Drearms of Destruction and Oblivion
This morning Dayne’s father woke us up at 5 am for no reason other than he’s pissed at Dayne for not talking to him. Mind you, he’s an asshole and stays out of contact for years until he decides he wants something from us or just wants to put Dayne down so he can feel better about himself somehow. *sigh* Anyway. I woke from a dream that has seriously stuck with me. Going to write it out here just for the sake of it.
I was in an area of my dream city that I’ve visited many times but never lived in. There is a house there that I used to go to all the time because there is a bedroom inside that I desperately want to sleep in. I don’t know why it’s so safe and comforting but the family who lives there does not like to find me curled up in their spare bedroom so I am forever getting kicked out. lol…imagine that!
So this area of town is very city subdivision in nature, most of the houses being one of three styles the builders offered when it was first constructed. Every garage is the same with the same little ineffective windows at the top, the fencing is identical and the single tree planted at the end of each lot mirrors the next, all immature and sparse. The streets run parallel in a perfect grid and four highways form the outer square, leading off to different towns and cities.
There was a man loose in the neighbourhood who was on a rampage. He was angry like I’ve never seen anyone angry before and his wild hair and wild eyes warned of danger from any vantage point I took. He had something to do with me but I didn’t know how….first, I thought he was my father but quickly dismissed that idea. He was close to me though, somehow, and it although I didn’t have any control or influence over his actions, I somehow felt like they had something to do with me in a not-so-distant way. I watched over him as he began his rampage across the homes and people of the several block radius that I could see from where I stood.
The first house he approached was a corner lot that had property on three sides. They had a lovely glass greenhouse set up at the side and I could see healthy green plants inside. He ran….sprinted, really, up to that greenhouse with a crowbar in his hand and gave a swing that instantly shattered three panes of class which rained down razor sharp crystal raindrops into the lawn surrounding. He walked through the hole he had made and smashed his way through the other side as well. Upon reaching the house he tossed his crowbar aside and, digging his long discoloured fingernails into the sliding screen door at the back patio entrance to the house, he ripped it free and walked inside, chest and arms flexed, veins straining through his skin from neck to waist visible even through his cotton shirt. I moved from where I stood to follow him and watched as he flipped the solid wood kitchen table upside down with a single motion and swiped all the small appliances from the counter top of the clean, modern kitchen he found himself in. He picked up a chair and swung it at the wall, breaking it into many pieces and leaving a great gash in the drywall, dust filling the air in violent swirls behind the swing. He roared a wordless cry and charged into the next room, swiping family photographs from the walls on both sides of the short hallway, and I heard a terrible commotion kick up before I had moved in close enough to see what was going on.
In the living room there was a nice looking elderly couple sitting frozen with fear in their matching easy-chairs while what looked like infomercials played on the television across the room. The woman had been knitting but had dropped her work, one needle in the air, when the intruder burst into their home.
“I’m going to rip you limb from limb!” He bellowed with a tone so menacing it gave me goose bumps.
Without a second of hesitation he launched forward and toppled the side table next to the man and then grabbed him by his shirt which balled up in his giant fist. He picked the frail old man up with one arm and shook him so violently I heard his bones snap and break. His wife, too shocked to scream, just sat there and watched. The crazed man began ripping the elderly man’s clothing off and didn’t stop when he had stripped him naked, but continued clawing and tearing until he had managed to completely skin his victim alive. By the time he was finished, the eviscerated corpse only resembled a pile of meat and organs as it dropped to the floor. Then he turned to the woman who, finally, found the energy to try to run. She stood but he was on her before she could take a step. He jumped on top of her and I watched her crumple under his weight. It looked like he was trying to eat her from his posture and motion but I soon realized that he was just head butting her in the face, over and over, until her head was nothing but a bloody, pulpy mess. I was sickened beyond words but knew there was nothing I could do for these people. After the poor woman was dead he left her where she was and spun around the room tearing it to shreds. The couch cushions gave way to his claws immediately and fluff filled the air, most of which had streaks of blood from his hands and body, picked up while he mangled his victims.
We moved. He went out the front door, leaving it wide open, and directly across the street where he didn’t even break pace as he smashed through a bay window three feet above the ground. I heard a woman scream before I saw him grab her by the hair. He swung her in a full circle like a pitcher warming up his pitching arm, and her limbs crashed off the ceiling and floor as she screamed. The television was on and set to a children’s show but I didn’t see any kids around; I was so thankful for that. This woman’s house was trashed just like the last although her death was faster and far less gruesome.
