge, taking turns getting off to...kick. Yes, this tournament of strength is kickball. It seems the leader of the whole situation is the pitcher, who has placed the bases awkwardly. There is no first base, yet instead a runner kicks from way behind the plate, then runs to home (which doubles as first), then straight back through the pitcher's mount (which is there and covered with dirt) to second, on to third, and then back to home. I don't remember anyone making it home. In fact, I remember many people going up to kick, but I don't remember what happened to them after they went.

Suddenly everyone stands up. My ears catch up and realize the pitcher or some powerful voice (somehow broadcast over something like speakers or megaphone) had said that everyone that has kicked should stand up. I sit while the people around me stand. They turn to me and offer affection and sympathy because I haven't kicked...

-break-

The tournament is over. The arena has now been half-transformed into something like a room you would see in an old building in Philadelphia. Now, the pitcher is standing with a sword. The "loser"s of the contest are obvious among the crowd in that one is on his knees with his back to the pitcher, blindfolded, awaiting his punishment for playing so poorly.

A flash of a painting. In the painting, a blindfolded man kneeling...

The pitcher swings his sword and the loser's head drops to the floor with a subtle noise. The floor is wooden now. The room is much more material and solid than before.

The painting again. Except this time it is on the wall of the now all-encompassing room. The painting is apparently a documentation of the events that are taking place right now. There is a man with no head, a man about to be decapitated, and the regal woman, in a chair, with swords through her head, her eyes glowing. The horrifying imagery unfolds...

The pitcher calls for the woman. She sits in the chair. In a frightfully peaceful manner she doesn't wriggle or move when a servant of the pitcher slides a sword down into her head from above her forehead, through her tongue (something about her not being able to speak had to do with punishment for not getting a husband, but I don't see how she'd be able to do much of anything afterward) and out the bottom of her chin. It was so lifeless, the sword-plunger just pushing to get through the bone and her, just moving because of him, like a mannequin. It was so horrible. The motion was rough and life-like, and I felt sorry for her, despite what looked like apathy she had for the whole thing. Her eyes grew and turned a glowing green when the sword passed behind them, which I did not understand. She sat there, no longer in pain, completely devoid of life. The things in the painting were happening. However, in the painting she had also had two swords coming down from her temples out opposite side of her jawbones, making an X...

-wake-

The revolutionary war theme can be blame on the CTA. On the train last night there was an ad about the big first transit meeting or something, talking about transit revolution, and featuring a spoof of the painting of Washington on the river. It was funny because it was Washington and company in a train instead.

Kickball? Well, I just really have always liked kickball. The bases being fucked up like that might be derived from the way we played back in first grade, where the setup just was not right. We would play with weird bases and ghost men, and pretty much anything to make it a game. Stage? Well, in PE in junior high, we often sat on the stage in the gym to wait to bat, especially when playing indoor kickball. Sometimes the teacher would ask who hasn't kicked yet because people would like go to the end of the line just so they didn't have to.

The Philadelphia room is literally a Philadelphia room, based on being there and seeing things like the Hall of Congress, also based on paintings from that time.

The horror? Well, The painting I think I'll also attribute to the CTA, since it started the whole bit, and the punishments and tournament setting thing I think would be the fault of Gladiator, even though I thought I didn't remember enough of that movie for it to really influence me. I didn't like it. So that's probably a weak link. As far as the woman goes, it could be some crazy thing I saw one time or something combined with a backlash of my gender and culture class, which has led me to some misogynous thoughts lately. Of course nothing I've thought was this violent, or even violent at all for that matter.

I can not come up with anything for the pitcher or his sword. If anybody out there that knows me well has any ideas...it'd be appreciated.

So that's a dream I had last night. Any ideas or whatever, contact me. Any good dream interpretations emailed to me will be brought out into the courtyard for a public display. Any bad interpretations sent to me will be brought out into the courtyard for a public beheading.

 

Update! The imagery of the woman with the glowing eyes (at least her eyes and mouth, no idea on the swords) comes from an image that was on the front page of Something Awful which was actually the video cover (cropped) from the movie Scanners. Freaky. The image is here.