Dreams come and go, but we continue to live. I’m not opposed to strong dreams, although how often I remember them is another story. Last night I succumb to a very lucid dream and here I recount it for you. I acknowledge my sister and I hope she enjoys:
First it began, I was feeling a little devious, heading to bed. I had an urge that I wanted to tickle. Leaving the computer room and heading to the hallway, I grabbed an alarm clock in the process, turning the alarm nob to the appropriate time that I wished to wake up the next morning. I turn into my room, layout similar to that of some duplex my mother and I have stayed in before, but not like her current residence.
I hope into my bed, or some bed with a quilt on it that I sense is the bed I'm supposed to be sleeping in. There is a TV against the wall lined up with the foot of my bed and my nightstand next to me. I set the alarm down, a low, erotic buzz still humming through me. However, I never reached the point of beginning the personal passion that I had been planning in my mind.
The TV was on at the time of my entrance, although I paid it no mind, figuring that it would help with my plans. Yet, again I never made it there. Simply enough to me, I was asleep, the buzz gone and sleepy, inky blackness of the dream realm took my vision. Thinking back on it now, I find myself remembering that the TV was talking about some kind of ruins, some programming that had come on way after my show had ended. Yet, here I was now, passed out and not of my own volition.
When I could see again, my feet, bare, touched cold solid ground; compacted dirt beneath my feet. Around me stood tall, graceful canyon sides of red clay and brown stones. The sight was gorgeous and nearly euphoric on my retinas, almost as if it were too much for a mere mortal to take in at once. A smile grew across my face at the pleasure that I was feeling just by seeing this place.
Soon enough, the pleasure was cut out when I heard a voice. Turning down the canyon, I could see where it tapered off, cutting out in to a clearing or gap of some kind. Light shown through the entrance and cascaded across the stones and clay, portraying wonderful and different arrays of color, dancing across the surface. To me, this felt like a sacred place, one that I should protect from other people, yet at the same time, I felt as if this notion was silly. One, I'm just a mere mortal and will die before I could ever see that day in which I could protect it - and from what would I protect it? Two, how would I even think to protect such a beauty. I mean in half the fight sequences I see, the place of sanctuary usually becomes destroyed anyways.
Sighing, I follow the sound of laughter and scolding, turning the bend and facing the light. Peering out of the opening, I could see my sister Kiti with many dogs around her. I knew these dogs, although I was baffled on how Kiti knew all these dogs. Around her stood Sein, Maximus, Minimus, Kira, Kota, Buddy, and Jasper. Confused, I confronted her, walking a little stiffly up to the dogs as they turned and sniffed me. Some jumped up to give me a human like hug while others just whipped their fat tails again my legs.
Not much conversation went between Kiti and me, but we discussed walking through the canyon again. Together we entered, looking up and down the walls, ahead and behind. The feeling that erupted just from stepping foot and standing in the place were overpowering. There was euphoria, pleasure, woefulness, meloncoly, sickness, happiness, depression, mania, dread, and so many more all pulsating at one time. It felt like a creature was clawing at my throat and my eyes burned with the coming tears, yet there was a light fluffy feeling in my stomach that triggered pure joy. Fear raised the hair on the back of my neck and arms, pleasure slicked my underwear, sickness took my legs so that I was now on my knees before the canyon. Drool dripped down my jaw as I freely let the emotions and feelings swim through my body, ripping and tearing, soothing and repairing. At one point, I sensed that something was wrong, that I wasn't fighting it like I should be, but no sooner had I realized this was the realization swept away in an instant and replaced with a different feeling, a different emotion; a distraction.
Finally, I clutched my chest, blinking eyes capturing the canyon in a bleary landscape. Kiti grabbed my shoulder, her breath coming a little quickly to her. She had felt it too. I'm unsure if the sensation of it all gave the same positive rush to her as it did to me, even the less satisfying feelings that had been swimming around in there. However, I could see a little thread of pain through the panting expression on her face. "Something is wrong." I blinked at her words, sad to hear them and angry with myself to think that she might be right. The dogs began barking, turning our attention to what lay just ahead of us. The dogs stood at an opening in the canyon wall. It was low, cutting across the base of the canyon. The hollow section was low and deep, looking in on pitch black space. From where we stood, Kiti and I couldn't see the back wall of what seem to be a simple dug out portion. The dogs stopped barking, standing still. Their weariness rolled off of them like it was perfume, filling our human noses. The scent soon changed and it was one that was not hard to recognize: fear.
First Max and Moose backed away, the others following suit, running back in the direction that we came. Hightailing it out of there, we ran as fast as we could, given the exhaustion from our earlier endeavor. Kiti and I burst through the mouth of the canyon feeling like we were being regurgitated and spit out of a giant’s stomach. We stood there panting, some of the dogs walking to patches of shade to lay down, others giving up on standing right there next the canyon wall, laying down and gasping for air as if they were still running for their lives.