We traveled through the house and onto the next where a blind man lived with his aging service dog. The dog seemed to know what was happening and he lay down at the intruders feet, resigned to his fate, it seemed. He brutally beat the poor animal to death and then turned on the blind man, suddenly silent and stealthy. For some reason, he wanted the attack to be a surprise, which only made him seem more of monster to me. I yelled out and warned the blind man, so he could prepare somehow, and he turned in my direction and thanked me moments before he was stabbed all the way through his torso with two brass fireplace tools from his own hearth. I watched until he stopped breathing, feeling that someone should.
This carried on for many, many houses and there were so many deaths I nearly stopped reacting to them emotionally. The destruction left in the wake of this horrible path was absolute; vehicles left in mangled strips of twisted metal and plastic, lawns torn up and gardens decimated, every window in every house broken and left with jagged shards dangling and sometimes letting go on their own to crash to the ground below. The roofs were torn wide open and some were aflame; walls were bulldozed into rubble, furniture in pieces and scattered everywhere as if a tornado had just swept through and destroyed everything standing. My view of the town pulled back as if on a helicopter and I was able to survey the town from above. The wreckage was heart breaking…nothing seemed to have survived; not a building, plant, animal or human.
Zooming back down to street level, I followed the sound of chaos to once again catch up with the crazed man. As I wandered up and town the street and through the broken, blood soaked homes, I came upon a woman who was standing in her kitchen looking dazed. She filled a kettle with water and set it on the broken stove, turned on the gas and then went to find a cup that wasn’t shattered.
“I’m just trying to make some tea.” She said, looking directly at the place where the ceiling should have been.
“Don’t you see what’s happened?” I asked her, even though she hadn’t been speaking to me.
“I don’t know what you mean. I just wanted a cup of tea….” she answered and wandered to another part of the house.
I could still hear the killer roaring and smashing things in the distance so I knew he wasn’t far. I left her house and went down the street where I saw another flash of movement inside a broken building. This time it was a man who was sitting in his bedroom, everything around him was broken and there was a water pipe spraying water across the room as he lay on his bed, half propped up by a soggy pillow. He was trying to read a newspaper but it kept getting soaked with water and the pages stuck together and turned see-through.
“Are you okay?” I asked, quietly tapping on the wall so I didn’t startle him.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?!” he asked in a loud voice.
I backed away and continued through the neighbourhood, tracking the angry sounds and collapsing buildings. The noise grew louder and suddenly stopped as I caught a glimpse of the crazed man standing outside the last house he had decimated.
“What is wrong with the people who are still alive?” I asked, knowing somehow that he would have the answer. “Why don’t the react to the destruction around them?”
He looked at me and took a breath, his chest still heaving from the exertion and adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“They are the ones who can’t see past their own reality. They don’t see what is around them because they refuse to…they don’t want to see the truth.”
I was taken by that statement. It didn’t seem possible to me that they could not see what was so plainly around them. They just couldn’t allow themselves to suffer? They couldn’t face the fear and loss of things and people and animals around them? It didn’t make sense…but there it was…people just wandering in a daze as if they couldn’t see what was right in front of them.
If that’s not an allegory for today’s society I don’t know what is. Ha…or maybe it’s one for my life and state of mind, rather. I’m looking for a new job. I’m really sad to leave this role because there are so many good people here. I love the staff and they really like and appreciate me too….it’s just too toxic with the leadership. It’s so unfortunate that two people can ruin something so good. I’m not going to pass up opportunities for change though…that would be stupid. I’m going to allow myself the option of finding something better. I know I can’t do this for another 20 years and expect to come out happy and healthy on the other side. Life is just too short and too precious to waste this much time, energy and anxiety on a job. It’s just a job too…not a ‘career’…nothing more than a paycheque, really, so I figure that if it’s just the means to enjoy the rest of my life, it shouldn’t be the thing that drives me emotionally. Right? Right. I’ve made contact with a surgeon I used to work with and really like….I know his secretary will be retiring soon. I was also contacted by an office that I worked with in my last job and the regional coordinator is set to retire next fall…if nothing else, I’m definitely applying for that one…I have a very good chance of getting it and it comes with full benefits and pension, just like this job does. That’s all I need. The stress, I can do without.
For now, I’m finding work to be a stressful place to be. It makes me feel so triggered and anxious, depressed and unsure. I’m going to work on letting those things go.
Haha…mind you, school starts again in a few weeks. That will be a stress returned. *sigh* Cycle cycle cycle. I want off this treadmill but for Colt, I’ll stay engaged. If I could just stop sleeping and reaming such terrible nightmares this would all be so much easier. I think.
No call from the cancellation list from the sleep clinic yet. I’m going to bug them again and remind them that I’m a great candidate for a last minute call in. Fine line between being a pain and keeping yourself on the radar.
Right. I’ve wasted an hour of my day already. Time to get some work done. *Deep breath* aaaaand GO!