Me? I’m a runner.
I’ve been dreaming a lot about being kidnapped, chased, murdered, tortured. And not the fun kinds of any of those.
Not that there’s a “fun kind” of being murdered. But you know what I mean.
I’m not objective about my dreams because occasionally, they’re prophetic. Whether they’re occasionally prophetic because I have some psychic ability, or because everyone gets it right sometimes, I don’t know. And I don’t really care. It is what it is. What I do know is I don’t like that I keep dreaming about these terrible things.
M says things like “See, I’d figure that was some kind of warning. It wouldn’t scare me.”
But it scares me. Because a) My memory’s shot and I don’t always remember that I dreamed about something until it unfolds completely (which makes it difficult to prevent anything bad that happened in my dream) and b) Sometimes, they’re allegorical rather than exact. I mean, not so much so that I’m reaching to connect them. Just enough that I don’t understand them until after whatever I dreamed about happens.
Last night was equally better and worse. I remember three of my dreams. One, though, was utterly bizarre. Or, at least, for me it was a bizarre dream. The only part I remember – the only time I was lucid enough during this dream to remember – was opening my eyes to find the barrel of a .357 Magnum in my face, me yelling “Michelle!”, and then seeing and hearing the gun explode. I don’t even know which Michelle was shooting me, or if they were even shooting me or I was just an innocent bystander. I know at least half a dozen Michelles. And none of them have a reason to want me dead.
Or maybe they do, and I just can’t fathom it. I’m often doing fucked up things and not realizing it until Master says, “Whoa. That was kinda fucked up.” Common sense: I haz none. So, seriously? Feel free to call me on my shit. I know I have a lot of it.
Something else I’m noticing about my dreams, though, is that they all have Master in them now. I mean, I have sex dreams about Him. Everyone has sex dreams about their partner, I’m sure. But my other dreams… The nightmares and the dreams that aren’t sex dreams? They usually don’t have anyone I know in them unless they’re gonna come true. Sometimes, in my dreams, I don’t even know anyone I know in real life. Never have, never will. So that Master is in every single dream I have now, either in presence or in mind (as in, dream me knows Dream Master’s standing in the next dream room, or whatever), is a strange development. Not a bad one! Just not one I understand.
Aww! Master’s the man of my dreams. ~tear~ Read more…