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A Dream of Mine

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2797 dean-martin-145067

Unfortunately, I have been cursed throughout my life with only very vivid, and meaningful dreams. You might ask why this is unfortunate, but my answer would be because I can't ever seem to interpret the meaning of a dream until it is too late.

For example, I dreamt of the collapse of The World Trade Center. In said dream, there were two structures, each assembled out of the flags of each country, seemingly every single one.

Around the structures there were stick people, of almost every color, seemingly oblivious to me and my extraordinary stature in comparison to their microscopic size.

I could not move despite feeling like I could, and found myself trapped. Then, out of almost nowhere came a pitch black ball, almost hard to see because it was so void of color, that destroyed one tower. The people began to cry and mourn for what had been lost.

Then, another ball, just as black came and wiped out the second. As opposed to weeping, the people became irate and longed to seek revenge. They started fighting, killing, ripping entrails out of their stick bodies. It was sick. At any rate, that is how these dreams are, very vague and almost impossible to decode, until the event occurs.

This story isn't about my previous dream endeavors, but about the one I had last night. Let me start off by saying I smoked a lot of weed yesterday, but only because it aides in the repression of my intense anxiety problems. When I toke, I like to crank up the Dean Martin. It almost feels as if I float in the air, like a piece of paper falling when I am in the presence of his magnificent tunes. I smoked some crazy stuff, and it knocked me out like a light.

It begins here.

I could still hear, vaguely but definitely, a soft non-vocal version of "Memories Are Made Of This." Lights around me began to flicker to the rhythm of the instrumental, and in flickering changed colors, colors that seemed to get more and more vibrant as the song progressed.

I could taste the music, and it tasted like a delicious honeysuckle picked fresh in the wake of spring. As my senses erupted with stimulation I began to contemplate existence, but not before I realized the setting. I was on an island, floating among nothing but flickering colorful lights and sensational big-- band.

The island was roughly four feet by four feet. I sat in the middle, on a chair that seemed to belong in a school, somehow unafraid of falling off the island. The floor my chair was on was constructed of crude concrete, and etched in, probably by a pick and hammer of some sort, was a two word two number set. It read:

"Remember This 03."

I did, then I sat up and continued to enjoy the beautiful show around me. I woke up with a smile on my face, feeling warm like I used to as a child before Christmas. I was still sleepy, but my stomach was not. It growled like a grizzly bear mother that had her cubs torn from her. I got up and somehow managed to call dominoes in my daze. I figured a large pizza would be enough for a couple hours, and with that I in essence told my stomach to be patient; it listened. I laid back down, with a waiting-to-be-satiated stomach, and closed my eyes. The music had stopped. I didn't remember turning it off, but probably didn't want to anyway.

I opened my eyes again, looking down at a floor. It was the same crude concrete that I saw before, but it had something different etched into it. It read:

"Remember This 12."

I began to feel odd after a time of staring at the writing, probably noticing the lack of music and alternating lights. I looked up. Instead of the friendly, open atmosphere I had been blessed with before, I was in a room with a single bulb looming above my head. The whole room was constructed of the same crude concrete that the floor was, and there was a very ominous feel about the place. The scariest part was that there was no door. I got up, and looked around.

Upon my banging on the walls, I noticed that they were thick beyond possible estimation. The only thing I could focus on was the bulb, looking as if it would fall at any second. It did. It fell in slow motion, and every inch that it got closer to the ground my heart got progressively more full of an intense dread. It hit with a beyond audible shatter, and I woke up. The doorbell rang, and I lifted my head from its nurturing pillow. I had a pounding headache.

It felt like a hammer continuously tapped the inside of my head, getting harder and harder with each tap, until it became an all-out strike. I collected my money, and staggered my way to the door. There stood the adolescent delivery boy, looking at me impatiently, with the look that a DARE officer would give me. A "I know what you've been doing" look. He had no idea. I paid him, got my pizza, and walked back into my house to eat myself into food-induced coma. After finishing the entire pie, I laid back down, disgusted with myself.

I opened my eyes for the last time. I couldn't move my arms, my legs, or my head. Instead of the school- like chair that I sat in before, this one felt as if it were made out of the concrete that the previous room was made out of, though it bound me to it via thick leather straps. A man walked in the only door in the room, which was thick and made of iron. He wore a black cloak, and his identity was impossible to discover. He walked beside me, not uttering a word, and pressed a button. The room became dim, even though I could not see any light source to begin with, and I saw the classic "3... 2... 1..." that you would see on an old timey film reel, projected onto the wall at which I was pointed toward. After the countdown I saw the sequence in the projection.

"Remember This 13"

It quickly turned off. The room brightened back up, so much in fact that it offended my sense of sight. The man in the black cloak was still behind me, and I could hear him dabbling in water, doing God knows what. I sat, frantically awaiting my unknown fate, scared out of my wits.

Suddenly, I felt water being squeezed out of what I later found out to be a sponge onto my head. I then felt the sponge being laid on top of my head. I then felt some sort of head equipment being strapped onto my head, and then a complete silence. I then heard something that is still unnerving at this point. I heard someone behind me, I assume the man in the black cloak, say in a very gruff voice, "I'm doing you a favor." Then I felt it. Every inch of my body burned and tingled and I began to convulse until I felt the life leaving me. I closed my eyes and hoped it would end soon. I awoke after that with a bloody nose.

Everything in my house was messed up and turned upside down. I still to this day cannot decode the meaning of the dream.

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