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Great Gams,What a Terrible Dream!

I dreamed that I was witness to the beginning of the end of days, the arrival of the devil on earth. I was in a room as the door began to cave inwards,and everything was breaking and shattering around me; in my hand there was a bottle, not like one you drink out of but square at the top. Somehow I was indicated a direction of escape, upwards and out, at approximately 10 to 10.30 if one considered it as on a clock face, or North West on a compass, but from where I stood it was definitely upwards rather than along.

This series of images repeated itself, as if to make sure I wouldn't forget. But I take comfort from the fact that t it was obviously an illness dream, me snuffling away unable to breathe in my sleep.  Also, various parts were taken from memories. The bottle looked exactly like the witch-killing bottle from the Horniman, the caving in of the room was very similar to the attack a few years back when the man broke down the door, the difference being that there was no blood in the dream, and instead of just the door everything was being destroyed around me. In a way it is a good sign, because it means that my PTSD flashbacks are becoming assimiliated into memory.

The second part showed no images directly taken from recent memory. I was in a field, using a scooper to clear dogs poo from the earth;there were some places so churned up no separation of earth and faeces was possible.I saw a man in a field next to me, grey haired or holding up a silvery grey plant, and there was a flash of purple to it too. I climbed over a style because it seemed wise not to be in a place where a strange man could reach me so easily. There was a country lane filled with people, pleasant enough, we were all going in the same direction. I suddenly discovered I had a dog. One silver haired lady commanded him and he obeyed so well that other people tried to start telling him what to do. I told them not to,because I didn't want them to take advantage of his good nature.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 19th, 2016 09:45 am (UTC)

Christ, who kicked your door in?

Oct. 19th, 2016 09:00 pm (UTC)
A crack-addict burglar. I describe it here, which is becoming distant now:

It was unpleasant but not the most horrible kind of thing. I was fortunate - the worst result was classic PTSD, which I feel is gradually being assimilated into memory.

Edited at 2016-10-19 09:00 pm (UTC)
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )



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