2.23.03: Anyway, the past two nights my brain has conjured the oddest dreams and I've not a clue as to what they mean... if anything at all. *sighs* I don't quite remember the sequence of events, but I'll do my best to relay them for my benefit.
Last night's main gist delt with, erm, boxing?
I found myself standing in clear, grassy meadow with a shallow man-made pool dead center… the area wasn’t quite open because it boasted an air of enclosure, as though near translucent plaster walls created a room in which we all stood, although bright as daylight despite it. There were a few boys/men and a few young girls accompanying me, learning boxing under the instruction of some familiar friend, a combination of Markus and Clay (my tumbling coach and camp director). We appeared to be boarding in a summer camp fashion… All I remember is that we would be “outside” practicing whatever was being taught to us in the way of hand-to-hand combat (lacking the gloves associated with boxing) and conversing amongst ourselves when strangers, younger than us, arrive and we would escort them out of our special hideaway because they weren’t welcome to stay for the lessons. I suppose this dream occurred in the space of several weeks due to the fact that the lighting would change and so my sense of time would differ, but later on I recall myself standing precariously on the edge of the pool, back turned to the opposite side (and my view as well, it switched from 1st person the 3rd person perspectives), scantily covered by a navy blue, one-piece swim suit, as I tentatively dove backwards into the crystal water several successive times. (I’ve always been cautious of leaping backwards into anything… especially water. I once did a back flip off a diving board and was so close I knocked my forehead on its hard surface.) With each dive I became more emboldened and arched them higher and higher until they became full fledged tucks. I could feel the slick sandstone rim beneath my wriggling toes and the water gliding over my smooth skin as I submerged myself. And each time I would happily emerge, drenched and ready to plummet again, hands groping for the ledge and hauling limbs up and over. It was dusk, you could tell by the quickly darkening skies and the sheen over our surroundings. Someone asked why I was doing this as I erupted from the water for the final time.
Taken from my LJ-I ran across this while attempting to clean out my computer's files... the ending of a dream I had quite a while back, if you'll note the date at the end. I don't believe I ever posted this and I don't feel like posting the beginning either, but I know the title of the entry if you're really interested: "Just a few things..." 2-23-2003.
(Continuance) A man in camouflage appears from nowhere to take shelter among the shadows of the buildings and shrubbery clasping one of those old fashioned 18th century rifles with the sword tip extending from it (which I later identified as a bayonet). He was near the pool I was treading in, flashing about his weapon. He caused quite a commotion, striking fear in every innocent bystanders’ heart, as people scrambled for shelter he took aim and began launching bullets… I remember the hovering body of a child, floating effortlessly towards me, her blood tainting the pool in tiny eddies like oil in water; a mother’s screams from amid the water, I took refuge in the corner end of the mass body of it, squirming in its depths willing myself to stay under…
the horrifying look in that man’s eyes reflected in the liquid and bubbles whirling about my face and I found that I was breathing under the surface and not inhaling anything but life-giving air… how? … Then, rambling images, including battered muddy critters (hamsters and rabbits), disease ridden and mournful; and myself curing these nearly black and decaying daffodils, diseased with some plague as the animals had been; I injected them with some vaccination and from the point of glimpsing those animals the “screen” seemed hazed and blackened at the edges as though a spotlight illuminated that which was in my line of vision at the time, being mostly focused down upon my furiously working hands… and something about a lab and sewer pipe? My vision following rapidly the descent of the pipe… The last image pressed within my mind was my weightless body beneath the faceted sheen of water barely sealed solidly above my face… 3-24-03
I remember something about a cave… but that’s about as close to the beginning scene as I can get… the next part appeared to take place in Main St. square, minus the gently spilling waterfall at the head of the mini field and gazebo situated near the center, pointed tip reaching for the skies… I suppose then it would be the school football field relocated to where the square is (symbolic of the renovations?)… The field is exposed to the elements on all sides and bordered by streets which act as the square ‘s boundary. It was very late this evening and the football game still in play; the cheerleaders (including myself) had congregated towards the northern end of the field near the main street and its small town evening traffic… I recall looking down and realizing the colors of the uniform I sported, green and red… (if you know Boerne, those are most definitely not our colors) a fly-away 16 pleat skirt, 2 layers, red on top, polka-dotted toneless green beneath… and a dark red crop top with a forest green ‘V’ down the chest… We were prancing down the side of the street all snooty with our noses in the air… a teen-age boy about our age jumped out of the dark with a skirt in hand, grinning slyly at me, “I dare you to flash everyone,” he taunted, teeth flashing my way… I ‘d noticed the polka-dotted under skirt (which seemed to serve as bloomers) was all that was showing and that the red one must be gone or flipped up to reveal this one… I calmly, but hurriedly smoothed it down, as the wind must have disturbed it, answering with a condescending look and a clear “No”. The other girls thought I should have gone through with his challenge and giggled immature-ishly at me… The view of the field shifted and I was standing down the field on the opposite corner accompanied by another boy… tall, lanky, buzzed hair, kind