Shades of Grey
One more post for today. I have a dream I’d like to share. This dream occured three different times when I was a child, the first time when I was 7 I believe, and twice more until the last time, when I must have been 10 or so. It was the same dream, differing only in the location it appeared to take place.
I enter a room, empty save for several relevant items of furniture… A table, a chair, perhaps a bed with a mattress on it. Nothing too decorative, though. I would walk in, my heart racing for some unidentifiable reason. It was always daytime, perhaps an hour or two before noon. I would see several people in the room, namely my father, mother, and on two occasions someone else, someone who seemed familiar but I could never quite identify… Like a stranger you catch passing by in a car who looks like a long lost friend.
Then there’s one — twice, the same person, an old friend of mine — standing, or sitting in the center of the room on an old wooden chair. This was the center of my fears, as if each step I took was one step closer to the altar of an ancient mayan pyramid. As I approach my friend, who is either sitting or standing there unclothed, he looks at me silently then turns to reveal a zipper laced into his flesh, running from the top of his head to the bottom of his back. The others in the room look at me, expectantly, silently. I know what I must do, and I must do it with caution, as though to avoid some great consequence.
I reach up and tug at the zipper and his body begins to unfold, revealing a featureless, blood-colored mass, assuming the form of my friend. As I’m pulling, be it from some nervous twitch or bad luck, the zipper is caught on the way down, about upper- or mid-back. Anxiety sets in, and I struggle to get it unstuck, all eyes around the room evaluating my every action.
Suddenly with a strong pull, the zipper gives way and tears my friend open. The blood-colored mass within my friend’s skin suddenly shudders and dissolves all at once, spilling across myself and the floor. Leathery skin slumps to the floor and panic sets in. Just then, the stares turn to outraged glares as the others in the room approach me. With nowhere to run, I brace myself. “How could you!” They scream. “Why couldn’t you be more careful!?” I hear these a fleeting moment before being knocked to the ground from a heavy blow from behind. I plea for them to stop, but the blows keep coming.
I close my eyes and pray for escape, and then I wake.
I’m convinced that these dreams had some severe effect on my perceptions of others when I was younger, particularly towards my family.
