Amurehna

Forgot that I never copied this to my Dream Journal even though I made a post about it. I may as well add another while I'm here.

Co-worker acting Strangely - 12/14/2012

I don't remember how the dream began. Like many of my dreams it took place in one of my childhood homes, except that the wall dividing the two bedrooms at the end of the hall is gone so that it is one big room. A co-worker of mine (I'll call him K) is intentionally scaring people. But not in a leap-around-corners kind of way. More in an extremely-creepy-I'm-intending-to-murder-you way.

I'm watching him from the end of the hall. He's wearing ancient Chinese armor. It's all brown and black, the front and back are dark brown tiles linked together, with black plating underneath. He's wearing kind of a conical helmet with a face on the front, and a face on the back. The armor is designed in such a way that it's very difficult to tell which direction he is actually facing in. K is moving around the two people at the other end of the hall, twisting and sliding and bending like a contortionist.
This is about when I become aware it's a dream. I go to the other end of the hall, though he really scares me. I see that he's pulling a small bronze knife with a triangular blade from inside his armor. I can see another one. I make the choice to steal it as he's twisting around the man at the end of the hall. I believe that this is my only chance to stop the horror of K. So I grab the knife from inside his armor and stab him in the neck. The blade goes in, but he is bloodless. He takes the helmet off and removes the knife from his neck. It slides out like his skin is a sheathe. K slides the knife back into his neck and pulls it out several times, grinning at the three of us. I'm horrified.

The dream skips scenes. I'm standing at the start of the hallway again. I am very tired and I can see my bed. I'm really looking forward to sleeping. It has a tarnished brass frame and stark white sheets. That's when I realize K is laying in the exact middle of the bed, his presence deeply dismays me, though now he's just wearing a white t-shirt. The armor is gone. I assume he's not playing the creepy guy anymore, and see that as a role, a costume. I'm afraid, but I'm tired and I just want to rest. I walk to the bed and pull the sheet back like I'm going to lay down, but then I just stare at him. I can see the bloodless slit in his neck where he was keeping the knife. It really unsettles me. I go into the black doorway across from the bed, knowing it's my parent's bedroom. I realize the couple inside are not my parents, and I don't really know what I expect them to do about my problem. But, like a frightened child (that's even how I identified this action in the dream), I wake the man by lightly touching his foot.
"I don't know where I'm supposed to sleep....K is in my bed."
"It's alright, don't worry about it." The man says.
"But I'm afraid."
The man doesn't respond, I know he's gone back to sleep. I return to my bed. K rolls over and sits up. I just look at him warily.
"It's okay if you lay down." he says.
Reluctantly, I get under the sheets. I'm still afraid. He tries to reassure me that he's not going to kill me, but as he says it he pulls the bronze knife from under one of the pillows and casually slips it into the slit in his neck. He grins. I'm not reassured at all...

I honestly don't understand. As a person, K doesn't scare me. We're even work friends. On top of that I very rarely have nightmares, so I don't know why I had this one. Nothing has happened at work with K to trigger it. ((In hindsight this is hilarious. At the time it was true, I didn't really have nightmares for a long time. I've had many lately =/))

A man in a suit is talking to a young man with a narrow face, black eyes and black hair. He's giving him news of some inevitable event. The guy reacts childishly, beginning to protest in a high, frightened voice. "No, no, no, no, I don't want to. I don't WANT to. No, no, no."
The man in the suit frowns at him, thinking that obviously this person is more child than man. He had expected a more mature reaction. The kid looks dead-eyed, and for a second I wonder if he's pretending to be scared. Then I realize I've misinterpreted his wooden expression, he's terrified.


Saja and Wolf, Shame and Separation 02/05/2013
Part of this is going in a spoiler because it's sexual.
The beginning is much less clear than the end. I'm traveling in proximity with a group of people. It feels like we are on foot, going in the same direction but not actually together.
There's a long lush green field. They sky is gray overhead, but I've always liked how vivid the world looks following a rain spell. There are a couple of people flying kites. From the back, I recognize Walter Bishop. We end up riding bikes down the length of field , careful not to run long black hoses. I had a reason for doing that, but I can't remember it now.
We arrive at the house just before nightfall. The house feels old and rundown. The walls are wood paneled, the carpet dingy white. A few feet from the front door is a large mattress and a chair at the foot of the bed. I stand by the chair. A middle-aged man with curly black hair going gray, decides that the thing to do now is have sex.

