Here be dragons

I'm on a beach under a grey sky. The sea is green and churning, with a lot of thick foam. The sand is grey and rough, packed hard and cold under my feets. There's a heavy wind, the smell of the sea rushing around. There's a woman and a man here, in a hushed argument. Both are brown haired, the woman with a sloppy ponytail and the man with a shaggy cut. The woman is hugging something to her chest and the man is begging, his sweet, open face full of sadness and longing. She steps away from him and drop what she was hugging into the water, kicking it away in the waves. It's a pelt, a grey, shiny seal pelt, and it's melting in the sea, turning into seamfoam under the waves. The man, the selkie, is devastated, torn by the lost. He hugs himself, head low and shoulders hunched. I go to him, touching his arms lightly, try to confort him. He looks up to me, and his soft, milky skin is tanning at an accelerated pace, covering itself with layers unpon layers of heavy freckles, his cheeks reddening like the begining of a sunburn. I touch his jaw, his skin is hot and feverish. He takes my hands in his and his fingers are cold and wet.

I woke up to the new of David Bowie's death. He said goodbye so often I can't believe it's real this time. He shaped a large part of my teenage years and I started to embrace weirdness, scary monsters and supercreeps thanks to him.
I kind of forgot my dream after that.

I'm at tha old university, there seem to be a problem with my diploma and the administration is as helping as usual. I get fed up and frustrated and walk out to get a breather. Here I met with a young man*, talking with me about my training period under his wing and being pretty clueless and hurtful. I get even more upset and get away from him, goign to the hospital collaborating with the university. I get down to the basement, which has turned into a sort of warehouse full of glimmering machinery. Operating one of those is the man I worked with, tinkering with it while someone watch. I notice a woman and a toddler off to the side, and while I can't see their face I know that they are his wife and son. I'm happy to see them well and happy; the boy is playing and squealing when his mother give him ice chips to eat. She propose me one and her husband mock-scold her about it; I say that I'll never pass the occasion to eat a book, and she hands me some "dictionnary ice". It doesn't have any particular taste, but I thank her. The man and me talk a little, sharing news. He seem pretty upset that I left the university and the project we worked on, and I try to tell him how hard it was for me, but I make myself upset and can't say the words. He seem to understand and stops me. Before I leave he looks like he's going to hug me, but both of us are too shy and akward for it.

*my superior was a young woman, but she had a lot of students to work with so I was left to my own devices a lot.

I woke up pretty early and decided to go for a WBTB.

I'm slightly lucid, enough that I want to track down the forceful man. The sky is overcast again, the colors both muted and intense. I find myself in a busy crowd, walking on a path in a park. It got a nice landscaping, with stones paths like the one I'm walking on, with nice half buried archways providing shadows in the summer, ponds and old trees, but the paths are riddled with potholes, and this one is caked with feces and sick. It's disgusting and people around me are obvious to it, except a woman who is desesperatly trying not to step in it. I follow her steps and we end up in a store, as crowded as the park, but at least it's clean. I caught a glimpse of a blond-haired man dark clothing, his hair silvery in the artificial light, but he disappear before I can reach him. I fall back to the woman I was with, she's arguing with a vendor about something. Finally she get her bag and smile to me, so we get out together. I ask her about the man I'm looking for, and she seem pretty disaprouving. She tells me he live on the upper hills, in a castle or a manor. I ask her to guide me, and that's the last lucid thing I do, but she say I can't go now. She takes me back to the park, in a nook that's cleaner that the rest, with a old bathtub with clawed feets. The bathtub is full of soapy water, and I strip off to get in and wash off the filth from earlier. The air os cold but the water warm, so I only let my head out of it. The woman unbraids my hair and wash it, before pulling out of her bag a big comb made of black, shining wood with a ivory and onyx handle, curved like a vine and orned with a flower. She starts to comb my hair, taking strands of it out the tub to do so then putting it back in. It float around me, filling half of the tub and covering me like algae.
She then tells me I need some markings to do what I have in mind. She asks me to sit up and I do, shivering in the cold air. She put something cold and hard against my back, between the shoulderblades, telling me it's for speed and flight, and then show me the metallic plate she used: on it is a creature that at first glance looks like a eastern dragon, a snake body with a horned horse head and insect-like wings. It's six limbs are strangely human, and it's warped on itself in a mess of wings and coils. I barely have to see it before she puts my legs out of the water, my head going under and my exposed skin erupting in goose-bumps. I push my head out, spultering, as she pushes two similar plates against my inner thighs, close to my panties. She tells me I'm wearing Lilith's hands* now, and when she takes out the plates I can see that I've got two very intricate design of hands tatooed on my skin in back ink, left hand on right thigh, right hand on left thigh. It's slightly innerving; it looks like the right hand has a eye embedded in it, and as if someone is pushing my legs appart.

*Lilith is supposed to be the mother of monsters, and I birthed a snake in a previous dream. I don't know if it's linked, but it's there.

Some dreams are like old, abandonned cemetary; old bones laying under the soil, mostly forgotten but lingering still.

I am in the old house, with my family. My sister and father are cooking, the table is dressed in the kitchen. Their part of it is bathen is a golden glow, but it fade before reaching my mother and me. Nobody seem to notice, and they bring the food to the table, and everyone get a hearty helpful of pan roasted potatoes and bacon bits. It smells wonderful, my family is joking around and laughting, but I can't. Deep down, this feels sublty wrong, like I'm seeing everything through a deforming glass. The food taste good, but my stomach is tight. I feel cold and remote, I want to leave.

I wonder how many time my subconscious is going to dig up the ghost of my childhood and the corpse of my parent's marriage.

Had a long, confused dreams about a debilitating sickness slowly crippling me. Don't feel like writing about it here, but making the entry to keep both my private and public DJ consistent.