It didn't take long for us to calm down, although still a little winded and definitely wiped out from the run. Again, we began to explore, staying out in the open this time and sticking to the immediate area. The canyon wall stretched for a long distance, bending and folding just like the passage. Right outside the mouth, there is a little hut-styled structure with clay walls and straw intricately woven together for a roof. A small shade stood next to the doorway, the only thing creating any kind of distance between the canyon opening and the hut. On the other side of the hut were these large, smooth boulders that were shaped a little strangely, and so large that it sat on the ground but reached over the roof of the hut. The large boulder sloped up, convexed to the natural sphere of the boulder and looked worn away over time. It seemed outrageous to assume that a large person or being had slowly worn it away as if it were a broken in chair or something. Shrugging it off, I moved on.
Walking past the boulder, I curved with the canyon wall, coming around a bend. Looking up the wall, the red clay seemed dull and uninteresting, not like it was inside the actual canyon passage. Looking down, I saw another little alcove dug into the side of the wall. Instantly, fear struck through me like it were in the passage, but this time I wasn't struck with all the emotions and feelings so I could actually think clearly. I bent down Looking into the darkness, getting a sense that it was really deep and that I didn't want to climb in there to find out where it ends. Pulling back, I could sense a ruckus by the canyon mouth again. As I ran back around the bend, I could hear the dogs running out of the mouth of the canyon. What in the world were they doing back in that place? As the dogs headed around the hut, I reached the boulder. I hoped up on the boulder trying to get some distance from whatever they were running from. Had they never heard that curiosity killed the cat?!
Kira, Buddy, and Jasper tried to climb the enormous rock with me, but their feet wouldn't hold fast on the smooth surface. Soon they slowed in their struggles and gave up on trying scaling the boulder. Even I could only haphazardly stand in the main slope and grab a hold on the top of the rock, not sure what I was hoping, feeling kind of like the person who tries and disguises themselves as a lamp shade during hide and seek.
Suddenly, Kiti screams from the entrance, words like "No, stop!" and "Please." In a flurry, I jumped down, the dogs following me, I ran to the side of the hut wondering if she were being hurt. As I lurched past the tree, I heard her spout, "Let go of him!" At first all I could see past the red rocks were a toil of bodies. Eventually, the bodies began to roll apart. First came Kiti and she was followed by Kota. They stopped next to me, Kiti beginning to sit up. I rushed to Kota, leaning over him. Looking up, I see this large cat, about the size of a medium dog, stalking towards us, all eyes on Kota. From the corner of my eye, I recognized and processed that Kota wasn't moving and anger took me.
A snarl lurched from my throat as my body lurched towards the cat. Swinging my hand upwards, hand cupped, I back-handed him against his throat, catching him off guard with all his concentration on Kota. However, he recovered quickly, leaning into my hand that I placed around his throat. Using me as a leaning post he swung his paw up, claws out, aiming for my face. The adrenaline helped with my speed as I pulled my unoccupied hand up to block him, making it in the nick of time to grab his paw. Claws dug into my palm as my arm was taken by his momentum and forced the smack me across the face. While his body was rocked forward from the momentum, I didn’t miss my chance to score an advantage and pushed forward, rocking him back onto his back. I straddled his upper belly, legs curling around his to hold down his back legs and make sure he didn’t claw my back into red ribbons. Unfortunately, I soon became aware of how weak I was against this wild cat. This position took all of my concentration, muscle and weight to hold one paw down with one hand and the other paw with my elbow as my other hand grasped the bottom of his jaw and forced it back.
Glaring down at the cat beneath me I had a minor sense that I was doing it all wrong. My inner cat riled up inside me, seeing that I’m supposed to be stalking my prey before jumping on his back, breaking his neck in one foul swoop. However, the human logic explained to me that with my human body I could not accomplish such a maneuver and that I needed to attack the softer part of the body while putting me in a position that would lessen the level of injuries sustained. I smashed my face to his throat, moving my head side-to-side, digging for tendons, sinews and an artery. Unfortunately, I my human comprehension hadn’t calculated in the fact that the cat had evolved to the state to counter this attack. As I dug through his skin, I found I could only scrap the tissues underneath. I’m sure to him he felt like he was getting a deep throat massage, well, if he factored out the intense need to kill him. My jaw grew weary and sore from the exercise it was receiving.
The cat bucked, writhing underneath me for escape. I tried to stay on, but my body had grown exhausted and cramped. Throwing himself to the side, the cat rolled me off of him, rolling to his feet and running to the safety of the canyon. Looking at him leaving, I couldn’t help but to feel enraged. ‘Stupid, weak, meager human.’ These words tore through my mind like a branding iron, searing these words into my brain. And I couldn’t stop the rage, bubbling up through my body, anger tearing at my limbs. I needed this kill. Whether for vengeance or personal matters, I didn’t know why, I just needed the kill.
