I’ve had it. This sleep thing is bringing me to my knees. When I’m not staring at the inside of my mask and counting the seconds ticking by, I’m having dreams that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I tried to count (black) sheep last night, thanks to the suggestion of Redshirt over at BJ, but they kept breaking out into song–specifically, Thriller by Michael Jackson, complete with choreography. The sheep looked like they came from the Wallace & Gromit series, or from the stupid Serta commercials. Yes, it was good for a chuckle and a groan, but not exactly conducive to sleep.
So. I’ve been doing this bed by one thing for almost a week now. Since it’s started, I’ve had a nightmare a night. Now, I normally have nightmares, so it’s not highly unusual, but they had tapered off a bit before The Experiment. In addition, I have had the worst sleep I’ve had in years during The Experiment. I was chalking it down to the pains of transition. I know it takes at least three weeks for a habit to form, and my sleeping problems are pretty deeply ingrained, but last night may be the straw that breaks this camel’s back.
Warning: Graphic re-telling of disturbing dream below the fold!
Still here? Ok. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Seriously, this dream disgusted me, and it’s not easy to do. So, if you don’t like children in peril, stop reading now. In fact, go watch this video instead. It pretty much imitates the machinations of my mind while I’m sleeping. It’s called, The Nightmare Factory by Annihilator, and it’s spot-on. While you watch, I will be recounting the dream and cursing at Morpheus at the same time.
Scene: It’s somewhere in Asia. There is a trial going on for the procurers of the booming sex trade of young girls. In the courtroom, there are several girls in their mid-teens to late twenties. All of them are painted exquisitely and dressed in elaborate sexy clothing. They are all East Asian.
In the middle of these girls is a youngish couple. He is handsome, and she is beautiful. They are Asian, and they seem to be there to take care of the girls. The trial is over with the result of guilty for the procurers. The couple takes the girls home (about twenty of them). They have a huge house, and each girl gets her own room.
The couple also has two girls of their own. Quite young. 7 and 11. They are cute in that little kid kind of way.
I am watching the scene unfold as if I’m watching a movie. There is an ominous tinge to the scene.
Scene: The girls (the ones from the trial) are put to work. It doesn’t seem as if the couple are involved, but somehow, they are helpless to stop the flow of men who come in and out of their home. Most of the men are white. There are two white boys in the mix, too. They were at the trial, and they are on the side of rescuing the girls. The boys are around 10 & 14, and they are brothers. Sandy brown hair that flops into their eyes, freckles, shy smiles. They are the quintessential boy-next-door types.
Scene: The couple are eyeing the stream of men coming in and out of their home with a calculating look. They turn to look at their own daughters, the same look in their eyes.
Last chance warning: This is when it gets really bad.
Scene: It’s a bedroom. It’s darkened, but I can still see what’s going on in the room. The shot is from overhead and from a distance. The two daughters are on the bed, undressed. I can see their immature bodies as yet unformed. Neither has a vagina. In fact, they look like dolls tossed onto the bed. Their bodies are blocked out by the bodies of the teen boys who are slowly undressing.
I watch in disgust and squeamishness as each boy carefully opens the legs of his chosen girl (older boy with older girl and younger boy with younger girl) and pushes gently inside.
Scene: Afterwards, the mother opens the door to their daughters’ bedroom, and the girls are gone. The mother is in complete panic as she runs, screaming to her husband.
Scene: I am in the scene, in the room with the older boy, berating him angrily. I ask why he did that when he had been helping the other girls get out of the life. Why would he and his brother do that to a seven-year old girl–He interrupts me to tell me that the girl is ten, not seven, and the older girl is fourteen. I tell him it doesn’t matter. He is truly grieving, and he seems to think it was better for the girls to have him and his brother as their first lovers instead of adults.
I leave him to his tears; I am disgusted by him.
Scene: I start tracking the girls. I find out that they have fled to Iceland where a family friend lives. I call ahead to warn the friend not to tell the girls’ parents where they are. I make my ways towards Iceland.
The rest of the dream is not quite as disturbing.
Scene: I am at school (that looks like a big mall, complete with escalators and movie theatres). I go up the escalator, and then I fly, in a sitting position, my way down the hall. (This is my favorite part of the dream. I love flying in my dreams. I do it often). I reach my classroom (theatre) in one fly. I sit down, and a bitchy woman who looks like your typical mean girl snipes that I didn’t actually fly to the room. I said I did. She said I didn’t. I lead her to the door and show her how far away the escalator is. I insist that I flew. We sit back down, and she continues in the vein that I’m delusional. I snap, and I start choking her, my head filled with rage. I am telling her to shut the fuck up and to stop saying lies. I am slowly choking her to death; I seriously want to kill her.
Interjected note: When I was in tenth grade, I did, indeed, snap at a girl who bullied me every day. I grabbed her by the hair, yanked her head down, and told her if she ever bothered me again, I would kill her. She never bothered me again.
Scene: I somehow manage to rein myself in and let go of the poor woman I am choking. I sit back down in my chair, fuming. Then, I fly away. However, I am not very good with directions, so it takes me longer to get where I’m going than it should.
End of dream.
Appeal to Morpheus, God of Dreams:
Please leave me the fuck alone. I am tired of your unremitting malice towards me. I need to sleep, and I need to not have such fucking disturbing dreams. You’ve been on my ass long enough. It’s time for you to go bug someone else.
In conclusion, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do next. I am really on the brink with this fucking sleep thing. I need to fix it now.