orangeillusions

(Note: I am one of those people that could be staring Hitler in the face with a gun and still not be able to fire, so dreaming about being a serial killer is really a bit creepy to me. Especially since, in the dream, I felt a joy in the killing and a kind of righteousness.)

I was a man named Charles Soderberg. I had a brother or a father, I can't remember named David Soderberg. The dream was long but I can't remember it all. I was in some kind of school building that was like an old building in Seattle. It was I think a time when I wasn't supposed to be there, like late at night. I think it might have been a college campus building, I don't know. I had charcoal in my left hand and a gun in my right. Apparently I drew with my left in the dream (In real life I'm right handed.) There was some kind of meeting happening, and I snuck in and shot a bunch of the people in the meeting. Not everyone, as I was specific about who I wanted to kill. There was a security guard with a gun who chased me but I managed to sneak out. I ran down the hall to an area where I had the choice between two separate stairwells and an elevator. I pushed the elevator button and the doors took some time to open. Finally they did, and I stepped in just as someone walked down the hall and went through the door of one of the stairwells.

Fearing that he would show up about the same time as the elevator would on the bottom floor I got out of the elevator and as quietly as possible took the other stairwell. I found that it passed a door that went outside, and I almost missed it. I went outside, and I was feeling elated at making it outside unnoticed. I probably drew something on the door.

I don't remember details about the next part of the dream, only a lot of running around with charcoal in my hand, trying to hide and not be noticed but still drawing all over everything. I don't even know what I was drawing, faces I think, possibly somewhat realistic.

I was finally in a park, and somehow I recognized it. It was either a park or a cemetery. I was suddenly not Charles anymore, I was me, but i still had the charcoal in my hand. I saw my boyfriend's dog run up to me, and I was really happy to see him but really concerned that I was wanted and would put them in danger. I stayed there though. That's all I remember.


(Out of curiosity I did a google search. There is an artist online named David Soderberg. Maybe my subconscious remembers seeing his work or something, because the work even looks similar.)