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#292 - the most evil dream ever, I can't stop crying
08/03/02 @ 6:14 am

Why do my dreams have to be so fucked up? what's wrong with this reality, that I have to dream other ones that are so vivid I can't keep from crying once I wake up?

Things were going fine. Dreaming about a Matrix type situation with Neo going into the Matrix. Duh, right before bed Johnny Mneumonic was on, and the only glimpse I got was of him wearing a helmet to work with the net. Fuck. That's exactly what the dream looked like.

The *last* thing I saw before bed was this horrible anime that was amazingly fucked up in the first 10 minutes, so I stopped watching. But not before taking in this bizarre scene where this guy's mother is some sort of goddess. She rips off her clothes, then her 2-3 inch long nails bite into her abdomen. You see blood start pouring from her. She goes deeper to fetch something out of her womb with those horrible nails ripping more and more. It was fucking gruesome.

Just like the last part of my dream wanted to be.

Husband. things were fine. Husband and this other man were trying to reach across a short distance to a 3rd man on a little tower. A bad man they wanted to stop. They needed to do something to prepare, to make themselves reach farther. They started taking off each other's clothes. They started making out, kissing and licking and caressing each other's naked flesh.

I appeared, horrified. I can't remember what I did or what happened next. Next I remember, we're somewhere else, and he's fully clothed. I ask him in a whisper, "What do you want?" I meant to add "from me?" I wish I had.

He got this furious, meniacal look on his face as he ripped off his tie. "What do I want?!" he shouted, practically gritting his teeth in fury. "I want open source code for Unix. I want something-something computer related. I want something-something-else computer related." He was practically spitting the words in my face now. "And maybe - *MAYBE* - you'll do for now." He said this last as he ripped off his own shirt. He looked horrifying in fury and hatred. The last was meant as maybe my body, my sex will do.

I flipped out in my own rage, and pushed him back, screaming wordlessly. But that wasn't enough. I started ripping at his shirt that was magically back on again. And my fingernails were suddenly just like that woman's in the anime, as I tried to gouge out his flesh from his face, his chest, anything. And I wasn't screaming wordlessly anymore. I was screaming, "Satan! Satan! Evil! Satan! Evil! Satan! Satan! Evil!" Over and over, and I tried to tear, tears streaming down my face.

But I never tore anything. I always seemed to miss. Someone tore me off of him. Cops began to ask questions. I paid no matter. I couldn't stop chanting, and now sobbing. Because that man had just broken my heart so completely, so fiercely, I had called him Satan and Evil and had tried to rip him to shreds to somehow ruin his heart in return.

And I had failed. He was still the evil grinning villain who had once won my heart and deserved it.

Freud would have loved me.

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