Progress?

I am at your house begging you to give me a little bit of your time. If I could just talk to you, I know we could walk out all of those old, pointless problems.

You’re stubborn and refuse to do so. Your sister is behind you trying to intimidate me into leaving. I refuse to leave because I know we can make it work if we tried. I try to explain this to you, but you continue to ignore me. There’s nothing I can do to get you to be a decent person and at least talk to me so I begin walking away.

It is a late fall day around 4:30p.m. The sun has almost gone down, and as I walk away I see an above-ground pool. There are brown oak leaves floating on the surface of the uncovered pool. The air is cold.

I awake. This dream is important because it is the first time you’ve refused me instead of either begging me to talk to you, or you agreeing and coming to the same conclusion as I did. I think the dead oak leaves floating in an unused pool may symbolize the nearing end of the mourning period.

This is not a good getaway.

I am with my friends from college in my old farm house.  There is no electricity, and we are rifling through all the old antiques.  We keep finding hidden closets and cubbies in the house, too.  The spaces are very cramped and there’s barely enough room.  We push forward, narrowly escaping getting stuck inside the home.  At one point we stop in a decently sized room, and I admire an old baby carriage.  One of my friends needs to leave to begin a paper, and the other decides to follow.  I am alone in the house for a few moments before I realize that that is the last place I want to be by myself.

I run outside and look for my car, but as I spot it, I see someone else driving it off.  The urge to leave immediately is strong, so I walk over to another Jeep Cherokee and take that instead.  In the passenger’s seat is the mother of a girl I went to middle school with, and in the driver’s seat is someone’s corpse.  I was feeling a lot of pressure to get away from there, so I decided to muster up all my courage and proceed to sit on the corpse in order to drive away.  I pull out the driveway and get on the road.

The farm house sits on the top of the mountain, so the road takes you all the way down into the valley.  On my way down, my vision starts getting blurry and fading.  I explain to the woman that I can’t see and she begins freaking out.  At this point she tells me I am swerving all over the road and I need to stay in the lines.  I start freaking out too because for this moment, I am blind.  At the bottom of the mountain we finally crash.   The Jeep is flipped over on its roof, and I somehow manage to get myself out through the window.  When I get out there I see a  young boy.

That is when an eight foot gargoyle, who is not made of stone, flies down with his massive wings and using his toenails, cratches up the boy’s face.  The gargoyle’s skin is green and slimy.  The gargoyle now has a two by four in his hands.  This two by foot has about one hundred nails hammered into it that come out on the other side.  He begins to take this two by four and repeatedly attacks the young boy with it.  The boy is covered in blood and falls to the ground eventually.  He doesn’t move.  The gargoyle flies up into a tree.

This is my chance to make my getaway.  I begin running, but can feel a presence behind me.  I turn around, and it is the gargoyle again with the two by four flying at full speed to reach me.  The gargoyle swings the two by four into me, and the nails penetrate into my back and arm.  As he rips it back out of my skin, I begin to bleed profusely.  He takes it and hits again, but this time in the head.  I’m sure this causes some kind of brain damage, but I still try one last time to get away.  The pain is intolerable, but staying there to be killed wasn’t an option.  Finally, the gargoyle swings one last time, landing a fatal blow at my temple.

The pain is crippling, and I awake.

What’s cooking?

I stand outside “the house of death”.  Something is wrong, and there are chills racing up and down my spine.  For a moment I am immobilized with fear.  I want to make a phone call to somebody, but as I go through my contacts list I realize nobody is around.  Finally, I think of someone to call but their name escapes me before I can put that thought into action.  The image of the person I wanted to call is that of a little girl.  I try and think more on the image to help myself remember who I wanted to call, and the little girl’s features become sharper and more crisp.  She opens her mouth and slowly begins smiling.  Her teeth are all sharpened to a point, and they are covered in blood.  I now am overcome with the urge to run.

