Dream.

Dec. 12th, 2002 11:42 am
witchscauldron: (starraven)
[personal profile] witchscauldron
I see that somewhere between this morning and late last night Jason went and made himself [livejournal.com profile] barkman. Welcome to LJ - about damn time. :p





My dreams were very confusing last night. Like cut scenes with no logical segueway.

It's winter twilight, pastels and very pale sun setting on the snow. I'm walking/riding a bike? somewhere. I am heading through small backstreets, and I stop my travels, as it grows darker, because there is a black crumpled object in the middle of the road. As I approach a white dog tries to attack me from behind. I stop, and am standing there, staring at a massive tangled pile of what looks like dead crows and a hundred cast off feathers, in someone's driveway. A woman comes out of the house - she looks Native - and looks at me. I ask if I can collect some of the feathers. She shrugs. I move to pick up some feathers from the ground, and all the crows stand up. 3 of them stay and stare at me awhile from strange silver-green eyes, and the rest fly away to roost. Eventually the three leave, too.

The woman goes back inside her house. I start to collect feathers, but start finding huge turkey feathers in the pile, too. I go inside the house to tell the woman, for whatever reason, she has turkey feathers outside. She says "So those are turkey, eh?" and just shrugs again. Her house is cluttered, and I wander it a bit, before going back outside to head home. I see more feathers caught in a tangle of cord under a table in her yard - they start as crow, but turn to owl, and hawk feathers. Confused, I put them all away somewhere, and I leave to go home. A sensation of heading downhill into darkness.

Next, I am...somewhere very unfamiliar. Like one of those Soviet cities, widely-laid out and tall in the deep snowy wilderness, nothing for miles but this city you could march Mechs through. I am talking to a man I don't know, who has a very very small red car. It goes very fast. He tells me to climb in, and I toss my pack full of feathers into the backseat and we drive like maniacs. There is noone else on the road. he drops me off in front of the gates of a huge park, like Jackson Park, and leaves.

Here it cuts to where I am returning home - I have forgotten my keys in the apartment, and we are living back in the big white new apartment from my last dream. It apparently is in the Charlotte Towers, on the 14th floor. I follow a man into the building, who lets me upstairs. There is a ferocious wind outside. I meet Jason on the elevator, who takes my pack and we head back up. I push to get off on the 7th floor, tho, rather than the 14th - he tells me "Remember? That's not us anymore" and we go up to the right floor. Outside our doorway in the hall is a huge pile of Freezies in flavours like apple, peach, grape, and whatnot - I grab them and put them in the house as the scene fades.

Then I am on the doorstep of a house. The sun is bright, there is still snow all around us. A nice, cozy little home - the stairs right by the front door, and a table set up for company. Inside are three children - one almost an adult, a teenager, and one around 7. Their parents are coming to visit. They seem terrified. I am looking through the house for things I can eat - they all seem to have sugar in them. It's frustrating. The parents arrive - the two oldest ones are raidating this aura of hurt and mistrust and fear. The youngest child wants to love them, but the other two are telling him he can't trust them. They left. The parents, for their part, are rude, smarmy, and attempt to charm (rather poorly) anyone they talk to into believing they're perfect. They leave, and come back with carved pumpkins and a bowl of pumpkin for dinner. O_o They attempt to jam a huge pillar candle into a tiny little jack o' lantern, but give up when it's obvious it won't fit.

As we sit at the table, everone's aura becomes very obvious. 5 or 6 other people have joined us, all young people. It is very surreal, sitting there, seeing everyone's auras - the children are brown and green, sickly, the parents sinister in purple and black. My own is hidden. The father complains about people treating the front yeard of the house as if it's part of the park it's tucked behind, because the fence doesn't form a proper border. I get up to go to the kitchen, on the pretense of looking for my special juice. O_o I chew on a pineapple candy and come back, where the mother yells at me to stop eating candy and sit down and draw a tarot card. Everyone else draws a card - they aren't normal cards, but things like "The Unhappy Lover", or "The Hanged Butler".

Everything suddently seems twisted - the walls of the house turn darker, the sun is gone, and everyone looks like a pale Edward Gorey version of themselves. I won't draw a card. The mother growls and draws one for me - it is the Six of Cups, the Robin Wood deck, but there are no flowers in the cups - instead there are dark-haired children, the larger pouring a cup full of water turning to blood on the smaller. I sigh, and say that isn't my card - I draw instead the Queen of Swords. This card, though, is from no deck I've ever seen - it is a red-haired woman floating in the midst of a swirl of red-black fabric, cradling a large leaf-bladed sword as if it were a child of hers, a look of sardonic joy on her face. Her right hand clutches the blade so hard it bleeds. There are images in the four corners, tiny, detailed, and dark, but I don't recognize the symbols there.

After I draw the card I rise and walk to the door by the kitchen - the back half of the house that looks over tangled bush and a steeply falling stream-bed. The house seems very Victorian, faded and grey, lit with flame rather than electricity. I look out the window, and see a black dog waiting for me - the same dog that attempted to attack me when I was moving towards the crow earlier.

I awake.


So yeah. Sleep is supposed to be restful, but I always wake up with way too much imagery to chew on. But hey - I'm sure it makes for interesting reading.
-m.
One day you’ll walk the world
and keep in mind
The heart you’ve been given
in winter time
And through the bitter cold,
with opened eyes
You’ll find the strength to fight
and stand upright