Spoiler for grossness. :

Everyone except one woman and a couple of the men object. On the left half of the mattress is the man's brother, laying with a long legged blonde woman. She is only wearing a light blue button-up. He opens the shirt, spooning behind her. I catch the eye of the other man laying on the right half of the bed.
He eyes me lustfully. I just stand there, uncertain, unwilling. All around the house, people are pairing off. I feel like I have to do it too, and at the time, I almost want to.
"Take off your shirt, pants and bra. Leave on the that jacket and your panties."
I do as he says, leaving myself barely clothed now in white panties and a fuchsia duster that hangs to mid-thigh. He holds his hand out to me and I walk across the mattress on my knees to take it. He pulls me down in front of him. I feel a surge a disgust.
"Yes, that's nice." He croons as I lay down on my side. When I move the sweater pulls open. I'm pretty sure I don't want to have sex, especially with all these people around. He tries to convince me otherwise, telling me to watch the others. My eyes skate over the blonde and his brother. He's calling our attention to her arousal.
The man starts to touch me, pressing his lips to my neck and fondling my breasts. He slips a hand down between my legs and whispers to me. This goes on for a long time, but he doesn't take me. The whole thing feels like a mockery of something, and I can't put my finger on what it is. Like there's a deeply buried memory similar to what the man is doing, but this time I'm revolted.

A fierce-looking woman with red-blonde hair stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking disgusted. She beckons to me. I'm relieved I have a reason to desert the bed, I feel unclean. She goes to the window and peers out through the slats of the blind. It is late and the End is on its way. Unhealthy light flashes through the slats.
"They've started to gather. It's almost time."
"The others are out there?" I ask, intrigued. She glances down at me and I'm acutely aware that I'm mostly naked. I pull the sweater closed and cross my arms to keep it that way. "Is Wolf with them?"
"Who?"
"Our leader." I start to feel stupid. "The one who brought us here." I feel like I've made a mistake and it worries me.
"Oh. Him. I haven't noticed." She pauses. "So...you think that he orchestrated all of this." Her tone makes it sound like he's a low-brow brute and that my suggestion is entirely ridiculous. I'm offended for him, and for myself.
"No, the Spirits told him what to do."
"Oh, of course they did."
I wonder if 'Wolf' means nothing to them but I can't think of another name to call him. I sink into a chair that's angled slightly away from the window. She doesn't realize how deeply her lack of reaction has affected me. I ask about the first person I can think of.

"Is Saja with them?"
She gives me an uncomprehending look. "Could you check? She's..." I briefly describe her, she'd be small with curling black hair to her waist. I'm on the verge of tears now, my voice is thick with emotion.
"No." She responds, looking outside. "Maybe they just haven't arrived yet." She says it like she's just trying to make me feel better.
I completely lose it. My sense of purpose, my hope for all this to be over. The belief that my instincts were right just crumbles to nothing. I feel shame and revulsion for letting a stranger touch me so intimately and in front of others.
"I left for this?"
She doesn't understand what I'm talking about. I realize that she has forgotten all of it. Who we were, what we did, all that we left behind.
"I left Home so that some disgusting perverted stranger could feel me up? I left Liam for this?" I'm crying hysterically now. A different woman tries to comfort me but she has recently left one of the men and I can't stand the thought of her dirty hands on me. I've pulled my knees up to my chest and I'm hugging them as I sob nonsensical questions. The idea that we've come to this has broken me.

