Being Crazy + Crazy Dream

Maybe it's a side effect of being an only child with no one around to talk to, but I have quite a few inner dialogues. I have played around with the idea that I might have a split personality, but I think I'm just okay with talking to myself whether it's out loud or just in my head.

This morning I had a prime example of an inner dialogue that made me chuckle. There was me, the person you see every day, that can be a little rushed, brash, even a little ditzy. I'll refer to her as Mary. And then there was the other me-- the calm, cool, collected, calculated me. I will refer to her as Helen.

===
MARY rushes toward the jeans drawer of her bureau and pulls out the first pair she put her hands on.

HELEN: You are not seriously thinking about wearing those jeans with holes between the legs.

It is a statement, not a question. HELEN'S arms are crossed, and her hip is cocked.

MARY: Huh? What do you mean? I only have one pair of jeans that don't have holes in them besides the ones I wore last night that reek of cigarello smoke, and those are dirty. That's it. I don't know what you want from me.
HELEN: I want a new pair of jeans, that's what.
===

On a completely unrelated note, I just read on CNN.com that Twilight author Stephenie Meyer got the inspiration for the series from a dream she had that she became nearly obsessed with afterward. That dream became the beginning of the series.

I actually have very vivid dreams. I don't know if it's part of my psychosis, but they are often very detailed and very involved. I have also had a dream that I have been slightly obsessed with, because it affected me very greatly.

To be honest, it scared the crap out of me. Much like Stephenie Meyer, I didn't want to forget it so I wrote it down. I must have had this dream 3 or 4 years ago, but I still remember it vividly. Here is a copy of what I scribbled down in my journal the day after I had it. Maybe one day I can write a novel about it. Who knows? It can't be worse than Twilight.

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The house is alone in the middle of a huge, unkempt property. I feel and know that I am somewhere on Galveston Island because the house is on stilts and the landscape is similar to the flat, salty grasslands of the barrier island. I am bored and I want to explore it. I have passed by it many times, but today I hop the wooden fence surrounding the property and make my way across the dry grass. I pass by fallen trees that are now gutted logs dried out by salty tides.

As I get closer the house grows larger. I didn’t think the house was that big from the road, but when I get there I can tell that it had two stories at one time. It still has two stories, and even most of its roof, but it isn’t whole any longer. As I approach I get the feeling that I am completely alone. There are no sounds around me except for the sounds I am making as I wade through the grass.

I walk under the house, through the stilts and the reason the house is abandoned becomes apparent right away. It has been completely gutted by fire. I can see the sky through a giant, blackened hole in the roof. All four walls are still standing, but it is as if the middle was cut out of the house. There is a staircase, some of the floor, and blackened debris all around.

All of a sudden, for no particular reason I am incredibly tired. I lie down on my back, staring up at the sky, and close my eyes. I must fall asleep, but it feels like just a split second before I open my eyes again. When I do fire is all around me. It is surrounding me, rushing up through the hole in the roof. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the flames licking at the bright blue sky overhead. The sound of fire is all around me—cracking, popping, whooshing up through the gutted ceiling.

I get up awkwardly, avoiding the flames that are burning the already blackened shell of the home. The fire is strange, though. It isn’t hot and it doesn’t seem to be doing any more damage to the home. It is as if it is a superimposed image of fire laid over the abandoned house. I am not scared, only confused. All the same, I look all around me for a way out, but there is none.

Out of the corner of my eye I see what I think is a shadow, but it moves from between the stilts. I freeze and watch intently. It is a blackened form in the shape of a human. It walks slowly and deliberately toward me, fading in and out as it passes through flames.

I am very frightened, unable to comprehend what I am seeing. I want to scream, but I can’t. My voice is stuck in my throat.

I look around, desperate for an escape. As the shadow comes nearer, I finally spot a break in the flames and I run through it. I run across the grass, the scent of burning wood and ash still all around me.

I glance back. The house looks like it did before I hopped the fence. There is no fire. It is as if nothing happened.

But I can still smell it. I can smell the fire in my clothes and hair. I am too afraid to go back, and instead I head back home.


Later on in the dream, I get the feeling of terror I had when the shadow was approaching me. It is an all-encompassing dread. The hair is standing up on my arms and on the back of my neck. I am with someone, and they ask me what is wrong. Again, my voice is frozen in my throat and I cannot answer. I turn around, and I am horrified at what I see.

On the ground behind me, following me, are footprints appearing out of nowhere. The footprints are being burned into the ground by something I cannot see. Smoke rises up from them as they appear. I know it is the shadow from the house.

I also know that it cannot be stopped.

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Creepy, huh? I still don't know what to make of it, but I avoid all isolated homes in the middle of large tracts of land in Galveston.