I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams. I occasionally will go through periods of time when I’m super stressed or there’s something on my mind that causes me to have abnormal dreams but it is super rare. I am a tried and true insomniac so I drug myself every night to sleep. This almost always insures me REM cycles minimizing the chances of me remembering what goes on in my skull while I’m out for the count.
Due to this fact I’ve drawn the conclusion that Sonic Drive-In is drugging me. After indulging in a strawberry milkshake late one night this past week I had a series of rather disturbing or strange dreams. I won’t get into the details of all of them but they were one right after the other all night. Some were so weird they were funny, other were just weird, and some were scary or disturbing. I’ve managed to work through all of them except the last one. This one woke me up at 8 o’clock in the morning and kept me up hours later pondering the meaning…and by pondering storming into my roommates room and forcing her to listen. If anyone can offer any insight into this dream I’d appreciate it. I’ve already done some searching myself.
Okay, here we go:
When I come to, I’m running. I can’t see anything but I can feel slight things whizzing past my face. I’m in a cornfield and I can’t see anything past my head so I just keep blindly following my feet. This goes on for however long–time seems warped in and after a dream. When I finally make it out of the field I’m spit out at the front steps of a small wooden cabin. The glass is gone from the windows and the front door is open. There is no sign of life; the house is completely boxed in by the cornfield. I run into the house but my point of view switches. I don’t see inside instead I watch as my body runs into the cabin and I wait for me to come back out. When I do I’m rejoined with my body and I gain my perspective back. I walk behind the house. There is a few feet from the back of the cabin to where the corn starts.
I finally see someone. There is man between the two. He is dressed as a hunter and he’s bent over a dead deer. He doesn’t see me at first. He’s lost in his own world basking in the glory of his kill. I’m concentrating on him hard when he looks up at me and smiles. He never stands tall, he remains bent over the deer. He grabs the antlers of the animal and lifts its head up off the ground. The eyes of the deer lock to mine even though I know that’s not possible. I know it’s dead. The hunter smiles again at me, bigger this time and says “it’s good to put the blood on your feet.”
And then I woke up.