"I hope that I never see that face, ever, outside of a dream.”
i dreamt that i tripped and fell over at school and someone recorded it. they posted it online and it went viral. one guy went and sold the story to a trashy clickbait site named "sick sheep." he made up this embarassing backstory about me being a mama's boy and for some reason he said that i'm shorter and fatter than i actually am. in the article they referred to me with my male name and used he/him pronouns, but the kids at school that were spreading the video around called me a "she" in a mocking manner. i told my parents about what was happening but they were busy watching tv and they didn't listen to me.
i dreamt that i was staying at a hotel during halloween with a couple of my friends. at the front desk there was this old bald guy who was crying and i started hugging him for some reason. he dragged me into a closet where he proceeded to transform into a good-looking, sharply dressed guy with slicked-back black hair. he told me how sexy i was and then he pinned me down and was basically trying to rape me but i got away. after escaping from the near-buggering i ran away to a room where ABD and one of his friends were waiting. they showed me this drawing of a hippo eating the universe, and they showed some comedy movie from the 80s that wasn't funny (i don't remember the plot at all). i tried to speak but my voice sounded really high-pitched and girly so i stopped.
i dreamt that i was at some sort of party/gathering at my cousin's house in New York. but it wasn't her house, and these people weren't my relatives. or at least, they didn't look like my relatives. they were supposed to be my relatives in the dream, and i accepted them as such (dream logic and whatnot) but once i woke up i realized that none of these guests were familiar faces.
anyways, me and a girl with mousy brown hair (who was supposed to be my cousin) were standing near the doorway, by a staircase. a missionary rang our doorbell, and we let her in. she was like a normal missionary, except she was Muslim instead of Christian for some reason. we were in the middle of talking to her when i heard this sickening thump/crack. i turned around to see that a woman, presumably one of the guests and a relative of mine, had hung herself from the staircase.
the next day, or possibly a few days later, i got an idea to invoke the dead woman's spirit through some kind of ritual. i went into the bathroom and turned out all the lights. the strange thing is, it's Jewish tradition to cover up all the mirrors in the house after someone dies*, but for some reason the bathroom mirror was left uncovered. i stared into it, and out of the darkness emerged an aged letter suspended in midair, like i was looking into an inky black pool and some sunken treasure had just floated to the surface. i don't remember the contents of the letter - just that it was writted in French (which i don't speak) and started with the words "Je suis." a voice read the letter aloud to me - not the voice of the dead woman, but that of the brunette girl, my cousin.
ever since i first learned what the word meant, i've had an almost pathological obssession with death. i've been suicidal for almost half of my life. i spent years meticulously planning my death, fantasizing about it. by the age of 14, i had probably thought about death more than the average person will their entire life. but for all my pathetic teenaged "cries for help", the hundreds of scars that litter my body, the hours i've spent pouring over true crime cases and suicides, i still haven't fully comprehended it.
there's an Edgar Allan Poe story where a group of rich nobles host a masquerade ball in seven rooms of their abbey as a plague ravages outside, when a mysterious figure arrives, wearing a blood-stained funeral shroud and a corpse mask, and makes his way through each of the rooms, killing all of the guests. i feel like this story is more relevant now than ever. the elites tell us to "stay the fuck home" and wear a flimsy paper mask as if that will somehow protect us, while they hold lavish parties with no safety measures in the comfort of their own homes. but death will catch up to them, like it catches up to everyone. you always think this is something that happens to other people, not you. never you. and then it does.
i've been feeling strange, to say the least, since i had that dream. i feel like a dark, malevolant presence has physically entered my home. it has attached itself to me. i feel cold even though the heat is on. i haven't been scared of the dark of mirrors since i was a little kid, but now i am. i'm afraid to sleep. now i have looked death in the eye, and i don't want to do it again.
*why the fuck is that anyways? do they think the ghost is going to pop out of the mirror and drag them to hell, Bloody Mary style? it's shit like this that makes me understand why whites seem to think that Jews are creepy dick-mutilating Occultists.
i dreamt that i was in hell. i don’t remember how or why i went to hell in the first place, but i remember i was escorted there by some sort of psychopomp, who took the form of a lanky, pale guy with greasy black hair and a crooked nose. he was wearing a purple velvet suit and top hat. i don't know if anyone here has seen mission hill, but he looked like an irl version of the republican vampire. we rode a carousel to hell.
it wasn’t your typical protestant “fire and brimstone” hell at all, but at the same time, i knew i was in hell. i was living in some sort of industrial glasgow wasteland, there were factories belching out smoke everywhere and even my home resembled a factory.
there was this orange jello or some sort of gelatinous substance that i kept trying to eat, but it kept manifesting itself and reappearing somehow. one day i would find it in the washing machine, the next i found it in the bathtub.
every so often this massive school bus full of kids would just crash into our house, and this was just treated like a regular thing, a nuisance akin to say, your neighbor blasting music at 3:00 in the morning. i remember i turned around and said to my mom “you know, this is like the third time this has happened. don’t you think we should do something about it?.” she just said something like “oh, i have their plate number. don’t worry about it” and then did nothing.
the toilet in my bathroom was some sort of portal - to what, i don’t know. the first time i saw it, when i looked down it was like looking down one of those disgusting porta potties they have at festivals where it’s basically just a hole in the ground, except i was looking into the sewers and i could see the pipes and everything. the second time i looked in the toilet bowl, i could see another bathroom. the last time i looked in it, i could see some guy’s dingy basement. when i would take a piss, he would collect it in a bucket, like you do when there’s a leak in the ceiling. heh. literally taking a leak.
