This dream of blood

17 Apr

I dream of blood.

I walk into your house, and the blood covers everything. I slip on it. On the walls, the armchair, the staircase.

I don’t dare go upstairs. I know your bodies will be there-how I know, don’t ask me. I know the body of your child, your lovely daughter is laid out, bloodless and sacrificed up there. The house echoes, is white and clean despite the redness that threatens to consume.

It’s quiet, and the floorboards creak underfoot. A terrible feeling wells up in my belly, I choke in fear, panic.

I start to leave when suddenly this woman, your mother yet not your mother, holds my sleeve, the white kimono sleeve and grins a horrible grin, bearing sharpened teeth and clean skin, stay awhile she grimaces, her grip holding tight, her other hand grasping a fillet knife, stay with me.

I stretch away from her hands, pulling myself out the door, stumbling, leaving her trapped in the doorway grinning, holding her knife aloft like a prize, her thin body framed by the sparse opening.

She is cold, evil and bloodless. And waiting for me.

I manage to find a police station, yet no one feels my panic, sit down and relax they tell me, it’s not that bad, we get there, don’t worry.

The hold me in place in the chair, a group of women intent on keeping me there, but doing nothing to stop that woman or ease the pain in my heart, the images flashing in my brain, the blood the cold cold blood on that white white house. I’m alternately scared and brave, wanting to go back on the off chance someone is alive…

I can’t erase the glare of that woman’s face from my memory, the pure malevolence…I’m seen her in other dreams I’m sure, but these dreams, these murderous death dreams, bathed in blood, they’ve been so rare, so far and away from me….


8 Responses to “This dream of blood”

  1. sweetsalty kate April 17, 2008 at 11:53 am #

    crikey! you’re going to have to write about puppies and fields of daisies next.

    Intense stuff. (gulp)

  2. sweetsalty kate April 17, 2008 at 12:00 pm #

    sorry, I didn’t mean to be silly. that was some amazing retelling of a dream I’m glad I’ve never had.

  3. daisybones April 17, 2008 at 12:43 pm #

    Amen, Kate.

    But beautifully remembered for all its horror. I am taking a silent, breathless moment to thank my psyche that I’ve been nightmare free for a while lately. They really send you spinning, huh?

  4. Eden April 17, 2008 at 10:46 pm #

    Please tell me you submit things for publication. You could be making money off your writing, baby.

  5. Deb April 17, 2008 at 11:07 pm #

    I know that dream woman.


  6. Jenn April 18, 2008 at 6:55 am #

    Wow that is a vivid dream, I am sure the kind you wake from with your cheaks and pillow wet and your heart pounding. Dreaming of blood is representative of life, love and passion as well as your dissapointments.

    It always strikes me as strange that a dream so desturbing and violent can actually mean something positive. How our minds create such images to express the way our heart feels.

    By the discription of the amount of blood I would say you have a lot of life, love and passion within you. Take a deep breath and love out loud.


  7. thordora April 18, 2008 at 8:26 am #

    See, I took it to mean something entirely different, relating to my childhood abuse and my desire to escape it, run away from it instead of confronting it head on. The woman being my sexuality, the dead the pieces of me I can no longer access.

    Either way, it scared the shit out of me.

    Eden-publishing is a huge pain in the ass. And I hardly finish anything I start writing anyway. But thanks for the compliment! 🙂

  8. bine April 19, 2008 at 7:06 am #

    the first lines into it, i felt like saying “wow, what kind of movies have you watched lately?”
    then i realise this is serious, dead serious. it gripped me. what made me think of your childhood abuse too was those people holding you down, telling you it wasn’t that bad.
    it’s good you are writing this down. i think there will be more places falling into place even if you think you can no longer access them.

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