The warehouse was grim and dark. Round tables covered with tattered cloths were scattered throughout. The large room was divided into one third and two thirds. At each table sat someone that I had somehow met in my life, many of whom I did not remember. The attendees were all decked out in fancy clothes and sparkling jewelry. Each looked at me as I moved through the room.
I saw one man with diamond rimmed eye glasses and a white suite. Everyone had aged at least 20 years since I had seen them last. One group of people walked by, and in the center was an old crush, he still had the same blue eyes and striking white hair. He walked past me, glanced at me, and then continued as if we had never met.
One of my very best friends had lost a bunch of weight and she donned a golden dress and glamorous hat. She walked to the back of the room and into the smaller third of the building. Just as did my old crush and several other people who I deeply cared for. As the ones I knew closely went to the back and out of view, the one's I did not recall seated themselves at the tables in the front two thirds of the room. The walls were not painted and the floor was cracked. One long bench ran the length of each wall.
On the benches were men with knives and women who carried bright blue books and little blue patches that looked like band aids. I would find out that the patches were the difference between life and death.
I stood there for the longest time and watched carefully as each person entered the room, and I watched where each either sat or disappeared into the back. My sweet kitty cat Marilyn was with me, in my arms, watching over me, like she always does.
One of the men stood up from the bench and said something to me in a language foreign to me, and it was not something good. I became very fearful as he grabbed me and put me in a choke hold. I could see a knife coming into view from behind and knew he was going to slit my throat. Just as he was about to cut me, one of the women with a blue patch and blue book waved her hand at him and quickly placed the patch on my neck. The monster stopped and backed away in anger. I was shaken and scared. I ran off towards the back of the room and the patch fell off of my neck.
Just as it hit the ground, another man grabbed me and tried to use his weapon on me, just exactly same way. I felt like I was in one of those wicked video games, the hunted one, the prey. My attacker was not human, more of a robot, mechanical in nature. Each time as before, a black scarfed woman placed a blue patch upon my neck and the attack was stopped. The man would sit back down and glare at me. All of these attackers were following me, each with a knife.
These attacks happened repeatedly as I walked from the front of the room towards the back of the room to be with the people I knew. With each blue patch only lasting a few moments, I was quickly attacked over and over and over and over.
Exhausted and frazzled to the bone, I finally entered the back room. I was carrying my cat and as soon as we crossed into the safe zone, she jumped out of my arms and disappeared into a fog.
The smaller room was freshly painted, and filled with my friends who were laughing and having a good time. My old crush was off in the corner with his girlfriend and my old friend was dancing in a conga line, still wearing her golden dress and hat. We will call her Kairee.
Kairee had changed her life from when I had known her a long time ago. She was very happy now, after losing weight. She now was happily married and owned her own mortgage company. She pulled me aside and said she wanted to give me a chance to get back on my feet. She offered me a job but my heart sank because I hated sales and had done this before. I was not good at things like this, having never been successful at any job that was purely for the money. I knew I would fail. I had no choice though and could see that she was doing well, was stable and wanted for nothing. So I accepted her offer.
My office was downstairs and she pointed me to an old wooden staircase deep in the fog. She sat at her table, the room turned dark green, and her associates surrounded her wearing their black suits and high end shoes. I did not receive a warm welcome, except for from Kairee. She hinted not to worry and I went down the stairs.
The steps were many, probably over 20, straight down into the darkness. The whole room was old, wooden, dusty and filled with furniture and broken crates and boxes. A few light bulbs hung from the ceiling as I stumbled across what I could see as a floor. I was lost and became swallowed up in the dungeon.
I became fearful that my cat Marilyn would never be found again, as I had seen her disappear in that fog and knew she had come down these stairs. As I frantically started searching for her and calling for her over and over, screaming as loud as I could, "here kitty kitty, Marilyn where are you?", dozens of other cats appeared from out of nowhere.
Each cat had a feature similar to sweet Marilyn, but she was not in sight. Each time I saw a cat, I would run up and try to catch it and see if it was her. It felt like an eternity and I became exhausted looking for her. I scrambled all over the place looking and looking and found myself running from the mechanical men with knives. Once again being attacked and then saved by a blue patch.
While looking for my cat, one of Kairee's associates appeared to me and threatened me, saying I was not going to be approved by the company insurance policy and would not stay employed for long. I was losing everything, my job, my cat, and fearing the loss of my life over and over.
Off in the distance was a fluffy old couch, maroon colored, made with cotton cloth.
I pulled away the musty cushions and found my kitty cat and pulled her safely up in my arms. Just as I did this my cell phone rang. It was my brother asking how I was doing. Thank God he called and woke me up from that awful nightmare.
I went back to sleep and did not wake up again until 5:30 pm. That was my day today. I have a CT scan tomorrow. See my oncologist and get chemo on Tuesday.
Can't get that nightmare out of my head............sigh.
Hope you all had a better day...ha!
I go by #Servivorgirl. Celebrating almost 14 years since diagnosis of stage IIIC ovarian cancer, recently restaged to IVB. My blog is called Nobody Has Ovarian Cancer because I felt like a nobody upon the eventual correct diagnosis. Being told multiple times that I was too young to have ovarian cancer, I did not receive the proper testing. I am so grateful to Him for all those who allow me to share my love, to those who love me and those who treat my illness. I praise Him always.
Dreams are a challenge aren't they? They can either be blissful, or an uncontrollable parade of anxieties. I'm sorry you got this one stuck in your head. Hopefully writing it out helps?
ReplyDeleteCatherine,
ReplyDeleteYes they are. Writing it out does help. I try not to freak people out, but it's part of this disease. Our dreams reveal so much. We don't want fear to get the better of us, but sometimes our emotions need to be addressed and I guess a dream is one way to do it. Thank you. Peace and healthy wishes to you! Denise