?

Log in

Dreamlog 2015.08.02-2015.08.03 - subterranean [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Richard Best

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Links
[Links:| Gates of Day Tarot ]
[Welcome to Bop Apocabbalahlypso| ]
[The Ramblings of an Eclectic Mongrel| ]

Dreamlog 2015.08.02-2015.08.03 [Aug. 4th, 2015|06:03 pm]
Richard Best
[Tags|]

The setting might be my grandparent's place in Michigan- I don't think it's even in the family anymore- whatever the case may be for that, dreams that take place 'there' often have some sort of sinister aspect to them, as this one certainly did.

I am living there with a guy from whom I used to rent a room, who in real life is a crank-snorting white supremacist who I have not seen for more than 10 years, and a woman who might be my girlfriend, or a composite of her and several other women (part of ny confusion as to her identity stems from me ending up with her flip-phone later in the dream, but I get ahead of myself), and a small dog, perhaps a chihuahua or terrier, which I think belongs to the guy but I'm not sure. The guy is very angry with me, for what reason I do not recall (but with the real-life him, that would likely have been a pretext masking whatever the 'real' reason was, and it would not be impossible for there to be a few layers of that- so who knows?), and after 3 or 4 escalating interchanges that each end up with him threatening violence against me, and being closer to actually carrying it out, the woman and I decide that I should get out of there- how she's going to defend herself against him if he turns on her apparently not being a concern, as it was not even addressed. So I leave.

Later that night, mode of transportation uncertain- I might have had a car in the dream and driven to where I end up, but I couldn't swear to it- I am wandering around a vaguely downtown/hotel area of a different city wondering where I might find a place to stay. Over to the left of where I am walking on the sidewalk is a small dimly-lit parking lot with a rickety cast-iron stairway only slightly more sturdy than a fire escape spiraling squarely up the side of the building it is attacherd to, and a fellow going up it who glances over my way a couple of times and then says, "You look like you're looking for a place to stay the night." I admit as much, and he asks what I've got- he doesn't say, 'to pay for it with,' but the implication is there. Well, I don't know; rummaging through pockets, I come up with a few loose marijuana leaves in a shirt pocket, which I don't find all too impressive myself, but he says, "That'll do." I continue checking for what I have in pockets, and in my right front pants pocket I have a package consisting of a ziploc-type sandwich bag with paper towel, or maybe a rag, wrapped around something inside, red-pink splotches showing through; opening it up and unwrapping it, I find that it's the dog's penis, with a note ('miraculously' untouched by the blood) saying, "I wish this had been you.", or, "This should have been you." In another pocket I have her flip phone, but actually it isn't- it opens from the end the way hers does after I wrestle with it for a few seconds, but then when I close it after not being able to figure out how to make a call from it (I don't have my own cell phone, she has 2, almost nothing I know about using the one I know anything about seems applicable if I should try to use the other one, and anyone else's phone, they're basically going to have to dial for me, or at least get it to the right screen for me to dial myself. This may change at some time in the future, but we're not there yet.), instead of opening from the end again it opens out along one side, and in this mode it has a larger screen and a full, though very small-buttoned, keyboard. I again start off with marginal success trying to place a call- I first end up in her voice mail, erasing a couple of old messages before I think to myself that she might have had some reason for keeping them, and finally manage to contact 911 or the police department where I've come from. They at first say they don't think they can really do anything, since I'm not in immediate danger (as far as I know), and I point out that the guy cut off a dog's penis and stuck it in my pocket- the dog has presumably bled out somewhere on the property, and that's animal cruelty for starters.

Dream ends.
linkReply