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mayoraaseiI nearly interchanged "macabre" with "mediocre", which goes to show a lot of things I guess, about me as well as my vocabulary. How I miss thee, halcyon days of HSC English when my mind contained more words of wisdom than scientific synonyms for "fever".
So anyhow, allow me to regale you with another of my morbid dreams, churned out by some secret subconscious entity who, I suspect, has it in its sights to one day write scripts for Quentin Tarantino.
It started on a train, one of those country trains that has narrower carriages and a sort of half-gloom achieved by ageing yellow walls. A middle-aged man is speaking with his wife. His fat cheeks are flushed with alcohol.
He is violent, brutal, and yet, sly. And he had killed a few people. Don't ask me how I knew that, it was a backstory given in the dream. It was clear from the talk that his wife, a skinny thing that had very little presence, had somehow gotten whiff of the bad wind.
It was also clear that he wasn't going to put up with any of this risk, and if the woman lets her tongue run, he would kill her. It would just be one more body.
Here, the train stopped at a station, and I stood up. Let me just interject here that in the beginning I was the third person in the story, but somewhere I began to mix with another persona, and in the end I was an outside observer, and my role was taken by a boy of about fourteen who - for some reason I thought - was the man's son.
Anyhow, the son stood up and grabbed his own bag, and muttered to his parents that he needed to go to toilet and that he would be back really quickly. The man was for the moment concentrating on what to do with his wife, and so he allowed the boy to leave.
The boy ran out of the train and out of the station. About half a block away was a carpark with a taxi bay. He briefly thought about catching public transport but thought the better of it and ran into a taxi. To the female driver he said urgently that she start up the car and leave now, please, or they'll get killed.
At first there was a bit of confusion, but there must have been enough panic in the boy's voice to convince her. As the taxi drives out of the carpark, it passes a van going the other way, and as the boy looks up, his father is sitting in it looking down at him, anger and accusation in his face, a rifle in his arms.
Following that there was a car chase, which wasn't very exciting and was really confusing because the car kept getting wedged into one-way lanes, which is NOT fun when there's a rifle-wielding psychopath bearing down behind you.
The boy rang up the police and asked them to intervene and stop the car, as well as telling them the address of their home so that the police can look for evidence.
Here the story went backwards, and there was a scene of the boy standing in a poorly-furnished room with paper and clothes strewn about in neglect. Amongst the mess was an unremarkable yellow t-shirt stained with patches of blood. There seemed to be other evidence, but the boy knew that if the man found out that the police was coming, he would clean up and hide everything, so the boy wanted to figure out a way of preserving the evidence and telling the police where to find it - but without calling the man's attention.
The boy seemed to consider digging out a floor tile and burying some of the stuff under the floor, but then there was a vivid memory/premonition(?) of the man tapping the floor for any changes in hollowness, and the vicious, victorious laugh as he found where it was being hidden.
...And then I woke up with a pounding headache.
Man. I've dreamt of bombs before but this is the first time I've dreamt of a psychopath =__=|||| Seriously, I haven't been watching anything that'd warrant this!
I think everything worked out okay in the end, but the poor boy seemed so terrified and tragic that someone should give him a hug =(
(I know my dreams tend to be really...ick...a lot of the times. I know my dreams freak my mum out XD But let's just say apart from that little bit in the taxi with the man bearing down on us, the rest wasn't that scary. It was as though one was reading a book that one knew the ending to. There's still tension, wanting to know the way things went, but knowing they'll turn out well.)
So anyhow, allow me to regale you with another of my morbid dreams, churned out by some secret subconscious entity who, I suspect, has it in its sights to one day write scripts for Quentin Tarantino.
It started on a train, one of those country trains that has narrower carriages and a sort of half-gloom achieved by ageing yellow walls. A middle-aged man is speaking with his wife. His fat cheeks are flushed with alcohol.
He is violent, brutal, and yet, sly. And he had killed a few people. Don't ask me how I knew that, it was a backstory given in the dream. It was clear from the talk that his wife, a skinny thing that had very little presence, had somehow gotten whiff of the bad wind.
It was also clear that he wasn't going to put up with any of this risk, and if the woman lets her tongue run, he would kill her. It would just be one more body.
Here, the train stopped at a station, and I stood up. Let me just interject here that in the beginning I was the third person in the story, but somewhere I began to mix with another persona, and in the end I was an outside observer, and my role was taken by a boy of about fourteen who - for some reason I thought - was the man's son.
Anyhow, the son stood up and grabbed his own bag, and muttered to his parents that he needed to go to toilet and that he would be back really quickly. The man was for the moment concentrating on what to do with his wife, and so he allowed the boy to leave.
The boy ran out of the train and out of the station. About half a block away was a carpark with a taxi bay. He briefly thought about catching public transport but thought the better of it and ran into a taxi. To the female driver he said urgently that she start up the car and leave now, please, or they'll get killed.
At first there was a bit of confusion, but there must have been enough panic in the boy's voice to convince her. As the taxi drives out of the carpark, it passes a van going the other way, and as the boy looks up, his father is sitting in it looking down at him, anger and accusation in his face, a rifle in his arms.
Following that there was a car chase, which wasn't very exciting and was really confusing because the car kept getting wedged into one-way lanes, which is NOT fun when there's a rifle-wielding psychopath bearing down behind you.
The boy rang up the police and asked them to intervene and stop the car, as well as telling them the address of their home so that the police can look for evidence.
Here the story went backwards, and there was a scene of the boy standing in a poorly-furnished room with paper and clothes strewn about in neglect. Amongst the mess was an unremarkable yellow t-shirt stained with patches of blood. There seemed to be other evidence, but the boy knew that if the man found out that the police was coming, he would clean up and hide everything, so the boy wanted to figure out a way of preserving the evidence and telling the police where to find it - but without calling the man's attention.
The boy seemed to consider digging out a floor tile and burying some of the stuff under the floor, but then there was a vivid memory/premonition(?) of the man tapping the floor for any changes in hollowness, and the vicious, victorious laugh as he found where it was being hidden.
...And then I woke up with a pounding headache.
Man. I've dreamt of bombs before but this is the first time I've dreamt of a psychopath =__=|||| Seriously, I haven't been watching anything that'd warrant this!
I think everything worked out okay in the end, but the poor boy seemed so terrified and tragic that someone should give him a hug =(
(I know my dreams tend to be really...ick...a lot of the times. I know my dreams freak my mum out XD But let's just say apart from that little bit in the taxi with the man bearing down on us, the rest wasn't that scary. It was as though one was reading a book that one knew the ending to. There's still tension, wanting to know the way things went, but knowing they'll turn out well.)
annie:
Date: 2008-05-20 09:42 am (UTC)and yes i always have odd dreams =.=
aahahaha that relate alot to things but ohwell
urs are like little stories
AHHA
NOVELS
LOLOLOL