DarkestDarkness

24th January 2021

Fragment:

(at the end of a long segment about family)

Uncle M mentions "Bucaccus"; it is apparently some kind of organ, gland or hormone? He apparently had many issues with it when he was my age and suggested I get it looked at. I remember previously in the dream I had been having some kind of tantrum, throwing things. I apologised to my uncle and someone else there, an old woman?

Fragment:

Waiting for a train in a subway station. I'm wearing one of those new and modern drawing gloves on my right hand. I'm writing some kind of story on the palm of that glove on my right hand. I don't make notice of the fact that I was using my left hand to do so.

The train eventually arrives and I get in; then when I get out somewhere else, I find that my little story has rubbed off completely and is gone and I try to remember what I had written.

Fragment:

Looking at some profiles on an art site. One of these profiles has thirteen thousand people who are basically subscribed to it. Part of the page seems odd and the dominant layout colour is incorrect to what it should be in waking life, it's a deep blue in the dream.

As I scroll down I find extra sections, like multiple featured text posts with commenting areas of their own. There's also some section labelled "high-profile banned/blacklisted users". I look through this section, which only has a dozen of usernames, and find that some usernames start similar to mine but mine isn't on the list, I feel some sort of relief?

This person's profile has a lot of issues with spamming?

Fragment:

I'm in my old home, my room. I'm visiting. I am upset for some reason? And then there's some kind of hybrid species woman; she's part octopus and she's sad for some reason. Her mom is here too and has the same features, but her mom has a blue tinge and she has a pink-ish tinge.

In any case, I try to comfort her, but she is resistant to any comfort I try to offer. I remember at one point we touch one another a bit, half sensually, half not, like a strange dance? I am curious about the tentacles and she lets me touch them. This implies some trust on her part, I feel.

The suckers nip on my skin but much less harshly than I expected; I feel that she has control over this and has made it so as to not hurt me.

Her mother says something about how she could just cut off her tentacles if she's that sad (comes across as half-serious/half-sarcastic) and that they'll grow back. Her mother warns her however, that it will take months to regrow them and that during sleep she'll be waking up to what feels like every five minutes and bleeding or something.

I tell her that she should do no such thing. I feel the mother's suggestion was too serious and that it would cause so much more damage than good.

---

Notes:

- The last fragment feels strangely ironic considering how I am feeling right now about something.
- The tentacles had ends that were more squid-like than octopus-like, come to think of it.
- I think it's been a while now since I dreamt of any subways or trains. It had also been a while since I dreamt about a website, specifically an art one.