02/21/2013 Unsettling, Liam

This dream is unsettling because it was always difficult enough to walk around with this guy at work, because of how much he reminded me Liam. My reasoning mind kept me from thinking about it too much and after repeatedly working with him I had conditioned myself to ignore it. I had never dreamt anything like this with him as the focus and it made me very uncomfortable. For anyone who is hasn't been following along, Liam is a vivid DC who often appears in my dreams. He's tall, with copper or auburn hair and blue eyes. I'll leave the description at that.
I'm sitting on a dark blue couch pressed against a wall of dark tinted windows. It is night outside, it has a very...after-hours feel. Beside me is someone I used to work with who reminds me of Liam.
A pretty young woman sweeps out of the place, calling over her shoulder about meeting him later for coffee. He looks troubled, tense, unhappy. As I am about to ask him what's wrong, he speaks into the stillness.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to tell my wife." He says.
I smile sympathetically and pull my knees up onto the couch.
"I guess that depends on your intent. If you're going to coffee because you have feelings for her..."
He cuts me off with a humorless laugh. "You think this is about her?"
I freeze, unsure what I should do or say. Does that mean I'm the problem? Even in the dark I can tell he keeps glancing at me, deeply troubled. He averts his eyes, bowing his head, thinking how difficult this has become. He's trembling with the effort to...stay contained. To not cross a line. After a long moment, he reluctantly reaches over and touches my knee. This forcefully reminds me of Liam. I blush furiously, trying to stifle the rush of emotions that beset me. I sit very still. He starts to withdraw his hand when I pull it back by linking my pinky and ring finger with his, very aware of the weight of his hand and the pounding of my heart. He desperately wants this and doesn't at the same time.
I release his hand and rise to my knees beside him. I'm wearing a faded green tank top that I haven't seen since I was in high school. He presses his hand flat against my abdomen. I realize that this is the closest I will ever come to being intimate with Liam and decide to revel in the moment. He looks up at me. Faint light from outside illuminates the left side of his face and turns one eye into a shining pool. He looks so much like Liam that it hurts. He reaches up with his free hand and presses his palm to the left side of my neck. Again, I think of Liam. He draws me down and brushes his lips below my right ear. I lose track of everything.
Something forces me awake.

The beginning of the dream has the visual clarity of an old movie, a little faded, with occasional black lines. An elderly woman narrates, standing beside a large car. She's wearing a powder blue dress with a straw hat. Her fluffy curls look very white against her clothes. She's helping to load light mauve luggage into a net atop the car.
"Things were different in those days. Raised entirely on the farm, in quiet schools. When you came of age you would go off to University, and if the music was good (as it usually was) you'd join the chorus."

I don't remember what happened between that and this next scene.
Kvothe from The Name of the Wind is sitting in front of a small cook-fire, ringed in stones. He's wearing a loose white shirt and dark brown pants. His hair looks very red. He shifts to the other side of the fire as a slim woman with honey colored skin and short chestnut hair moves over to use it. She keeps looking at him disapprovingly. There's an L-shaped awning sticking out from the shed, connected to the front of the woman's house, it's her house we sit in front of. In front of the shed are two tables. I can see the front door and dusty sand-colored stone steps. Her husband comes home as Kvothe lifts a deep green guitar, using it like an upright bass. He is learning how to play the true names of things. He has just perfected 'fire'. He starts to play 'tree', gripping the neck and sliding all four of his fingers down the strings.
"HEY!" the man yells. Kvothe isn't quite playing it right, a tree nearby quivers violently and threatens to topple. Kvothe alters the note a little and instead of quivering the tree sings with the truth of its name. Kvothe grins and stops playing. The man rolls his eyes.
"Yes, yes. You are very clever."
The man keeps scowling at Kvothe, like he doesn't want him there but is obligated to teach him Name Songs so that he doesn't hurt anyone with his wild talent.
I think how the color of the guitar matches his eyes.

I'm running on a long narrow walkway that stretches from one end of the street to the other, hugging a sand colored building. I stop at the edge and look at what I'm holding in my hand. Three colored stones. One is the amethyst crystal I fell asleep wearing on a chain around my wrist. The other two are pendants I have, usually labradorite, and amber. Now they are both dark red. I blink, thinking they should be a different color.

I hear the alarm going off in the other room and wake up. I doze back off trying to think of how to start writing my forum DJ post. It starts with the old woman. When I get to the part where she mentions music, a strain of music swells in the back of my mind drowning out her voice. I try to focus on it and backtrack to the end of her sentence. When I regain focus the car is gone and I am a young girl, reveling in new found summer freedom. There's a dirt path in front of the house where the car was parked. I run down it to the stable. I'm thinking how the house was small and correct myself, thinking that it was the 60's, it should be a large, sprawling property. As I think it, my surroundings change subtly, feeling more open.
The stables are huge, when I pass them I look inside, they are corrugated metal.
"We had many animals, of all different kinds."
They pour from the stalls, horses (which I'm very excited to see), cows, sheep, chickens, cats...so many. When they run out into the open with me I notice a simple black tent pitched in the middle of the field. It moves to follow us, I can't see inside. As my father meets us the tent jumps a little, I think that inside is a wolf. A feral one. Then I see our tame wolf she's mostly white, looks kind of like this:
http://4packs.webs.com/1%20%20%20%20...%201%20aca.jpg
She sits down at my father's feet, looking lovely. I stare intently at the tent, waiting for the other wolf to emerge...