Before the cat could much further, I leapt from my place on the ground, swooping down on the cats back. At this point, I hadn’t noticed the claws extending from my fingers or that my vision had a twinge of red to it. My claws sliced into the cats shoulders, pinning it to the ground. All too suddenly, my mouth was over the neck of my prey, canines extended, piercing flesh and tissue. Blood washed into my mouth as if I bit a balloon and it popped, gushing thick, red liquid into my mouth and onto my face. I didn’t stop though, tearing deeper into the flesh. Sinews popped and I knew I was getting closer to the spine. The cat below my yowled, crying from the pain inflicted on him. My heart sang and I became very aware of the sensation. My human side wanted to gag, the crying and the blood; I could feel tears hot at the corner of my eyes. Unfortunately for the cat, it was too late. I had already given myself – no matter how involuntarily - over to my rage.
My hands peeled back from the cat’s shoulders. My mind began to race: What kind of cat is this anyways? Do I even know what I’m trying to kill? Is it some kind of hybrid; I’ve never seen these kinds of markings on a cat this size. By its teeth, I can tell that it is mature, at least 3 years old, meaning that it was full grown. ‘Stupid human. Dirty. Filthy. Human.’ The words burned through me again, a headache beginning to form.
Bone crunched under my teeth and my goal was done. The cat fell limp beneath me; dead. Coughing, I pulled my mouth back. Sweet, succulent air seized my lungs, oxygen devouring my headache and air deprivation. Looking down at the animal beneath me, caressing the soft fur under my hands, long claws sifting the fur and creating lines, I felt a strange compassion for this beast as my hands felt as if they were drawing across ancient silk. A hot tear dug a path down my face, dripping off the base of my cheek to land on the gorgeous gold, black, and white fur below. It was odd though, this feeling. The rage came, and it was still there. I could feel it just under the surface. I knew it wasn’t done yet, just sitting there – almost as if it might be resting. That sounded horrific, even to my ears, but I just couldn’t think of any other way to describe it. Somewhere in me, I knew that if I didn’t handle this discreetly and in a manner that would allow the rage to feed and not hurt any more people, this was the best way.
That familiar bubbly feeling wafted up, making my arms feel light as muscles bulged. My face turned into a snarl, grizzly sounds coming from my mouth. I dug my claws into the hind quarters of the cat, picking him up off the ground. Spinning, I hurled my body around, swinging the cat into the wall of the red clay. Smack. A wet, sick sound echoed through the canyon, helped by the acoustic of the structure. After a couple breathes, I lifted the cat by its hind legs again, tail tucked between my fingers, and I swung at the wall again. Smack. My stomach rolled to the sound and my heart sank. Heavy tears streamed down my face as I repeatedly threw this cat, already dead – my dead prey, into a wall. Like a kid throwing a temper tantrum after a bad day on the baseball diamond. I was sickened by myself. To think that I would – that I could ever do this. Rage filled me, but for a different reason. I coughed from the exertion, exhaustion wrecking my body. The cat lay dead next to me and I could feel the distinct patter of drizzle from the sky as if it were crying with me. I felt angry; angry at myself, angry at the sky, angry that Kiti or the other dogs didn’t stop me before I killed. Yet, I knew that if anyone tried to stop me that they would have then been targeted by me and I surely didn’t want that. This cat didn’t deserve this, even if it was for protecting Kota. My love for Kota is strong and I’m glad that I protected him, if that is what one could call this, but I did feel that this was a bit on the overkill side of things.
The emotions from the kill faded, the rage dying down. But at the last second, right before hiding away again, it shot forth. Tossing my head back, I let out a scream. It went on and on, echoing down the canyon walls. My throat became sore, but I continued. If I ran out of air, I just took another breath and continued again. Tears, there were so many tears, hot and burning into my face. My canines receded and the rage induced screams became mere shouts as all strength left me. As my body collapsed to the ground, my vision went black and the dark took me, cradling me in a deep pit of remorse.
My eyes fluttered open and my room was still dark. My heart was pounding in my chest, adrenaline trying to wake me, attempting to sort out reality. Looking around the room, I made an observation check that this was not the one in my original dream. I was back to my mother’s most recent duplex, sleeping on an air mattress next to her organized mess of a computer desk. I sighed, free of the despair of that rage spell. The images of how it all started played through my mind. I thought of my dear sister, thinking of how we used to share our dreams – whenever we could remember them. And I knew that I had to remember this one for the life of me so that I could tell her all about it. I knew that she was going through a dry spell with reading material, but I was sure that she would be interested to at least listen to me about this little tale.
Excited, I laid in bed, still trying to catch my breath, thinking back to the beginning and placing the images to words, recounting how I might tell the story when the time come. And while lying there, I came to realize that if I did not begin writing this down instantly, that I would most definitely forget some of the more important facts. And so, I rolled off of my lovely air mattress, pulled on my pajama pants, sat down at my ghostly laptop and began to type.
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