Talking in our sleep . . .
May. 25th, 2005 03:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doodlemaierI had one of those very bizarre dreams this morning where you're absolutely paralyzed, you can see around you and you're almost awake, but very certainly still dreaming.
. . . Or, at least trying to speak with my voice to the figure hunched in the corner with their back to me, sobbing (is that you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
danknugs?). Previously I had warned you about not doing whatever it was that lead to your eyes being extracted from your head (residuals from the episode of Angel I watched with H the night before.) 'Don't go with (t)him', I had said. But, of course, you did. And now you're present in my bedroom, but only as a ghost because (t)he(y) killed you as I warned you (t)he(y) would. I can see H lying next to me and the two doorways that are our bathroom and closet. I try again to speak in my voice but the paralysis. My voice cracks painfully and I seem to find another voice; this one far more eloquent, older and more natural to me. We're arguing (naturally) about nothing important now that the damage is done; but I do blame you for the fact that I can't move a muscle except for my eyes, after all, you're a ghost. And it seems there is always some entity that is present with me when I'm paralyzed in dreams. In dreams? You trick me into believing that the doorways are from my childhood home on Medford, the peeling paint reveals the exact blue they were then. You want me to believe that we are actually there, but it' because you have something to tell me. But I'm being condescending and won't listen until you release me from the paralysis. I feel that you need my energy to remain corporeal and I withhold it. You blink in and out of existence and call me an asshole and then I'm certain that it's you!
The very second I can move I roll over on my side opposite you, and sleep. Later in the morning all is exactly as it was in the dream, H, the doorways (regular colors, though) and the stack of clothes waiting to be put away, from which you (or I) borrowed your form. H promises that I wasn't talking in my 'sleep'.
You came with a warning of your own
. . . Or, at least trying to speak with my voice to the figure hunched in the corner with their back to me, sobbing (is that you,
danknugs?). Previously I had warned you about not doing whatever it was that lead to your eyes being extracted from your head (residuals from the episode of Angel I watched with H the night before.) 'Don't go with (t)him', I had said. But, of course, you did. And now you're present in my bedroom, but only as a ghost because (t)he(y) killed you as I warned you (t)he(y) would. I can see H lying next to me and the two doorways that are our bathroom and closet. I try again to speak in my voice but the paralysis. My voice cracks painfully and I seem to find another voice; this one far more eloquent, older and more natural to me. We're arguing (naturally) about nothing important now that the damage is done; but I do blame you for the fact that I can't move a muscle except for my eyes, after all, you're a ghost. And it seems there is always some entity that is present with me when I'm paralyzed in dreams. In dreams? You trick me into believing that the doorways are from my childhood home on Medford, the peeling paint reveals the exact blue they were then. You want me to believe that we are actually there, but it' because you have something to tell me. But I'm being condescending and won't listen until you release me from the paralysis. I feel that you need my energy to remain corporeal and I withhold it. You blink in and out of existence and call me an asshole and then I'm certain that it's you!The very second I can move I roll over on my side opposite you, and sleep. Later in the morning all is exactly as it was in the dream, H, the doorways (regular colors, though) and the stack of clothes waiting to be put away, from which you (or I) borrowed your form. H promises that I wasn't talking in my 'sleep'.
You came with a warning of your own
