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This is a recurring nightmare I've had since before I could walk. I wake screaming from it, or wake from it and have to run to throw up. A few times I've woken screaming from it and hurt myself becuase I am not fully cognizant yet.



Maybe if I type this shit out it'll help me sort it out a bit.



It starts out, where I am in a small cottage. I am a midwife, an herb woman, and alone. There is a commotion from the forest outside my cottage, and the preacher and the people from the town come, trampling my gardens, and they drag me out of my cottage, throwing mud and rocks at me, breaking my teeth and skin.



They bind my arms to a pole or branch, like a thick broom-stick, and march me into the village, a mile or so, all the while hurling insults and imprecations and rocks and mud and eventually refuse at me. There is a pole set straight up in the middle of the square or what passes for one, and they tie me to it and put brush and wood around me, still throwing things, and I am screaming at them that they don't understand, and they light the fire.



My hair goes first.



I can smell it, and then my clothing catches and I can feel my lungs burning from the hot air as I try and scream, and I feel my eyes pop and sizzle down my skin, and my skin crisping and the fat sizzling from my cracked skin.



I feel this a long time before my chest hurts too terribly bad to even try and draw breath to scream.



I feel it a long time.

My dream last night; Khayman was there again.



There were a shitload of people walking over a dead landscape, lots of bikers, freaks, cast-offs, etc., and she and I were at the forefront. There was this one huge man who was guarding us. HUGE man, like 7 feet tall of huge, huge fucking man. He had shoulders like a damn bull. Really. And beard and hair both down to his waist, both braided, reddish, wearing biker leathers.



We eventually got to this open field, and there were brown dead stalks everywhere, cutting our bare feet a bit and poking. Rudy, the guarding man, started crying. Khayman and I each tied up one of our arms and started making fists and releasing, you know, to make blood gather, and he cut our arms deeply.



Khayman and I put our arms together, and the mingled blood dripped down our elbows onto the dead field and green started spreading. We were both wearing Mayday flower rings in our hair, but the flowers were dead; when we started to bleed, they plumped up fresh, smelling strong and they bled too.



This man, Rudy, kept crying, huge shoulders shaking, beard wet with tears, because he knew he couldn't guard us from this choice. It was ... unsettling. He did want the land restored but he didn’t want us to die by both his hand and our choice. I remember the three of us being linked in some fashion, brain cell like, and Khayman and I were at peace, but sorrowing for Rudy's inability to accept with peace the thing that had to be done.



Everything faded to grey as the blood loss mounted, and I woke.

I was having a weird dream.



I know, I know, I always have weird dreams, but they're usually interesting to me in one form or another,



This one was ... boring and it seemed like it would never end!



I have never been so happy to be rudely woken from sleep by something like my front door slamming open from the wind as I was this morning.



The dream:



Tom Cruise was explaining the ins and outs of Scientology and telling me why, in excruciating detail, he was the middling fish in the chocolate milk sea.



...



I was almost bored to tears.



Thank you wind gusts of 50 mph. Thank you.

I dreamt I gave head to a complete stranger and he tasted terminally ill.



And I woke myself up crying from cramps.

Khayman and I were leaving some mall by a weird escalator system that wasn't steps but moving ramps. REALLY dynamic movement there. It was fun, and then we were heading to the tour bus our class (?) was using. There were 4 scary men on it with a few unlucky students telling them everyone would die if ... something, I forget what, wasn't done.



THEN Khay and I ran sneakily along the side of the building our tour bus had become, along with this quarterback who was IN his football uniform until we got inside a sewing and something factory and proceeded to try and cobble together something of a coasting device to go for help.



Ok.



This was largely unsuccessful, as headboards and ironing boards and flat-legged tables do not coast. We even had to bribe someone to get one of the headboards.



Yah.



It will never become a Bruce Willis movie.



I know. It gets better.



I had, apparently, been in a running commentary with some snippy operator about a broken down car. She kept calling me back to see if *anyone* was going to come fix it, my car that is. At the age of fourteen. O_O



But, FINALLY a large truck shows up with a surplus of washers and dryers. This made sense in the dream. It does not now. They were to replace something that had broken for this rock band (yes, there was a rock band somewhere; no idea where), and FINALLY one of us (not the quarterback, he probably left to do something SENSIBLE, LONG before the headboard fiasco), finally Khayman does SOMETHING sensible.



She hops in the driver's seat of the truck that has a trailer full of washers and dryers, starts it, and I barely have time to hop on the runner and hold on before she's off like a shot, and we are, finally, going for help.



Why I never mentioned this fact that we needed help to the operator, I have no idea.



Oh! Just before Khay steals the truck, I FINALLY did something sensible. I have convinced the operator to send a taxi to the restaurant I can see, because the coasting devices did not coast. The restaurant was called "East Otis Eats Deli." I had a terrible time saying this in the dream. I hadn't had a chance to tell Khay this before she stole the truck.



We're tooling along the highway, and IMMEDIATELY there are police pursuers. The trailer disappears, and her comment is, "My inheritance has now cost my parents about a million dollars tonight."



She manages to snake off on a ramp and the policemen waved at us and point. The ramp ... ENDS. It's a construction area. I finally tell her about the taxi and we climb down, reverse the coats we are now wearing, and go to the Deli to wait for the taxi, which shortly appears.



Then I woke.



WEIRD.

Hooookay.



Any of you who've read far enough back in the history of my bizarre maunderings know that I am subject to nightmares, usually recurring.



I've had a new one, and, well, I don't like it any better than the others.



I dreamed I was pregnant. 6 weeks along (oddly enough, Khay, eh?) as a matter of fact. I found out I was pregnant by accident. I'd had my period, etc., and as soon as I found I was pregnant I could feel the fetus settle in in a hard painful lump very high up in my uterus.



I have scarring inside my uterus that 99.99% of the time will prevent a fetus from attaching, let alone survive to term. Just as a side note.



I could look down at it, and it's little face and hands were pushing out hard enough to leave impressions on my skin!



I was convinced in this dream that the pregnancy would go to term, but that I'd die of it.



I was terrified of what was growing in me.



In my dream, the child was fathered (no memories of the fathering process, damn it, that could have been fun) by a friend of mine who is married. This was never brought up in conversation in the dream. It was a secret thing.



I woke very disgruntled and rather alarmed.



I hope this one doesn't repeat.