i am feeling fucking triggered today and i don’t know how to make this stop. i am going to smash something.
Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.
“
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Sigmund Freud (via killerwave) holy fuck, Freud. Get out of my head. |
In the first dream, my uncle was back in the hospital. My entire extended family on my dad’s side were staying together in one huge house; I can’t remember if it was supposed to be my dad’s house or my uncle’s, but we were all there. In between visiting my uncle in the hospital, we took turns trying to sleep. But every time I laid down, a voice started speaking to me. No one else could hear it. It was a deep, sultry, Tim Curry-kind of voice, minus the fabulous British accent. It was telling me to come join him in the basement. For a while I dismissed it as sleep-induced delirium, but it persisted so eventually I ventured down to the basement. It was empty save for an old man sitting on an elaborate throne in the corner. He was thin and fragile-looking in body; nothing but skin and bones, sparse tufts of white hair here and there on his mostly bald head. He looked up at me, and it was the first time in my life I could remember experiencing pure, unadulterated terror. He had shark eyes, all pupil and no iris. An evil sneer crept across his face as he extended his bloody arms to me, palm up, and continued to use his razor blade to methodically cut his arms, over and over and over. Blood poured from his forearms, staining his gown and dripping to the floor. He laughed as he held out the razor to me, implying that it was my turn to follow suit. I remember wanting it so badly… The sting, the crimson release… But I turned and left.
There were some unmemorable scenes of conversations with family members, and then the next night the voice was back. I tried to tell someone about it, and they just thought I was crazy. So I took them down to the basement with me, to find that the old man had turned into a ram-headed demon, and that a previous closet in the basement was now a doorway to Hell. For some reason, more family and friends came down into the basement (I think he had started summoning them, too) and a heated argument ensued because the demon-devil-thing wanted to take me to Hell with him. He began decapitating people just by grabbing their hair and ripping their heads off. After about three people had died this way, the rest of us ran back upstairs and tried to ignore the demon. But gradually Hell started to leak through the portal and began taking over the house. For some reason I can’t remember, I agreed to go with him.
At this part the dream changed a little, as dreams often do, but it was still sort of a continuation of the previous dream.
When I got to Hell, the demon was gone and my fiance, who had been absent from the dream up to this point, was suddenly there. And all we were concerned about was having sex. On the hot dirt floor, surrounded by cliffs and pits of fire, in front of the angels and demons who seemed to occupy this place, and at some times with them. Lord Varys from Game of Thrones was there, but he was some kind of angel, and seemed very intent on joining us in our activities, and was most definitely not a eunuch.
I don’t really remember much after that. It was a weird, off-putting, oddly enjoyable dream.
