Ghosts that bleed and humans that don’t
September 10th, 2008 by Jenny Crimp; no comments
Laura and I sneak into the home of a family we know in order to search for something and investigate some suspicious circumstances we have noticed. The people who live in the house may be related to us.
It is a really beautiful old house with brick pillars and reddish wood floors. We look in each of the rooms, making a circle quickly through the house, but too scared of getting caught to be very thorough. Then as we turn to leave from the kitchen the big gray cat that in reality lives next to Kris but in this dream lives in this house runs in from outside and through a crack where two walls are supposed to meet. I turn around and push one open…
There is a room in the exact center of the house that we missed because all of the chimneys from the surrounding rooms back up to its walls. This is what we expected to find, but it’s much worse now that we’ve seen it. There is a bed in the center of the room with restraining straps. This is where the missing child was kept.
Something happens then, there is a fight with a ghost and when I cut it with a knife it bleeds, but it is okay because it was already dead. Then as we try to leave, the people we really fear come in through the wall. They are two girls roughly my age. The kind that are really into being pretty. They come at me with an axe. I grab it, but my limbs are moving through water, I’m so weak that I have to swing it several times before I make contact with the girl as she just stands there looking amused. I slice through her shoulder a few times, agonizingly slowly, but where she should be spurting blood there is just gray underneath her skin.
“You’re not human anymore?” I ask.
“Did you think we would still be?” She replies, still coldly amused.
It’s all plastic underneath.
In the end Laura and I just walked out. Once we figured out we couldn’t beat them they just gave up.
this is a dream about airplanes
September 6th, 2008 by Kris Skotheim; no comments
I am with my uncle Brent. He promised that we could go flying in one of his airplanes sometime, so we head out to his hanger one afternoon. He has two planes: one is a tiny, single-engine two-seater dwarfed by his second, a gigantic, twin jet engine luxury corporate/military fighter beast. I point at the bigger of the two, “So … can we fly that one?” He looks kind of stressed out, but agrees.
On the runway we are joined by a large group of airport tourists who want to learn about flying. They climb in, filling every spare inch in the cabin. The tour guide is flying the plane. We take off and do some gentle turns, then he demonstrates what it is like to crash by pointing the nose straight towards the ground. We careen helplessly for a few minutes, the ground rushing at us at hundreds of miles per hour. When the nose is only a few inches above the ground he pulls back on the controls and guides us safely back into the air.
I worry that, with so many passengers and such a large plane, Brent will have a very large fuel bill before the end of the day.
this is a dream about Lizzie
September 6th, 2008 by Kris Skotheim; no comments
I am with Lizzie. “I’m sorry that I’ve been dreaming about you so much,” I apologize, “I really don’t know why that is. I guess it’s kind of weird.”
“Yeah. It is.” She looks really weirded out.
Sketchy Explosion
September 2nd, 2008 by Jenny Crimp; no comments
My dad, Rebecca, Roderick, and a few other friends and acquaintances are gathered in a large fancy building that is perhaps a showroom for space ships, but apparently there are also scientific experiments going on, because one goes wrong, and without warning we are all caught in an explosion of something like time and space. After being knocked to the ground in a cartwheel, and a few moments of disarray, I find myself intact, and look around to see everyone else standing up and brushing themselves off. I ask each person of they are all right, but when I turn to Rod he just swings around in confusion. We shout at him and wave our arms, but he can neither see nor hear us. He can shout though. We all stand there wondering what to do, and finally I grab his hand. He asks questions, and I answer by squeezing his hand once for “yes” and twice for “no”. He knows which number corresponds to which response because he has also seen The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. It’s incredibly frustrating to have such a one-sided conversation, because we need to tell him the explosion may have been contaminated, and he may never recover, or possibly develop some strange disease. For the time being we take turns leading him around with little or no explanation as to what is going on.
Apparently Rebecca, Rod and I had plans to go para sailing, and we have decided not to cancel even with Rod’s condition, so I run around my parents’ house frantically packing everything I could possibly need for a six-month trek through a temperate rain forest (even though we are just getting a ride down to the Seattle waterfront). I almost forget to put on my bathing suit, but Rod reminds me at the last minute (apparently he is regaining his vision or something).
Down at the dock, I decide to abandon all of my unnecessary luggage, ever though I might actually need it because it’s freezing cold and dangerously windy.
Instead of actually going para sailing, we end up looking for something in a rather empty hospital with faded posters on the walls. Rod has recovered completely.