Dream Journal

Dancing dragons and the psychotic ex-girlfriend

The following is a dream I had when I was in my late teens and, as a heads-up, it does contain a smidgen of bad language. Although aeons ago, I can remember waking from this dream in a cold sweat and screaming out loud. As the saying goes: I have changed the names to protect the innocent. The real ex-girlfriend who made an appearance in this dream was not called ‘Sarah’, and she wasn’t a psycho in real life either. The dragons never had names, so I will just call them, umm, dragons. So, yeah, now that’s all clear as mud, here’s the dream. Enjoy!

The cliff-top that I’m walking along looks precarious

Although it would be cool if it were possible, this image was not taken from within my dream.

One misstep and I’m going to fall to my death many hundreds of feet below. I see a coastal cove down there with gently lapping waves sizzling ashore. I can also see a small island, a mile or so from the shore. There’s something swimming in the ocean out by the island… No, not one thing, but two. They’re swimming together, in an elegant dance. They are enormous creatures, with large scales and long tails… Dragons!

I’m happy and transfixed in wonderment as I watch the two dragons swim and dance together in the calm ocean.

I’m now laying on the old mattress of a rickety metal-framed bed?

There’s a strange and somewhat disturbing sound coming from another room; a low and incoherent mumbling. I look around and see that I’m alone in a dilapidated hospital ward. More beds lay scattered in various stages of decay. Paint is pealing away from the walls, like vast festering scars. The floor is covered with building and medical debris; bricks, syringes, and other indeterminable objects are all mixed together within the dirty mess.

The sound comes again, a little louder this time but still nothing more than meaningless chatter. I feel uneasy, and as the sound continues, my anxiety grows into fear.

“Hello,” I ask with a tremulous voice. “Who’s there?” The sound pauses for a brief moment, then starts up again and continues as before. “Hello,” I say again, desperately trying to keep my voice steady and calm.

The room judders, and then begins to shake. I see a vibration in the air, as if something or someone is moving around in the room, but whatever it is, it has no physical form. With wide, searching eyes I look for a means of escape. I feel something inches away from my face, but I still cannot see it. A deep, gravelly voice comes forth from the unseen and screams into my face, “Don’t fucking speak to me!” The verbal assault is followed by manic laughter.

I’m back on the path, walking along the edge of the cliff.

An old ruin appears ahead of me. It looks like a stone-age structure; a simple circular building formed from small interlocking stones. I realise that it’s actually an ancient tomb. How I know this is not clear to me, but I’m in no doubt that I am walking towards a tomb of some great age. I notice Sarah standing in the entranceway, she is wearing a wedding dress which is covered in a splattering of blood.

“Hello, Sarah,” I say as I walk towards her. For some reason I am unconcerned by all the blood.

She smiles back at me but does not reply. I turn my head to look over the cliff, and try to find the dancing dragons again. The dragons have gone, so I turn back to face Sarah. She is now upside down and floating in mid-air. She looks at me with a demented smile, then grabs hold of me and lunges towards my groin. I try to push her away and break free from her hold on me, but she is too strong. A terrifying moment later she is ripping off my manhood with jagged, razor-sharp teeth.

Thank Christ that was the point at which I woke up.

Although, I would have preferred my journey back to reality to have happened before Sarah ripped off my family jewels. As I mentioned earlier: I can still remember opening my eyes with a jolt, screaming at the top of my lungs, and covered in sweat.

Dream Journal

Love lane and the blood glacier

Love Lane

It was a country lane, a simple dirt track, that began across the road from a solitary old house. The house really existed in the waking world, the lane did not. The fabrication from my mind was called ‘Love Lane’. I knew its name because a faceless voice told me so. The voice also warned me not to venture down ‘Love Lane’, because it was full of sorrow.

Needless to say, I did. After walking for a short while along the lane, my gaze fell upon a peculiar tree. The odd thing about the tree was the fact that there were a number of children sat high up upon the branches. All of the children were crying, and after a few confused seconds, so was I.

The Blood Glacier

The glacier was far off in the distance, across a cold and barren wasteland. I walked towards it. As I drew near, I could see darkness at the foot of the creeping mountain of ice. I slowly continued on, moving closer and closer, until I realised that the darkness was actually an enormous amount of blood.

Awash, many tens of feet across and equal in height, of deep crimson, covered the bottom of the glacier’s sheer face. The macabre blood art also had a vast scattering of bones, skulls, and other human debris.

Just the rambling mind of a ten-year-old boy

‘Love Lane’ and ‘The Blood Glacier’ are names that I gave to two separate and, as far as I know, unrelated dreams I had when I was a young boy (around ten years of age). The slaughter at the foot of the glacier was a recurring dream I had on at least three occasions, and the dream was always the same.

Thirty-odd years later and I can still remember them both with near-perfect clarity. It’s strange what remains among the chaos and cobwebs upstairs. By the by, the old house was of the haunted variety, but that’s a story for another time.