So I dream in vivid color. Technicolor dreams, if you will
(From December 14, 2009)
Because I sure can’t figure it out. Well, kinda, but not much.
(Very strange dream involving a movie theater, a thrown-away ticket, and special dogs used as weapons. Keep in mind that I really do love dogs and am not very hated. Also I dream in technicolor and can probably come up with all the relevant colors in this dream if you want ‘em.)
I was in a movie theater and had my ticket in my yellow leather purse, but then I changed my mind and put my purse and the ticket in a garbage can in the hallway. I walked outside and realized that I did need my purse and maybe I wanted to see a movie after all. I went inside, checked my face in the bathroom mirror, and retrieved my purse from the garbage. My ticket wasn’t with it, though, so I had to walk down the hall and look in other garbage cans. While I was searching for my ticket, the manager of the theater found me and scolded me for coming back inside. I told him that I did have a ticket, but had thrown it away and then changed my mind. He was disgusted with me and yelled at me some more, but then I found my ticket and walked away from him into a radio station.
I think the movie theater manager morphed into the DJ, and he hated me so I had to hide from him. The studio where they did their show was across the hall from some offices, and it was open with big windows so everyone could see in. The DJs sat at a small desk or table with their equipment, taking up a very small space in their very large studio. I was across the hall in the front office and noticed the DJ who hated me was looking for me. I got scared and sneaked down the hall, trying not to be seen. The nearest door was to a scene shop and I slipped inside, hoping to hide behind shelves and cupboards, because the DJ had actually seen me and was coming out of the studio to find me. The men in the shop knew that the DJ hated me, and they thought he was horrible and helped me hide. First, it was by walking behind the shelves of lumber, like in a lumber yard, and hoping that constantly moving would keep the DJ from finding me. That didn’t work, so they emptied out a tall cupboard and helped me inside. They had to move some shelves and in the process the cupboard door got broken, but at least I fit! The DJ came over to see what they were doing, and they told him they were just reorganizing some supplies, but the door kept cracking open and the DJ could almost see me. I was scared, because he looked so angry, and when he was distracted, I ran on my suddenly bare feet into another room.
The other room was like a sound stage where they’d try out their sets. There was a big plywood platform set up, probably three or four feet off the ground and held up with two-by-four braces, and the surface of it was painted in a pale purple and green camouflage pattern. Someone came into the room with three strange dogs: the dogs were medium sized, like Australian shepherds and with similar coloring, except they had red eyes and there were big machetes inserted through the middle of their backs and coming out their foreheads. They were specialized dogs, kind of like a crossbow with a metal built-in slot for machetes. When they were angry, their barks would be the trigger that let the machetes fire through their foreheads. The man with them was hired by the DJ to build/breed/make these dogs as protection. I got the feeling that it was the man who was dangerous (he could smell me), and not the dogs, so I jumped on the platform where the dogs couldn’t see me. I dropped or threw something under the platform to distract the man and the dogs and ran very, very quietly on top of the platform, avoiding the sniffing man on all fours, and the curious dogs. The man was frustrated that he couldn’t hear or see me under the platform, and I was worried that he’d try to climb up and kill me there, using the weapon-dogs. But the dogs didn’t like the man and one of them turned on him and barked. The machete shot out of the dog’s head and into the man’s chest. There was blood everywhere. I was horrified.
I jumped off the platform when everyone else came in and found out that the dog who’d killed the man had also died. I wanted to make sure the other dogs were safe and while everyone was making sure the man was really dead, I ran into an adjoining room that was the man’s bedroom. There, in the dark, on a purple-and-gray covered bed, were the two other dogs. One of the men from the scene shop was there also, soothing the dogs. We decided we needed to take the machetes out of the dogs so they could be normal again, but when he took the machetes out, the dogs died. Their eyes were still red and I was so upset that the dogs had died that I cried. Someone said they weren’t real dogs, only machines with fur, but they looked real and I wanted to pet them so they’d feel some love from someone. I couldn’t because there was suddenly blood everywhere again. I desperately wanted to resolve the whole awful situation, but I woke up with my face pushed into my pillow and a sore throat like I’d been crying or yelling.
I can’t stop thinking about those poor machine-weapon-dogs and the DJ who hated me so much he wanted to kill me.