hi there!
There's a certain phrase that for some time reached the weight of a sentence in my life, when this boy told me -he thought I was misjudging and making assumptions about him because of some confidences he told to me- a very loaded and prejudiced: "I'm not that one of your dreams!" (I had also confided him my thoughts and dreams about "us"); and curiously he repeated this at least a couple of times again, when he felt accused. As Tony points out on many posts and answers, of course it's almost obvious when we talk about a dream we aren't assuming -or at least we don't do it on purpose- that we can somewhat foretell what a person would do, even worse their
hidden agendas. But for some reason this person began to feel kind of menaced with the possibility of being exposed by the things revealed when we talked about our dreams, even though I wasn't by any means attempting to predict neither his behaviour nor the future, which was absurd and unreasonable he could be dubious about (it was far easier for me to go and ask in real life to the people who knew him and I could have guessed a lot more; that was the strange thing about the paranoia he displayed). It reached the point of serious confrontations and he finally went away when things became monstruous in reality (things he couldn't explain but made evident he was hiding injurious stuff), saying he was scared (of things he had done first, using them at the beginning of the relationship to approach me and to get my confidence). So I'm persisting on referring to this because I've been trying to find peace about the issue, and some days ago you interpreted a dream in a way that showed me that maybe there was a reason for this boy to feel uneasy after all, because of course not mine, but his own dreams had been telling a lot about what was him all about. I mean, now I know a dream can clearly say a lot about a person, and he didn't take them so seriously until it came the day he saw maybe he had told "too much". And it nevertheless should be unvelied if there's something to taking notice of. So here's a second and final dream he told and I'm extremely interested on it because it seems to have revealed long before things happened, the way he was dealing with some issues he never wanted to talk about when he left. If you could please give me a hand with this, It'd be awesome!
"Fishing (GREEN)
September 15
It involved a beach, a harbor, maybe it was one of those cities crossed by a river, like Manhattan, maybe. It's like a competition under the Brooklyn bridge, a race without a cause. There are two boats in the water trying to catch a huge fish. Two strong sailors, conventional, the Popeye type of heavy hand are in one of the boats. In the other it was me with a faceless female companion, that kept unknown the whole time; everything pointed out that I had a relationship with her, or that was what I understood. The contest started. The fish was so strong that tugged both of the boats, it was a real Hercules, the Jack LaLanne of fishes. Nature imposed itself; the fish had gripped the two baits and was carrying us at its mercy, it was almost nothing what anyone could do facing the colossal animal.
The girl tried to harpooning it while the men in the other boat tried to shoot it, but any attempt was in vain, nothing and no one could resist it. When all of us had given up and the only thing left was to waiting for the worse to come, the incredible speed with which the fish had driven us until then began to gradually diminishing. The fish was getting slowly exhausted and eventually it seemet not having any direction at all. We, also tired, let ourselves be drifted away with no resistance by the fish'es weird behaviour. We didn't know what had happened but the beast ended up crashing against a dock. Everyone got off the boats, to picking up the fish, we all wanted to know what kind of animal had defeated all of our efforts. I myself brought it out the water and we were all surprised by seeing it wasn't as monstrous as we had thought. It was an ordinary fish, a tuna, it was big yes, but not huge as it seemed. All of us were somewhat disappointed, some way we wanted to think it could possibly be a fish the size of a whale or so. I had already gotten back into my boat and everyone was getting ready to depart from there, to try their luck some other place, with no remorses, when one of them noticed that the animal still moved its eyes, only the eyes. It looked scared and about to die, or maybe just confused and bewildered by the blow. All of them watched at it with disdain, with no emotion at all, without feeling a bit moved by those eyes looking around trying to find some answer to its cruel situation. I left the boat and cut its tail with a big knife. Not showing any sign of pain, without a feeling of being attacked on it, I kept slaughtering the fish, drunk with a sudden delirium, by the bliss of seeing that body being divided into big slices. The fish didn't seem conscious of what was going on, its eyes weren't altered facing the butchery, they just stared above, to that greyish sky, dirty blue as of a laundry room, no sun, just clouds, only smooth clouds surrounding us to the horizon. That was the colour of anything, our clothes, the boats, our faces, the water, the city, the harbor. The only thing that seemed to have a life there were those startled eyes, those eyes that were slowly extinguishing. In the end the reason for such ravage was sharing, so no one said a thing while I did it, all of them seemed to be at one with the necessary act of violence I was commiting. The slices were distributed, the head was thrown into the water, with its yet unquiet eyes, we shook hands, and the day went on, nearing its end. The girl and I entered a door across the harbor where we striked. It was a sort of infirmary, a rare hospital ward with no patients, not any waiting. Two nurses attended us inmediately: she was taken to a common surgery, nothing to remark, and it was then when I saw her for the last time, that woman with whom I had no connection at all. I kissed her goodbye, the door closed after her and I went walking escorted by the other nurse to another surgery. The place had the appearance of a minimalist maze, with vast corridors which seemed not having an end and pale greenish walls that didn't reach a ceiling to their height, everything got lost up there in an odd dimness. After a long walk through an aisle with a huge picture window which allowed the grey light of day in, we arrived to a closed room, lit by a yellow bulb that permeated the room with an even more unpleasant green. The nurse asked me the routine questions and some others in relation to a trip; apparently we were undergoing some health control tests so they could be sure we wouldn't travel with some rare disease. In a moment all seemed to be darkening, the light bulb dimmed its energy in a to-ing and fro-ing of electricity, and the nurse asked me to get up and to standing in front of the stretcher. Yes, a prostate examination, painless, impersonal as it may be. The nurse concluded it and I went out from there, with no sensation of humanity at all, neither the feeling of a breaching, not any suggestion of corporality. I went back by the picture window's aisle and everything was tainted by that green. Outside there was a beacon which beamed a white light amid a night still not fully dark; a dusk seeped of a green light. Green only. Everything green.
the windEste
Opening (eatingmyfingers)
September 25
This is the video, one of my late childhood memories; now, in recalling this, I remember it was such the horror that game made me feel that the only thing that could soothe my phobia was praying until I fell asleep. And the more my brother played that game the more I prayed. Oddly enough, even though I had a fatal panic everytime he came and turned the game on, at the same time I wanted to see, I eagerly wished to be frightened. Ha! some time after that it followed the women clippings. How crazy. Now I see it somewhat ridiculous, that japanese terror that turns out to be a bit naive, but nevertheless carries me away to a lot of moments from the past... Now I understand why in my dreams characters look so digital. Sometimes so false that they are disconcerting. And it comes to mind the yesterday's dream, this time in that short form of a nightmare: I was eating my fingers, cutting them with my teeth and furiously tearing them off from my hands, barely to the distal phalanx, with the insane hope of having them grown again, renewed. In a moment the dream came into conflict with reality, as if it was getting very close to an experiential notion that caused me to believe the thing taking place in that world was transferring from that dimension into this. I checked my fingers out carefully when I woke up and I kept repeating to myself: NO, fingers can't grow back.
Yes, this dream I had last night. And mother has just told me the one she had: she said that my brother arrived and touched her back and she, somewhat frightened, and also annoyed, said to him: Hey, don't scare me Lin, you are dead. We laughed about it, I don't know why, because it was a dream I suppose, nothing else. And she pointed out to this picture I have in my room, and said that was the way he touched her, as in this image:"