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More Weird Dreams

12/2/2018

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Good morning, Readers!
Picture
The cannibals in my dreams did not look like this. This nightmare fuel is by Deviantart.com user Tapwing. Click the image to head to their Deviantart.com page.
​
Okay, there has to be something in the air or up with the alignment of stars or the distance of the moon or SOMETHING, because for a week running, I've had really vivid, weird dreams.

The most recent one was really odd, notably because I was in a life or death situation, and I wasn't scared, I was utterly furious.

Anyway, it starts off with my friend and I visiting an open house in a community development.  As we arrive, my cousins, with a few of my aunts for company, are leaving, pushing through the crowd in a rush.  I remark on them, and suspect that the open house was theirs.  They're the ones selling, I suspect.

We check out this open house, and find out it's a gorgeous three story house that is literally open.  Other houses are attached... without walls.  That's the community part of it I guess.  Still, the place is absolutely beautiful.

Cut suddenly to (I guess) a few months later.  My friend and I are hostages to cannibals.  Apparently that community home is a community of cannibals.  That's why my cousins were getting out of dodge, I suppose.  So, we're trapped in this room, which is sitting over a lake, surrounded by cannibals who are waiting... for the right time?  I don't know why they were waiting, but they were.

I had only just figured out that they were cannibals, and instead of getting scared, I got really angry.

There was a surge of water on the lake, which I used to escape with my friend.  Apparently, though, I went back for some reason.  I think it was to steal a pen?  Anyway, it cuts to back inside that same room I was held hostage in again.  I had a note that one of the cannibals had given me about how she was going to try and escape the "community" with her daughter, and she wishes I had managed it.  My mistake was coming back for the pen, as it was the seat of their dark powers.

I was devising a plot to get that pen from the lead lady (who I remembered was very lean, and severe-looking, in a pantsuit, and had the pen in her hand as she was leaning against a desk in the room) and break it, but then my alarm went off and I had to get to the gym.

So, that was my dream.  It was weird, and should have been scary, but I wasn't afraid, just angry.  I was angry at being tricked, angry at being trapped.

That was my night.  How was yours?
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    S.M. Carrière, a Celtic Studies enthusiast, writes fiction.  And this blog.

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