And the alarm in the other room goes off again.

This dream has three layers.
In the first I am a man, a soldier, wearing a battered colonial uniform. Out of the corner of my eye I see the small weathered row boat that will take me across the water to the island. I know the kind people there will hide me. I have an old book open, laying page down across my knees. There's one last bit of evidence to link my name to this place. The spine (and one inch to either side) is covered in white leather with gold writing.
I glance up before I take my knife to the back of the book and see the calm ocean and clear sky, an island crowned with trees, then to my right a narrow strip of beach. I press my blade into the cover and where the sharp edge meets its surface the dusty red cover begins to fray. My own self has a moment of worry. I can see the fibers beneath the leather separating. I'm damaging a valuable artifact!
Then the character's personality supersedes my own. I realize it doesn't matter if I damage it, as it will never leave the island. Now I just have to destroy the leather...

It has been 14 years since I went into hiding. I married an island woman and together we raised a daughter named Antila. Soon she will be initiated into the tribe. She is small-framed, like her mother, but with my coloring. Pale, flawless skin, gold-brown hair and eyes. She could be a self-centered snot.
I see her now, some of her hair up in a gold-cross wire cage, a gold choker and an ankle-length white dress.
I become Antila, running alongside a stone wall. It used to be a tunnel but now there's a jagged hole in the ceiling, as I pass I see a flash of vivid green foliage and a lacework of sky. I rush to the end and turn into the courtyard. This place has no roof, all the same stone with tree visible at every side. I see my father standing by the far wall with several others, the tribe elders. This is the Ritual of Choosing. On the wall behind him are engraved three animals, all in peaked stone windows. In one is a mammoth, the middle one I don't remember, and the last looks like a combination of a lion and a wolf. In the engraving of the lion-wolf a bright blue stone glimmers in the sun. I know he has chosen me.
There's a lapse and I'm sitting on a stone bench, a dark haired muscular man settles down next to me. He washed ashore a few weeks ago and has yet to leave. In truth , the elders want to keep him here if he can't be judged honest. The last thing my father needs after 14 years of hiding is to be exposed by this man. We have a conversation, my father interrupts and calls the man away. I'm a little annoyed when I realize what he's saying. I'll talk to whoever a please!
"What did I say to you? I warned you to stay away from my daughter."

I rise into another layer of sleep but I believe I have woken up. The house is larger than it should be, and my sister is living with me. I try to tell my sister about the dream I'd been having. Being the soldier, then his daughter, then describing the tunnel and the engraved animals.
"Do you know what plateaus are?" I ask her, but she just gives me a blank look. I try to describe where part of the village sits, and how the top of the plateau is subtly tiered, and covered in moss instead of grass.

The dream slips and I am myself, back in the village. I'm standing in the tunnel and there are small rugs rolled up and piled together against the wall. A young man walks by and says something to tease me when the rugs roll from the careful pyramid I've been crafting. I glance at him, unamused. When he and his friends see that I'm not taking their good natured teasing as it is meant, they stop to help me pick up the rugs, smiling to show they meant nothing.
As I see this scene the soldier from before is speaking about how I was forced to leave the island.
"See what you made her leave? How different it is where you made her go? And you call me unkind for confining my family to this place. There is no cruelty here."
The whole thing sends a ripple of grief through my chest, and with it I flip back to my house, I cover my face and cry.

There's a third layer, but I don't remember this one very well, it was right before I woke up. All the people from the island, have come here to this place of cruelty. Some have found themselves imprisoned like they are animals, but I'm the only one that can see who they really are. A young man with shoulder-length white hair and a woman with long black hair huddle naked in a roofless cage, thick metal collars around their necks with chains bolted into the concrete.
One second I think that this man looks exactly like Wolf. A DC I encounter often. I try to realize how untrue that opinion is, he really looks nothing like Wolf, but the dream takes hold of me and I cannot argue. It's nice, everything in the city is glistening with the recent rain. I see other people from the island, from one angle they look like lion-wolves, but from another they look like people. They are beginning their revolt, breaking free.
I wander over to a grey building that reminds me of a barn. A man kneels on the threshold. He notices me, looking terrified.
"Tell me you can see the dead." He says.
I shake my head, confused, but then something catches my notice at the corner of my vision. An impossibly tall woman with a weathered-dead face and no eyes looming over him. I back away and leave him to his fate. Then I see them everywhere, standing at the cage where Wolf and the woman are chained, down the street stalking one of the lion-wolves...