12 July 2005

Sarah gets the shovel

So I woke up earlier than I would've normally preferred this morning. Due to a dream. First a brief rundown: my dreams are similar in nature to a theatre, with changing plots from one dream to the next, but the props and tools used in the dreams are often quite similar. I have had recurring dreams since my teen years of hunting the undead, whether it's ghoul, zombi, or vampire. (I distinguish ghouls as the rotting Hollywood "zombie" and zombi as The Serpent and the Rainbow, vodoun sorta of magic.) Sometimes I am being overwhelmed, sometimes I am kicking ass. There is no rhyme nor reason. But they're exhilerating nonetheless, and often emotionally confusing for me.

So the recurring theme is undead, though the story continuously changes. The one prop I created in my mind some years ago was a sword. This particular sword is about two-thirds sword and tapers off to one side for the last third to something akin to a fencing sword or long needle. Thus, I can swipe heads off and pierce hearts when needed.

Anyhow, these new recurring dreams have prominently featured my ex, Sarah, who's currently moving from the Netherlands to Curaçao, in the Dutch Antilles. I think I've had this themed dream about three times or so now, perhaps once every few months. I'll recap the few details I recall from this morning:

Half of the dream is generally of a romantic or emotional nature where I'm all like, Aww, it's so nice to reconnect emotionally with someone I care about, yadda, yadda, yadda… It reminds me a great deal of the scene at the end of Spielberg's A.I., where David asks the enlightened robot things at the end for that last encounter with Monica. They tell him that humans embody a consciousness that can only exist in one thread of space-time, thus to bring her back is impossible. But they do manage to give him one day with her, before her "being" fades away, back into the particular space-time where it belongs proper (or whatever).

I had an underground bunker of a base, with this peculiar secret way of entering from above that incorporated special dance moves with foot work along these beams above a pit. That's all I have to say about that. Once inside, there were other acquaintances with me, and I have a new encounter with Sarah. It's been years since I've seen her. It's all dreamy and emotional, sort of plays out like a cross between a sci-fi Indiana Jones adventure and a some movie starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere. (Did you know Richard Gere was born Richard Tiffany Gere?)

Now, in the past dreams, there may be some cuddling or talking, essentially all the stuff guys don't like to admit to. You know, we're reconnecting. It has this surreal dream quality to it all, and then she gets weak. I become concerned, and she twists around in pain until coming up from it all as a ghoul. It's not exactly the best wet dream. It's not even an enjoyable encounter.

And a little something about me: I fucking hate zombies. Hate them. With a passion unlike anyone you've ever met. Except for maybe Tara. She's a close second.

So in the other dreams I had to cave Sarah's head in with a shovel. Shovels have a nice reach to them, a good swinging inertia and hit hard upon contact. I distinctly remember having to run, scream, cry, and avoid her zombie ass. Then BONK! on the head. It sounds all fun and shit — I know, I've been hunting ghouls in dreams for more than half a decade — but it's creepy when you're getting all jiggy with it and she tries to vomit up blood in your face and claw your fucking eyes out.

So this morning was the Universe screwing with my shit. As I was maybe becoming expectant of Sarah's inevitable change (sorry, babe… sometimes my unconscious mind just does its thing) we decided to try to save her. So as she's lulling around in this dream state and all the colours are pretty, I lock her in the closet in the underground bunker. I remember someone else, a friend, above the closet on another floor helping me. We figured we could find a cure or something.

Unfortunately, when we went to go to open the closet door, perhaps to chain her zombie ass up à la 28 Days Later, there are two of her in the closet. The zombie Sarah is still quite aware of the door having been opened and is still sorta all dazed and screwed up. The dreamy, nice Sarah is looking at me all pissed off cuz the zombie Sarah scratched or bit her and now she's going to become another zombie Sarah. Two of them. Damn it.

So rather than a shovel in this dream, I had something akin to a rusty metal version of a cricket bat (whatever they're called). So without hesitation, a tear in my eye, there was a CRUNCH! and a KER-SPLOOT! and both fell to the ground in a heap of limbs.

Seriously, with girls… I never seem to be able to win.

No comments: