|Love this cool shot by irmischmider. Photo links courtesy of webshots.|
Friday morning, right before waking, I dreamed I was being chased by a man through my grandmother's old house. I vividly remember thinking of the guy chasing me as a "zombie", but he wasn't dead or decayed. Instead he was an intruder, yet, someone I apparently knew who had broken in the house and was trying to catch me in order to... I don't know. Hurt me in some way.
I tried to hide from him in the large, walk-in hall closet, but he found me there. So I ran, or apparently drifted, through the walls since he was blocking me in, and I took off through the den, stopping outside the door to my grandmother's bedroom. In waking life, my grandmother died about 17 years ago. We were very, very close. Back when I lived with my grandmother, I rarely went into her room. I wasn't forbidden from going in there, I just didn't go in there out of respect for her since the only times she ever went in there was to sleep at night, and to take her afternoon nap.
In this dream, I didn't want to go through her room. I didn't want to disturb her, but I knew that guy was going to grab me if I didn't run, so I did the inevitable - I flung open the door. The room was dark. I couldn't see anything but pure blackness. I dashed through the room, to the side door. (The room had two doors, one into the den, the other lead into the hallway, creating a loop through the house.)
I sensed my grandmother in there, in the bed. I sensed her take notice of me as I reached for the doorknob. She said something to me in the dark, I can't remember what, but it was like a question. Or maybe she just called my name. She sounded like I had woken her out of a deep sleep. I called out to her and told her everything was okay, that I was just passing through. It was that moment I got the door open. (the doorknobs were old fashioned iron knobs, which were always loose and hard to turn). I ran through the other side into the hall, and I was looking for a place to hide when the guy came out of the shadows.
He looked completely normal, and not at all gross or anything. Ha. He looked a little like the guy who played Tony in the movie Waxwork (1988). Very clean cut, all American, blah blah... Still, I knew he wanted to hurt me. And while he acted calm and kept advancing, I knew I had mere minutes before he killed me or something. As I passed the bookshelf, backing away from him, I snatched a book off the top - some white paperback - and was using it as a shield. He advanced toward me again, very quickly, and I used the bound edge to basically pop him in the mouth. Of course, he didn't even blink, much less stop or retreat. He backed me into the dining room, where I woke up.
It was a very intense, scary dream. And lying awake afterward I though about the part where I rushed through my grandmother's room. I tend to dream about her every now and again when I'm really stressed - that certainly fits with the scene lately. Ma'am-maw (as we called her) was the family matriarch, and the family sort of dissolved after she passed away. The extended family doesn't get together for holidays, or anything like that anymore the way we did when she was alive. She was the glue for the family, and I guess in many ways she was always represented comfort and stability to me.
The dream bothers me a little. Symbolically at least, I ran to her - in her room of all places - and was distressed enough to wake her up, even if I wasn't trying to. There are many interesting little tid bits to think about there. I guess there shouldn't be any wonder why I have such horrible insomnia.