Last night, here in St.Petersburg, FL, there was a thunderstorm. I vaguely recall waking sometime around 3 A.M. and pulling the covers up a bit more in that, "Yay, it's raining" type of way. I usually enjoy sleeping while it's raining and my fan is humming; I'm not sure why but I am sure that I am not alone in that feeling.
Unfortunately for me, I think waking up and trying to go back to sleep resulted in some crazy dreams. Some people like to think dreams have meaning, and by all means I would love to hear what your thoughts are about these dreams. But perhaps these dreams were just my subconscious berating me for failing to make it to 20,000 words in my novel. I fell just short at 18,500.
Damn you Call of Duty, Black Ops.
So my dreams:
The first one was weird but not nearly as weird as the second. I was walking down a long black tunnel. I could hear a constant drip of water coming from somewhere. Drip, drip, drip. At the end of the tunnel was a big wooden door. It had one of those cartoon-large key holes and I thought I saw an eye looking at me through the hole. So I ran down the tunnel. For some reason I knew that I had to get to the door and prevent whoever or whatever was on the other side from getting through that door. Drip, drip, drip.
Only as I ran, I realized that the tunnel was elongating or I was on a treadmill. In either case, the door wasn't getting any closer. Drip, Drip, Drip.
I could see the door handle slowly turn. Heart racing, I lunged forward confident the door was moving further away. Only suddenly, I slammed into it. I grabbed the door handle and it tugged inward. I planted my feet on either side of the door frame and pulled back. The door pulled open an inch and then I shut it again. Someone was trying like hell to get to me and by God I was not about to let them. Open. Close. Open.Close.
It went on like this until I got up to go pee.
I laid down and tried to get back to sleep. 8 A.M. and work was fast approaching. As I dozed off, I found myself in some rural flatland in a house and waking up. I knew the situation wasn't right because the back half of the house was gone, as if someone had taken a saw and opened it up like a can opener.
Out back, through the opened half of the house there was a crowd of your typical rural folk, in dreams anyway. They had overalls, cowboy hats, boots. More like the Swamp People from New Orleans than rural folk now that I think about it. But at the time I was pretty sure I was in the country some place. Each group of two or so had a car on huge truck sized wheels. If you were to put a cigar car on monster truck wheels, that is what we are talking about.
Somehow, they convinced me to go for a ride with them. I get in the car and two sets of people take off speeding down the road. I remember clutching the seats as we rumbled along and ran over a stop sign. I closed my eyes and heard a loud metal crash. There was a lot of smoke caused from the car in front of us and as we cleared it we saw an old lady on her back, a walker laying on the ground, and a hole through a glass window that over looked a railroad junction. For some reason we all thought it hilarious the old lady had lost her walker.
Immediately we knew that the car had jumped the rail and we squealed to a stop and jumped out. Looking over the rail we saw the car on its big wheels, drive along the track and go into a tunnel. Only then a train smacked into it and sent a crumpled heap of metal backing out of the tunnel and flying to the side of the track.
This is where it gets weird.
Somehow I know the Swamp People in that car are brothers. One gets pulled from the wreckage clutching his arm and he's in tears. I mean Niagara Falls type tears. The police pull something out of the car and we are all angling to see what they pull from the mangled mass of metal.
It's a human head. Oh my god. Its a frigging human head. And the cops don't care. They throw the head up a set of stairs where brother one is crying his eyes out and they toss it to him and he catches it like a basketball. He holds the head by the hair and looks at it and his mouth widens in amazement and horror. What the fuck am I dreaming?
Slowly he turns the head around and the mouth starts moving like its talking. The crowd roars in laughter. Sick crowd. Then they pull the second brother from the wreckage and he runs up the stairs and hugs his brother number one. But what the hell, whose head was that then?
Then the brothers start laughing. Maniacal laughter. Laughing so hard they are crying. It hits me. It was all a practical joke. My own brain played a practical joke on my subconscious. What the fuck? What is wrong with you brain? Don't you know thats sick?
Not. Funny. At. ALL.