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I had a dream.
Unlike most of my dreams, this one was pretty creepy. The content was rather silly in retrospect, but it felt pretty awful while I was dreaming it, so this may more or less be my first real nightmare in quite a few years.
All my nightmares sound silly after I wake up. The worst nightmare I ever had, when I was something like seven or eight years old, was about a poster in a similar style to those "proper reactions in an emergency" posters with instructions about CPR (at least the ones we have in Iceland), but it told the story of a little girl who once read an advertisement in the paper saying, "Fake medicines can be bought in the pharmacy now." Even though it just said "fake medicines" (or rather, the Icelandic equivalent of the phrase), the idea was that these were toys that were supposed to be used on dolls and plush toys. The girl had this doll she really loved and immediately wanted these doll medicines so that she could play doctor, and got some. She gave her doll too much of them, and it was basically destroyed - somehow the toy medicines managed to tear it up and make it look more like a bundle of vaguely humanshaped, dirty rags than a doll. It ended with me seeing the girl somewhere carrying the doll under her arm, being interviewed and saying she shouldn't have done it but she did and that was that.
It does not sound it, but that dream was freaking scary. The background, of course, is what really matters here, and it is that I had a stuffed tiger that I'd gotten from my grandma once and carried him around everywhere (to school, too) under my arm, just like that girl was carrying her doll at the end. I was always extremely paranoid of something happening to him, him getting lost, me dropping him somewhere, or whatever, and I had repeated dreams in which he had somehow gotten replaced with a fake one that I recognized by various minor differences from the real one. The scary thing about this dream was not just the grotesqueness of the doll's slow mutilation through the use of the seemingly innocent toy medicines, but also to a large extent the girl at the end, who had simply come to accept that she had destroyed her doll. I was horrified by the idea that I might ever not only lose my tiger or destroy him somehow, but later simply accept it and stop caring. That girl, who not only destroyed her doll but didn't even really care afterwards, was the most horrible person in the world in my mind - and yet she dared to carry her doll (I never played with actual dolls, which may be a part in this) under her arm just like I carried my tiger. I hated that girl who managed to be so terribly careless, but she was still me, and that was what made it so horrifying that it remains the worst nightmare I've ever had. I've never in my life woken up as terrified as then.
The dream I had now, however, was pretty awful in its own right, and it was probably mostly my older age and the quick realization that it was only a dream which made it less scary. This is mostly because despite its rather silly main subject matter, the atmosphere of the dream was more or less that of when I was in eighth and ninth grade, except magnified: everybody hated me and treated me like dirt, and I had no idea why. The only support of any sort I had in the dream was my boyfriend, and in the beginning of the dream we were sitting together in my room, but then he more or less vanished for the rest of the dream.
Now, when I was in ninth grade or so, it occurred a couple of times that some kids thought it would be extremely funny to stand outside my window and watch me on the computer. This surfaced at school in some stupid stories about my nonexistent pink pajamas and supposed love for mathematical video games for preschool children, but I also caught them in the act at least once when some girl in the group attracted my attention to the window by giggling more loudly than she had intended.
In the dream, again, this was magnified: the actual nightmare began with me finding random graffiti and anonymous messages proclaiming the immense entertainment value of peeing on my window. I looked into it, found some evidence that this had actually happened in some sticky yellow stuff on the frame, and made a mental note to look at the window every now and then to catch them in the act if they came again.
So I was at the computer doing something (I don't really think the Internet existed, because I sure didn't feel like I had a bunch of online friends to talk to when everybody in real life hated me so much), and suddenly I noticed two kids that I didn't know sneaking up to my window. I immediately jumped up, went over to the window and knocked on it to make it clear I was there watching them and they'd better not try anything funny.
Instead of running away, as I'd hoped, they knocked on the window too and started yelling. I could eventually make out that they were asking me a question, which I think was something in the direction of whether I had been working in the little shop at school at a particular time. (I work there sometimes during gaps in my schedule; note that this is my current school, however, not the school I went to in eighth and ninth grade.) I found the question odd, but answered it honestly (again, I think the question was about whether I'd been working at that time, and if it was I said yes) and opened the window a little so it would be easier to talk to them.
And this is where the dream gets silly: They told me gleefully I was charged with the murder of a boy from my school that I didn't recognize. Supposedly, I had taken an empty coke can and thrown it down a garbage chute, which had then come out of the other end of the chute with enough speed to hit that boy straight in the head and kill him.
Now, I knew perfectly well that I hadn't thrown any empty coke can down that garbage chute, and certainly not with the intention of killing that boy I had never heard of, and said something like, "What? I've never heard about this before." The moment I said it I realized I had said it in an all-too-suspicious manner. There was some judge there too who looked like Morpheus from The Matrix who started asking me some more questions and eventually it was decided that I had to go on trial for the murder of this boy. I was locked up inside my room and was supposed to be put on trial through some sort of intercom system that was suddenly integrated into my closet.
To make a long story short, everything that I said to defend myself had no evidence for it - I kept asking if it was possible that the boy's death had occurred in this or that way, and the answer was always a flat no thanks to some detail of the situation that I simply didn't know - and for some reason I didn't think of mentioning the obvious-as-soon-as-I-woke-up fact that the most I could possibly have been charged with was involuntary manslaughter since I couldn't see the other end of the garbage chute and thus couldn't have known the boy was walking in front of it at just that moment. I realized quickly that while I had been busy serving customers, somebody else had snuck up behind me and dropped the can in there so that I could later be framed for the murder, but all the customers who had witnessed it were in on the conspiracy because they all hated me too and each steadfastly proclaimed that they had seen me throw the can. In general it soon became clear that my situation was hopeless and I was going to lose the case. I woke up before I was ever judged and felt very creeped out by the dream, but only for a couple of seconds. I think I knew it was a dream, actually, because the moment I woke up I was more relieved to be out of it than taking some time to realize it was a dream as I tend to do most of the time when I have vivid dreams.
The thought of being despised by literally everybody is not very comfortable, but even less so when you dream it, believe me. It makes you realize just how damned helpless you'd be if enough people felt like making your life hell.
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antialiasis's journal
frustrated
tired
:D
thoughtful
amused
Still have a cold.
Birthday! :D
Yay for weird dreams.
Need to close my window...