So.  I’ve always had very, very vivid dreams. Bright, saturated colors, fine details, and an urgent immediacy to all the events, smells, sights, tastes, and the physical & emotional feelings.  Say I am dreaming that I’m on fire? I smell the smoke, choke, lungs screaming, have trouble breathing; feel the flames, my skin crisping and curling, cracking and splitting. I can smell myself cooking, feel the blood boiling under my skin, taste the ashes, every nerve shrieking, feel my throat breaking on my screams. Bathed in terror, searing heat. And time seems to slow. I have an extremely perverse and strong imagination.

Last night, I had one of my recurring nightmares. You know how when you’re dreaming sometimes you can’t see someone’s face, but you know exactly who they are? In this dream the beginning’s always the same… my ‘boyfriend’ meets me at my house,  it’s summer, I live out in the country, no close neighbors,  I’m sunbathing when he gets there… and then things are different every time I have the dream.  Sometimes we fight, sometimes not. Sometimes we sneak off and make love, sometimes not.  But at some point… he starts trying to kill me. Sometimes violently, sometimes quietly. Once he poisoned my drink, once he skinned me alive and left me to bleed to death. I have this dream 3-4 times a month. No set schedule… sometimes 3 days running,  sometimes a week or more in between instances. The one constant, the one thing that never changes? I never live. Sometimes I manage to kill him as I’m dying, but I never kill him and live.

Had that dream last night…  I died particularly violently this time. He slipped something in my drink that knocked me out and when I woke up, he had me tied up and proceeded to torture me for what seemed like forever.  Just laughing the whole time.  Knives, pinchers, red hot pokers, every clichéd little torture weapon there is out there. And when I quit screaming for him… he burned me alive.

And as if my psyche hadn’t felt I was tortured enough last night… Then I had a dream that everyone in my life that I cared about… family, friends, lovers, kids literally every one; had been taken, taken and stashed away in this weird religious enclave. And I had to make it through this twisted, torturous, maze of a temple to save them. Which is *not* a dream I’ve had before… but was very very frightening, frustrating, and I failed.  I failed to save them, and got to watch as they died… a few choice people pulled out of the crowd and killed individually. Then the rest, and the bodies of the ones already dead.. blown up in the temple.

I think it’s entirely possible my mind hates me.