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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Since the death of Heath Ledger, I have had a dream of him every night. This dream was the most disturbing, the hardest for me to wake from, the most emotionally draining. I felt it was something to be shared.

Submitted: February 02, 2008

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Submitted: February 02, 2008



Note: This is a rough sketch to get the chronology and fact down. I intend to go back and insert more detailed aspects of the dream. However, I will not alter what my subconscious gave me for the benefit of literature. This is uninhibited me.... my soul, the deepest part of me that even I do not understand.



I was in a house of vicious girls, dressed in oriental garb doing a theatre style challenge with a blanket and I notice someone wandering about with this hood on. I leave the mess of girls and wander myself and see that this person is Heath. He beckons me over to him and tells me that he really needs to speak with me but then the girls attack and I try to tell him to come back later but I can't see him anymore.

Then, I have to bathe, which involves climbing up ridiculously high and then sliding down a thin piece of ceramic into a tub. Highly dangerous, I almost fall out of the tub and to my death. I see a mat from the tub fall out but never see it hit, it just disappears. Somehow, I am now in a room, a bedroom that I share. Through a tiny peek in a curtain I see Heath standing in this lobby. He notices me and beckons me again, this time his hood is down.

I go to him and on the way, I bite down and in doing so two of my teeth fall out, and one chips in half so i spit them out. I try to say something to Heath but I can't from all the blood in my mouth. He takes my teeth in his hands and hugs me and whispers that he'll get help. I try to beg him not to go, but I cannot speak from all the blood.

Now the girls come out, all with towels on their heads, and stare at me, blood spouting from my mouth, my hands unable to contain it. They all surround me and begin pulling my mouth open, trying to see in, savagely desperate to see the wound. I try to tell them it is none of their business, that they are making it worse, hurting me more...

One blond girl, toweless, proclaims she will get help and I try to tell her no. I try to tell her I have to wait for Heath but a brigade of paramedics arrive. One of them has some strange black and yellow striped device that he wants to place around my nose and mouth. I fight him off because I know I will not be able to breathe and he tells me that is just what I need.

I turn and run and see Heath walking in again. The hoodie is gone and he is now in a shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his hair no longer hat hair, but those cute little curls. Before I make it to him the device stretches out and reaches my face and over takes me. The last thing I see is Heath opening his hands, my teeth falling out. I think he was crying.

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