I run away through the back of my neighbors lawn.  Heading towards my house, their cat comes with me after first scratching me up very badly.  With blood dripping down my legs and arms, I continue running through the back of their yard with the cat on my back.  I look up into the sky, which paralyzes.  I see UFOs in the sky.  As I look closer their lights are making layers of brightly colors outlines in the sky.  First there is an image of a devil, then a jester, then devil, and so on.  The devil image particularly scared me, so I run faster into the back of my yard.  The moonlight is so bright, I run towards the oak tree in order to high more easily.  The car has morphed into my deceased dog.  My dog wanders ahead of me and turns left instead of right.  I can’t see him anymore, but I hear his shrieking barks, as if he were in great pain.  This scares me more so I continue toward the house.

As I reach the driveway, my garage is to the right of me. The door is open, and I see a man inside holding a gun.  I quickly run past him, towards the house door.  I walk up the steps, while screaming, “Mom! Mom there are people here to get us! Get something, a gun, anything,” and just as I am about to grab the door, my mom comes out the door.  She’s struggling to fight another man.  I help her to try and kill him.  We pick up this man together and begin to repeatedly throw his body as hard as humanly possible against the vinyl siding of the house.  With each blow, blood sprays everywhere.  The deck is soaked red; as are we.  We continue hurling his body at the siding, and I look inside the house while doing so.  In the entryway is a very large pressure cooker.  It is the size of a human.  Next to it, I see one of those barbecue forks that is three feet tall.  It is covered in blood.  I wonder what’s cooking.

Then I awake.

Surreality

I am in my room talking to my Spanish advisor.  We sit on the futon in the ungodly heat that is too often present.  The sun has been out all day for a change.  Strangely, I’m listening intently as if I care what he’s telling me.  He goes on and on, explaining every excruciating detail of his life during college and after, until he becomes an advisor.

            He always wanted to study abroad, but never had the time.  He finally got his chance after his undergraduate studies were completed.  It was the best experience of his life.  Then he came back for graduate school, and he was offered a position here at the university  Of course this is not every single thing he tells me, but I feel it is unnecessary for others to be bored out of their minds as well.  As he continues telling me redundant things, I hear the doorknob clicking.

            I awake.  My two friends enter the room, but I can’t manage to fully get up.  I can hear everything that is going on, however I am still dreaming about my Spanish advisor.  I try with all my strength to force myself out of this dream, but it proves to be easier said than done.  When I finally manage to wake up, I look around to find my friends sitting in my roommate’s bed, watching her television.  I explain to them my crazy dream that I had, and I tell them how hard it was to pull myself out of it.  We discuss about our days until the door slams shut.

            I awake.  I am in my bed again.  My roommate has just walked in.  Underneath my pillow, my phone begins to vibrate.  I search around for it, and eventually, I give up.  This phone call can wait.  I am tired and would like to go back to sleep.  I get comfortable and drift off again.

            I am now in a rainforest.  The vegetation dwarfs me and the air is so thick with humidity, it can almost be grabbed.  I walk deeper into the jangled mess of vines and trees.  While stepping, I feel a sharp shooting pain going up my leg.  I look down to see blood spilling out from a bite.  There is a disgusting, blue bug running away fast.  I hear a noise in the distance, but quickly it comes closer.

            I am awake.  It is my phone vibrating.  I answer the call.  This is when I realize this is the first time I actually, really woke up.

Suited Nazis

As I drive back from school, the snow is falling excessively. My two friends and I had been drinking. My vision is blurred, and my reaction times are sluggish. Transportation becomes an agonizing task with near white-out conditions and ice-slicked roads. I am selfish, and I worry I will get myself killed. My thoughts never once rest on the lives of my friends. The car comes to a stop before I realize I had put my foot on the brake. I get out of the car.

There is a rock wall in the ocean ahead of me. I dive into the ocean and swim for the wall, which I decide to climb. At the top of this wall, the snow stops and melts within milliseconds. There is no trace of what had once been. On the other side of the wall its is very dreary. A house in the distance is masked by a cloud of dust being carried in the wind. A strange man is walking around outside.

I peer closer, when I come to the realization he looks very similar to the man I had seen in the Saw movies. An eerie chill creeps up my spine, and a knot in my throat prevents me from swallowing. I knew something bad was happening, and I had to find out what.

Despite everything I have seen in horror movies, everything I had ever said I would do if in a situation like this, I still go to that house. I find a basement window with the panes missing and climbed inside, careful not to harm myself in the process. I look around for anything suspicious or evidence that would incriminate this disturbing man. Mainly, I look for bloodstains. The longer I spend looking, the more nervous I begin to feel. Soon my anxiety is consuming; it overpowers my curiosity and forces me to abandon my investigation immediately. Once outside, I begin to run in hopes the man didn’t catch me in his house.

With every step I take while running, a cloud of dust from the dirt roads rises above my now-empty footprints. I look behind me. He’s chasing me. I run faster until my lungs ache and my muscles cramp. I’m gasping for air, for life. I turn around, and he can’t be seen. I hide and watch the dirt road like a hawk hunting its prey. I see the door of an old warehouse built of steel open. It is him.

Somehow, nearly escaping my demise gives me more courage. I creep up to the window of the warehouse and stare inside. The man stands towering over a nude woman shackled to the wall. There are cuts and dried blood all over her body. The man then proceeds to cut the woman’s throat, killing her as she bleeds out. He takes a paring knife and skillfully works it underneath the woman’s skin starting at her neck, moving downwards. This isn’t complete until he makes a final tug at her skin. He pulls at her feet, causing the skin to slide off her body. It resembles a perfect, skin suit. Content with his craftsmanship, he takes off his mask. It is Adolf Hitler.

Hitler takes the suit and steps into it. He is now wearing the skin of a woman. His wife, Eva, walks into my sight. On the workbench is another suit made of skin. She puts it on and walks over to Hitler. They kiss passionately until this leads to sex, all while wearing their skin suits.

Then I awake.

After Departure

The clouds were painted a shade of silver never to be seen before. The sparkles swirled with hints of danger. The sound to be heard was silence. Upon closer looking, the clouds revealed themselves to actually be extremely thin glass panes housing ice. As the plane inched forward, the cracking of the clouds from the approaching wings grew louder.

I was worried as I got into my seat. Normally, I would take the seat next to the window, but something in the air compelled me to do otherwise. My skin felt colder than usual. I could feel my veins begin to freeze. Sitting next to me was my friend, when all of a sudden a surge of fear engulfed my mind.

The shattering of the clouds had grown louder. With every loud noise came horrific turbulence followed by a brief period of freefalling thousands of feet above the world below.

I often have dreams where I wake up because of this feeling. These dreams race through my head while I try and predict my impending future. Death is the only possibility to come to mind.

I squeeze the hands of my friend, which I’m clenching onto so hard; all the blood has drained from them, and they are now turning white. He tells me that for once the weather is really nice in Buffalo. Of the many times I’ve flown from this airport, I have never experienced such a horrendous flight. The fear inside of me continues to grow until the monster completely suffocates any remaining sanity.

The only thing able to penetrate through the wall of fear is a man behind me asking the time. My lack of response only exacerbates the questioning. This swell of terror inside of me rapidly transforms. Fear becomes anger.

My veins thaw as the anger boils my blood. The fire of rage began to give heat off, slowly transferring to the plane. This alone began to melt some of the clouds in benign rain droplets. However, my impatience has finally reached its limit. I scream as loud as I can at the man to stop asking for the time. The pitch that this scream is received at is not quite deafening, yet it still manages to crack all of the remaining glass in the clouds. As the glass downpours on the plane, it begins to, yet again, freefall.

This time is different though. The plane regains no balance. As we fall it’s in slow-motion, similar to falling in an endless pit. The ground seems near, but never gets any closer. By now my friend’s hands are bleeding from my nails digging so deeply into his skin. Any fury inside of me has gone limp. My insides are jelly, and I am swallowed up by the fear again. This abruptly comes to the end when the plane crashes.

We are in Chicago, in a forest of some type. The plane has crashed over large palms, and passengers are using these palms for support as they depart through the plane’s emergency exits. Somehow, everyone manages to stay alive. I find my father and talk to him.

He has driven himself and his friend to Chicago. He tells me to get back on the plane so I can go home. Despite trying to explain the deep fear I now have for flying, he tells me it is illogical for me to drive with him when I can fly back. What makes it worse is despite almost enduring a fatal experience, he refuses to protect me.

Then I awake.