i had a dream where i fell in love with this girl. she was sort of an e-girl/art hoe type, except she was really into the whole nicole dollanganger "lynchian old hollywood/gothic americana/miss havisham" aesthetic. she always wore these lace babydoll dresses that looked like they could've belonged to her grandmother. she was an anorexic, not super emaciated but thin, and she sometimes made fun of me for being "too fat."
anyways, there was this bird outside my house or school (i don't remember which one) who always got up at the same time every morning and started squawking obnoxiously. eventually i decided to take matters into my own (petty) hands and shot the bird. not with an actual gun, mind you, but with some sort of tagging gun. the tags had some sort of insult on them, like "douchebag" or "dickwad" or something, so that everyone who saw the bird would know what a massive cunt it was. some kid from my school (who quite resembled JG from my middle school) saw me doing this and told everyone at my school i was an animal abuser, so me, the girl, and one of her friends got on a train and basically ran away. we ended up stranded in a forest somehow, where we encountered a feral child and his tiger. i killed the tiger. that's when i woke up.
i had 2 dreams last night. the first about this girl who was hire to pose as a corpse for a photograph (i think it was for an album cover. it was black and white). she wore an old-fashioned white nightgown and they did her makeup so that her skin was pale and it looked like her eyes were sunken in. she became obsessed with the idea of being dead and looking like a corpse to the point where she actually buried herself alive, with a bunch of maggots. she treated the maggots like pets, and let them eat her flesh while she was still alive. it wasn't just that, she seemed to get off on it to. it was similar to the "blowfly girl" thing (don't look that up if you haven't already, trust me).
in the second dream, me and my mom were in what looked like a parking garage, except the parking garage seemed to be made of luxury vinyl instead of concrete and steel, and resembled a hospital or a school cafeteria more than a parking garage. there were also "janitors" cleaning the walls with some sort of mop. my mom had a shopping cart, and i was riding in it like i used to do when i was little, except i was totally naked. she was running around frantically, like she was looking for something. we somehow ended up in a secret room within the parking garage. there was a family in there, and the parents were arguing. they had a little girl, and she was crying. i said to my mom "i don't like it here", or something along the lines of that. i don't remember what happened after that.
i dreamt that i was staying in a hotel. in the dream, i had a dream (yes, a dream within a dream) that there were a bunch of large balls of hair in the hallway - literal hairballs. they started rolling down the hallway, except they seemed to defy gravity and they went across the ceiling and walls as well as the floor as they moved. they left colorful trails. when the balls reached the door of my hotel room,they transformed into 5 black men. they were tall, muscular, bald, and completely naked. they broke into my room, running at breakneck speed. they jumped into the bed next to me and started having an orgy/group sex. i screamed, and my dad ran into the room and tackled them. the next day, the same exact scenario happened, except it was in real life and not a dream. after it was over, i told my dad about the dream and i said i think i might have psychic powers. he didn't believe me.
i dreamt that i had a friend, except it was one of those dreams where it wasn’t in first person, and i was observing myself doing things. anyways this friend was either demonically possessed or had a split personality (i don’t remember which one it was) and as time went on, he lost more and more of himself. by the end of the dream he was acting evil pretty much all the time. eventually he flipped out and had his biggest meltdown yet. he started screaming and accusing me of all sorts of things. we were in broad daylight and there were people in the streets. he yelled “i’m going to kill this piece of shit” and started beating me with a crowbar. when he said that, people who were walking down the street came over and joined him. they helped him beat me to death. these were just random people, even a teenage girl and a little boy helped out. by the end of it my face was completely unrecognizable, they literally beat me into a bloody pulp.
the cops were searching for me, and they interviewed my “friend.” they showed him my picture and asked him if he recognized me, he said no. they started describing the autopsy report. apparently the damage was so severe that they thought the murder weapon was an ice pick. then i woke up.
i dreamt that an old friend, one that i haven't seen in years and rarely even think about, visited me. at some point during her visit i went into the bathroom to take a shower. she followed me in and started undressing in front of me. i took this as an invitation, and asked if i could kiss her. suddenly, she got angry at me and acted as if i had done something wrong. she left me alone in the shower.
i dreamt that me and my parents were traveling across the country in a caravan like the romani in search of work. at one point we were working in a yoga studio that also functioned as a sex shop.
i dreamt that I was in a Zoom class and I had the camera on, and i was naked, but i didn’t realize i was naked until it was too late and the class was already over.
i had a dream where i was in middle school again. we were on a field trip, i don’t know where. i was talking to this awkward autistic kid (he was a real person i knew in middle school, i won’t say his name) and all of the sudden he put me in a headlock. just as as i was about to choke to death, he suddenly let go and said calmly “sorry, i have involuntary muscle spasms.”
i dreamt about a boy who conducted a dangerous science experiment in his basement. in a fit of rage, his father killed him and threw his body in the river. but he came back to life.
i dreamt that i was living in a house or possibly a hotel with my family and one or two guys my age or a little older who seemed to hate me. the house was falling apart, wallpaper peeling, etc. in the dream it was night and we were all trying to go to sleep, but we couldn’t sleep.