I had a dream of violence last night. These particular dreams are pretty rare and hard to come by so i’m taking the time to record it.
I was with a large party and we were en route to a festival. I recognized no one but my little brother and Nicholas Cage dressed as a cowbody, and several young-looking women and men. On our way to the festival, we stopped to rest for the night at this lavish mansion with a thousand rooms and chambers. The mansion was very modern in design, and had splendid interior decorating that seemed to incorporate a vast array of cultural furnishings and artworks. I broke off from the rest of the group to go claim my room. I took one of the hallways and found a shower room. Hot water like rain fell from the ceiling, and no matter where you went you were covered in it. Attached to the shower room was a bedroom with water running down the walls and a peaceful sound of running water filling one’s ears. I could hear commotion coming from the main lobby of the mansion and dressed myself to go check it out. Everyone was in an uproar because a member of our troupe had been killed. The group split into parties and began searching the mansion for the killer.
I returned to my hallway. There were several doors lining the hallway on either side, and i opened each one of them to reveal a closet. In the first closet i came to there was a young black man with an enraged look on his face sitting on the floor beneath the hung clothes. He clutched a dead rat in his hand, and several other dead rats surrounded him. “Stupid fucking rats!” he spat as he threw the rat in his hand against the wall. I kneeled down and put my hands on his shoulders. “Listen buddy,” I said, “i don’t know if i want to stop you or help you.” And a malicious grin came to my face, and my eyes grew wide.
The young black man seemed to calm down now that he had a conspirator. At that very moment a blonde girl passed in front of the closet and caught us in the act of discussing our plans. We killed her, and hid her in another closet. I learned through the young black man that this mansion had the ability to feign illusions and make real the appearance of ghosts and other frightening things. “Keep them distracted,” he said. I went off to rejoin the party, leaving my cohort in the safety of the closet. I lured a tall asian man back to our hallway and killed him out right by beating him to death, then stuffed him in a closet as well. The young black man was beginning to lose his nerve, he felt we couldn’t control the situation long enough, and he didn’t know why he was killing in the first place. I seized him by the shoulders again and shook him and told him that this was what he wanted. This was revenge. It was his right to get even with these blubbering fools. He seemed to absorb my ferocity, and flung himself from the safety of the closet and ran out into the main lobby. He announced himself the killer, and yelled like a madman for the survivors to come and get him.
The young black man ran back into the hallway and looked around for me, so that we could fight them off together. But I was nowhere to be found, for by now i was one with the walls of the hallway. I watched as the other members of the troupe tore into the hallway, pursued the young black man, and beat him viciously to death. All the while i watched from within the walls.
Then i woke up.
Now all i have to figure out is if the young black man and I were the same person, or I was the sole murderer and he was merely a scapegoat caught in the chaos of it all.
Either way, quite unsettling.
