Current location:	The Flat, Southampton, UK
Current mood:	cheerful
Current music:	Repo! The Genetic Opera- OST

Dreams


Had a fascinating dream last night, featuring no less than four famous, talented people, blood and trickery, violence and harm, healing and resurrection, pity, forgiveness, reconciliation, love, a very clear sensation of being held and holding others close, memory loss and regaining, and a final meeting up a tall clock tower of someone who never gave up on me.

I passed through two, possibly three different scenarios. One person needed assurance, another needed to feel connected: I assured, I connected them, but there was no external detail to these except that we were all staying in the same house together. These two are in the same band and are married: it was as if they were having crises of personal belief and I was the buffer against which they found their feet again. One I think saw their marriage end with more equinimity than before. The other went back and gave his another go.

The third turned out to be beautiful but a cruel trickster with potentially fatal ‘gags’. They are also a member of the same band as those above. I awoke to find myself in a bunk (of a bunk bed) below them, covered in sweets and biscuits, but this was apparently bad: it meant I had been hurt somehow, or was about to, and I was; stabbed in some way not very clear to me. I did not die: I healed. I remember thinking; beautiful hands, cruel tricks. But the trick turned on them when I stabbed them in retaliation, and that leached the poison of evil thoughts from them. I held them and comforted them as they healed, and they moved on by. They wanted me to come with them, but I had somewhere else to go.

The last person was an a very well-known actor, especially here in the UK. They grew to love me, but I was scared by something, fled and was killed by a bad fall. They never gave up, using an aspect of their creative work to resurrect me (it was weird: because the idea worked in a plot line they managed to use that to justify using some sort of power or ability to help me in the same way. As if they used the plotline as a tool to control the energies surrounding my injuries and death and reverse them), and then their friends (co-stars) approached me- this newly-brought-back, scared and confused person- and helped me to remember a little and find clothes to cover my nakedness.
But when I saw the person themselves approach, I fled again, and hid; animal-scared. I slowly remembered more of what I should remember, and made myself go and find him, this benevolent presence. I saw him lying asleep, exhausted, on a bench in a pub up the top of this very wide clock tower-thing. I climbed all the stairs to get there; made an effort of pilgramage! I shook him awake and he was overjoyed, but a little wary to approach me in case I took fear and fled again. I stood rooted to the spot, and, delighted, he threw his arms around me. Then I remembered fully who I was, who he was, what he had done, how much it had cost him- he looked so tired and needed me to start over again- and I hugged him back. We were reunited.
I woke up before we kissed, dagnabbit!

I checked out online dream dictionaries. Naturally they were no help at all and more confusing than ever... but I was left with a feeling of satisfaction, of adventure overcome, of not wanting to wake up because the dreams were intense and exciting!

One of these days someone will invent a way of recording dream images; I’d make a mint on mine!