Saturday, January 15, 2011

Dream Journal Entry

So I'm in what looks and feels like a summer camp of some sort.  It seems like it's family day or something cause my parents and sister are there and I'm under the impression there's a lot of evaluating going on.  I feel judged, perhaps too harshly. Everyone's age appropriate.

There are few other patients at the summer camp, I notice as my sister and I wonder off to explore on our own.  Patients?  Guess this isn't a summer camp after all.  Insane asylum more like it.  I'm sat down on a single wooden chair in front of this projector and screen set up with a beautiful sunset(rise?) overlooking a crystal blue lake.  Purples and deep reds and fiery oranges are bouncing from the reflection in the lapping water.  The white still screen seemed creepy surround by such a perfect scene in nature.

There's a doctor or a therapist to my left, standing slightly behind.  I can see his long lab coat, it's bottoms almost hitting the green grass below.  I notice the dream is a series of point of view shots cut with watching the scene playing out before me with myself as one of the actors.

My parents are further behind me, looking completely devastated, like they'd just been told they're son was dying.  My sister is further away sitting calmly on a big rock nearby.  Uninvolved in the situation but still watching and listening. 

Slides clicked into view.  Each a picture of me at different stages in my life.  Each picture filled with demons and ghosts and angels, unseen to the naked eye, but somehow made visible from whatever secret plane they came from through the projector, are surrounding me, or pointing leeringly at me.  It was obvious the bad, ugly ones wanted to do me harm.  Holding bloody, bony fingers with the skin oozing and melting off towards me as to point me out to the others holding pitch forks and knives and all kinds of not fun looking toys they meant to do me harm with. 

In a picture of me, no older than 3, taken at my birthday party, none of the many children and parents surrounding me as i blew out the candles of whatever cartoon cake I had at the time, seemed to notice the group of perhaps three hazy bluish-green ghosts huddled behind me whispering my secrets to one another, their faded, almost invisible features glaring disapprovingly.

In another, I'm in my early teens, already handsome and popular.  I'm standing infront of some building trying my best to look as nonchalant and cool as possible.  Nonchalant is pretty difficult when one has no control over an eyebrow that arches involuntarily at the flash of a camera and a smile that's more pucker.  Also nonchalant should have been made even harder from the boarder of rotting limbs and decomposing body chunks almost framing the top of the picture and coming down like two ribbons on either side of me and then floated back up just above my head like a grotesque halo.

But there were also one's with angels floating and playing around me almost like I was being watched and protected as I opened christmas presents as a child.  There's one of Jesus standing behind me, his arms outstretched from his sides like he was invoking good and channeling it through me, golden glow humming around my unknowing likeness.

The doctor/therapist drones on continuosly.  Stating things that were pertinent to the slides, to the pictures, to the explanation of what was happening but I couldn't understand any of it.  He was saying words I knew, just the combinations and usage where unintelligable. 

I either woke up at that moment or I can't remember anything more.


With my grandfather's recent death and the sudden barging in of my father back in my life along with the new sense of family everyone has been trying to embrace I wonder if I'm invoking the inner turmoil and angst I felt as a child.  Like I'm reverting to a time that's safer and my parent's were still together and my grandparent's were still alive.  I'm getting that impression from the times and places in my life caught by the pictures.

I'm thinking the demons and ghost vs the angels and saints in the various pictures being projected on the slide show represents fears and questions I have in myself about religion, good and evil, my soul.  I can't help noticing the age I would have been in the picture with the birthday cake and the ghosts who seemed to know my secrets and were judging me for it.  Is it possible to have such bad done to someone that it infects their souls.  Like something so bad happens to someone that it just taints a part of them.  Makes it evil? 

In my childish explorations of the dark and occult, I mean, who hasn't playing with a ouiga board when they were young, I learned my lessons enough to not mess with that sort of thing any more but I can't help but remember that time at my old apartment and I had a group of close friends over for dinner and we somehow got into a conversation about religion.  I was on the side I usually am against organized religion believing it's more of a cult and a defense mechanism and addiction replacement for the weak.  I even had people jumping ship and disagreeing with me. Then my friend called me out.  "Why are you so angry?"  And I sat back and it was like a hot wave washed over me and I felt embarrassed.  She even pointed out that my face changed.  Like I was looking and using my features in ways I normally wouldn't.  I didn't know why I was fighting so angrily for my point.  I even remembered thinking to myself, "what the fuck are you talking about?" as I heard myself arguing the points.

Also, when a good friend's mother was loosing her battle with cancer a group of us went down to visit our friend in the hospital and even joined in with her hippie friend in a prayer circle.  The thoughts and things that were going through my head the moment we held hands are started praying were disgusting and terrifying.  I couldn't stop them as much as I tried.  They were sick and they scared me but there they were in my head.  I physically felt dizzy while we were in the circle.  When my friend's mother died, I couldn't bring myself to go to the funeral.  A mistake to this day I regret and feel permanently affected our friendship.  I had similar thoughts standing in the hospital room when my grandfather died.

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