of resembled Buddy in that way, dressed casually in simple faded jeans and a plain button up shirt… and then Glenn appeared next to him (odd, since he should be playing in the game rather than chatting idly with myself, not that he spoke much at all) close to my side in addition to the other… as the 3rd boy was yet to arrive next to Glenn, a commotion stirred the crowd, onlookers and players alike scrambled like a herd of buffalo to the center of the grounds in terror… I clutched at the cross dangling from my neck and squeezed it in my palm as I raced to shove my way into the mass of frenzied people, praying not to be taken as hordes of vampires dropped from the sky upon us, thrashing amongst us, hunting for someone, something… One by one, then by tens the people dropped… I felt the thin metal cross bending with the ferocity of my grip and the raised points of decoration imprinting themselves as the vampires closed on me from within the people… a medium height, stocky man with a shaved head scrabbled through the throng of people standing in his wake, his unholy eyes glinting hatred and glee… I fumbled with the cross, managing to rip it from its resting place upon my neck and unbend it moderately, enough to sizzle upon the man plowing towards me, leaving a bubbling blister the shape of my pendant tattooed on the bulk of his shoulder… and then came the rain… as if it wasn’t gloomy enough in these circumstances… I remember thinking about that necklace I boasted at the game (there was no scene at this point just blackness and my thoughts careening through my emptied mind) and how Ms. Gingrich (our cheerleading sponsor) doesn’t allow us to wear jewelry while cheering… what were to happen if I were attacked again? I would have not the slightest bit of protection… I awoke within my dream to a blackened room, my room, and stumbled to the bathroom, I saw flashes of my body from all angles… my hair disheveled and matted, still clad in my uniform, except dirty and ripped at the seems, shredded, the top shorn shorter, fully revealing a toned stomach… and … a bruise the size of my face stretched across the right side of it, a tattoo across my left… the face of that vamp whom I’d scorched with my cross… leering at me from the mirror, part of a cloak draped across the shoulders just visible over the trim of my skirt, his fangs protruding… In fact, I was covered in tattoos and bruises… messages scrawled, images… there was something scrawled under the tattoo on my abs… but I don’t think I could make it out properly in the lighting. I clawed through the jewelry box on my countertop for another cross and lifted out a tiny gold one with a swirly design embedded in the surface of it… I recall seeing a gold chain about my neck in the mirror… At any rate my mother had called me down… Someone was at the door for me… It was still pouring and outside on the circular drive stood Renee, an old friend I’m not so close to anymore. She was cloaked in black (about the same fashion as the man of my tattoo), hood barely obscuring her face as rain cascaded down the material… she wore plenty of goth jewelry beneath the cloth and I remember watching it sparkle every so often… I don’t know why she was there; I simply stood shivering, arms hugged in front of my chest. I’d said something about getting wet and led her around the side of the house where I positioned myself under cover of the warming garage… Her master coasted down from above… first black clad feet extending beyond the grand door opening, then ever infamous flowing cloak… and up and up along his body until he came to rest, hovering in the vicinity of Renee and I, proceeding to tell me about some precious jewel he sought after, producing a cane with a similar piece, he said, as he pointed to the crown of his staff. It was gold, studded with a pattern of chain mail diamonds all the way around it, from one tiny gold post to the next… within its center a freshwater pearl hesitantly bobbed. My mouth curved into an oval of understanding as I pulled from thin air a more elaborate shimmering trinket. It was like one of those plastic hinge-work toys that unfold when you tossed it into the air, but unlike his, my diamonds where authentic and the pattern differed to accommodate more gold trimmings… and from within mine, a blood ruby burst to within centimeters of the structure (mere centimeters itself), flaring color in all directions, spinning confidently inside its confines… it looked, for all intents and purposes, like a rosebud because of the tiny leaf-like gold flats cupping the base of the ruby… the vampire leaned in closer, his hand beginning to outstretch, lingering… it’s pallor lustily echoed in his eyes… I snapped the crown-like model shut, the ruby falling inside of the collapsing piece at once, as he too snapped out of his desire filled daze. “No,” I said flatly yet firm. “You cannot touch it.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he reassured me greedily… I calmly reopened my palm so that my piece would flower out once more…
Our meeting ended abruptly and I dashed for the garage door remote to close it before his goons could come in, but they did, these monstrous, ugly things rolled under the door as it shut with a resounding clang and I franticly pressed the button to lift it to rid the garage of it as one would lower a window to rid a car of a fly… One went out, but 3 more found their way in. I was outraged and hysterical, running in the house door trailed by them… They stopped in the laundry room as if they could go no further, protected by some imaginary force field, I shouted to my mother to retrieve a gun from the safe… she practically offhandedly strolled to the study just down the left end of the hall and returned with tiny sewing pins (3)… what did she expect me to accomplish with these!? So I did what I only could do… pricked these massive beasts (one was blue-green and heavy set) over and over… until somehow I pricked myself… my eyes teared up and my mother came to me, picked up the pins I’d let fall to the tile. She began methodically stabbing some blue thing on the floor at the mosters’ feet… they appeared to be dissolving, I suppose they began dying… I don’t know I woke up just then… 6-28-03