Dream Diary- Bleed
I'm in high school again. High school in this dream is represented by a long maze of dimly lit corridors, saturated with dull whites, greys, and blues. I walk into a room, and Shannon is there, along with some of my friends (no one in particular that I can remember, just the sort of generic, background noise a brain generates for a dream, lines of code built into protoform labeled 'friends'). Shannon looks very different from her pics in this dream, with bright happy eyes and a look of peace across her face. she is wearing white. She slides an arm around my waist and mutters something, nuzzling my cheek. High school is empty except for Shannon and my friends.
I talk to my friends for a bit, and see a long wooden table with a lone picture frame adorning it's surface. I disconnect from Shannon and go to see what the picture is. My friends tell me it is for me, and I need to take it home with me. I pick up the frame, and it immediately begins coming undone. The picture is coming loose from the frame, which is coming loose from the glass on top that slides in between the folds of the frame. I have a sense of urgency to get this picture home before I break it. The picture inside is faded brown, like those old pictures from the 70s faded with time. It is a picture of me and all my achievements, of me standing proudly with my first book I'd written. It is a memory of something that hasn't happened. I tell my friends I'd better go before I break the picture.
I turn to Shannon to leave, and she pouts out her lips towards me in a playful way. I lean down to kiss her. Shannon is my girlfriend in this dream. Her body is warm and comforting against mine. We embrace for a moment, then I tell her I have to go. I have to get this picture somewhere before I break it. I walk off down towards another dimly lit corridor.
After a few seconds, I miss my footing and the pieces of picture once again slide apart in my hands. the frame goes one way, the picture and glass another. I become aware that I cannot drop the picture, because the glass will shatter and I cannot hurt myself. I try to regain my footing and repair the pieces of the picture, looking again at a me that never existed, proud of himself for the things he's created. My breathing gets heavier and heavier and i walk down the corridor. I begin counting every step and starting intently from my feet to the picture to ensure it isn't broken. I remember that my blood is thin, and the glass will cut me. I will die if the glass cuts me. I begin having a daydream while i walk, an image of me falling into the picture and the glass peirces my skin, spraying blood everywhere.
I become aware that I'm in a dream. This is a dream. The glass will still cut me if I drop it. I can't drop the picture. I feel my body shift in the real world, trying to escape the corridor. In the dream I keep walking, keep watching the picture that keeps trying to escape it's bindings, and keep sleep-daydreaming about crashing onto the floor onto glass and spraying blood everywhere before someone hears my gurgled cries for help.
My body jerks as I wake up. I take a few seconds to assert that I'm in the real world, laying on my mattress in Brian's living room, watching the soft blue light come through the windows as the day starts.