nightmares
Current mood: confused

Last night, I dreamed two different dreams. Both of them nightmares. one more than the other. In the first one I was sleeping, and was awokened to some sort of sound(probably the wind), I walked out into my living room and realized that the blinds were open(something that in my nighttime fears I try to avoid) I went to shut them and realized that there was a man sleeping outside, right in front of my window. He was disheveled and unshaven, arms crossed over his chest, coat flapping in the wind. I reached over and picked up the phone. I figured that I would call 911 just in case. I got some wierd operator instead, telling me that my call could not be completed as dialed. I kept trying, meanwhile trying to get the blinds closed without him noticing. oh and did I tell you that I was in my underwear only? All the more vulnerable. As I fumbled with the blinds and the phone, one of his eyes opened, then both. He was squinting up at the sky, waking up. In my fear, I ducked down behind my couch/futon, forgetting that the window went all the way down to the ground, and the couch had a huge gap beneath. I could see his face from my hiding spot. See it between all of the toys and books that had made their home beneath the couch. He started to look around suspiciously, his eyes coming to rest finally on me and my hiding spot. At first, he was unaware of me, but the more I lie there praying he wouldn't see me, the more he seemed to be aware of my presence. Finally his eye nearest to me, focused in on my face and he got up suddenly and threw himself against the window. I too stood up to be on my guard. I reached for my bat which, since we were in dreamland, happened to be a dull rusty axe. He began pounding on the window, threaatening to break it and so, anticipating this and attempting to keep the upper hand, I smashed the glass myself with the head of the axe. The glass shattered silently, spilling all over his face and hair, his tattered off black jacket and sat there glittering in th moonlight. he began to climb into the window at me and I kept trying to call 911 and of course misfired several times and when I finally got through, it was only the wierd operator again. When his body was half in, half out of the window, his head first, I swung. I hit him squarely on the top of the head and something starting gushing out of his wounds and it wasn't blood. It was some sort of yellow paste. He kept coming and I kept hacking away. Eventually he dropped down on the window sill, tumbling the rest of the way into the house. I stood there for a moment in shock, wondering what to do. I decided to call 911 on my cell phone, and just tell them what happened. I went into the kitchen, got the phone and dialed, getting through successfully this time. I told them my information and my current situation and as I talked, I looked over and saw that he was no longer there. I freaked, dropped the phone, and turned around just in time to see him coming at me, scissors glittering in his hands. They were mine, and I knew they were fairly dull, but I thought, in times like these, anything of considerable sharpness could kill you. I raised my rusty axe and hit him square in the chest, chopping him in half. Finally, he fell for good. His brains a foamy mess all over my carpet, his body in two connected pieces. At this point, I heard Violet talking in her sleep and I ran for the bathroom to wash up so I could go to her and comfort her. I woke up for real this time, covered in a cold sweat.

After putting on my pants and shirt, I got up and checked my house, satisified that everything was fine, I finally went back to sleep. I dreamed I was jogging down some tree lined street. I could feel my legs tiring, my breathing coming in gasps, I came upon a house with a man working in the yard. He hissed somthing under his breath as I passed, something about me being a dirty tramp. I ran faster, scared. Wondering why he would say that. I passed a wheelbarrow full of clay in the next yard. I thought it was strange for some reason, and after I passed, I turned back to look at it again and saw a figure forming out of the clay, climbing out of the wheelbarrow. Fully formed, I realized that it was a man. A clay man. He was leaping out of the barrow and sprinting after me. I tried to run faster, but he was inhuman. He was catching up to me. Finally, he pounced upon me, tackling me to the grass in a nearby yard where he proceeded to rape me. I screamed, but no sound came out. I fought and fought, and then finally I saw somebody coming up the road, walking their dog. I called out and as they turned in my direction, the pain and thrusting stopped. I was covered in clay, my legs sealed shut with the quickly hardening mess. The dog walker, turned away, disgusted, and just walked faster, past and away from me. I was again, vulnerable. I do not remember the rest other than in disjointed fragments.

So, apparently, I am an axe murderer and a statue fucker. Two more things to add to my repertoire of asshole things.