Another Dream That I Pick Up A Lot On Because. Again Bro. Not The First Time Ive Had This Dream. - Tumblr Posts

Hey there folks. Had another dream so I thought I could share. I first had this dream about 5 years ago, although so something have changed. Didnt think this one would be a reoccurring one, but here we are. Enjoy, if you want to.

A car parked in a fancy gravel drive way, its white, and has a blank yellow number plate on the back. I'm wearing a long black gown, with little white crystals twinkling along it, it's a modern style. My hair reaches my shins, its dirty, but not knotted. My hands are covered in dirt, and dried blood sits like an old friend behind my nails. I'm bare foot, both feet are heavily scared, and the nails are painted a matte black and are slightly chipped. It doesnt hurt to walk on the gravel. Theres a house, a big, mansion like house. The door is red, with a big golden door knocker. The third floor window is open, and I can see in. Theres an angel statue, made of pure white marble. Its angry, it has diamonds for eyes. Its angry at me. I'm not sure why. I remember the last time I was here, a dream about 5 years ago, that room didnt have angel statues in it, it was a tomb, almost mimicking one fit for an pharaoh of ancient Egypt, only there was no sarcophagus, only a dark wood coffin. But that was last time. Now its angels.

I enter the house, the huge red door opening my it's own accord. The entrance hall is neat, and tall, a grand stair case stand foreboding before me. Red and silver carpet cover the dark wood steps. I shouldn't get dirt on the steps. The owner wouldn't like that. I walk left, theres a sound similar to that of the cracking of chains, and my ankles and wrists feel heavier. I am chained to nothing but myself. I keep walking. Theres portraits lining the walls, a serious looking woman. A family with three young boys and a baby. A brown haird man in his 20's. Only one is smiling. A portrait of a young girl, wearing a frilly dark blue dress. Shes about 10. Blond curls run freely around her face, the bonnet tied beneath her chin doing nothing to contain them. I remember I knew her. But couldn't tell you from where. We were friends, before I changed. She told me we would be friends forever. I dont remember her name. She hated ducks but loved swans. I dont know the colour of her eyes, they are scratched out on the portrait. She thought silver was regal but gold was trying too hard.

I'm running away from the portrait.The chains around my wrists and ankles start to disappear. My head hurts. I'm in the room that used to be a tomb but is now full of angry marble and stone angels. I dont remember climbing the stairs. All their eyes are made of precious gems. Some are missing. Their heads move to face me, and one swipes out. The vision of my left is gone, but I can still see with my right. The angel is holding a porcelain Doll's eye. Its clean. I don't panic when the angel starts to examine it, with its ruby eyes. Another angel, a stone one, with opal eyes, reaches out to touch. The ruby eyed angel doesnt let it. The angel holds out its hand with the eye in it, I dont want to touch it. I'll make it dirty. The white of the eye will absorb the colour, the green iris will dull and the black pupil will forever lose its shine. I hold up my dirt covered and blood stained hands to the angel, its head tilts ever so slightly to the right. I put my hands down. The dolls eye- my eye- is returned. I feel so small, and the angels have never seemed to huge before. They now over tower me, I barely come up to their shins. One reaches down to grab me, but I'm gone.

Everything is huge, in sitting in an office, the loud ticking of a grandfather clock is disorienting my thoughts. A bedroom, on top of a dresser. The woods, stuck upside down in a tree.

Theres a pool, the biggest pool I've ever seen. The moon shines through the window in the roof. But I'm not focusing on that. Next to the pool, is a tint stair case, leading down. It's big enough for me, and only me. I walk down the stairs. Theres a window showing beneath the water. Its peaceful. I turn away from the window. The room is massive. Somethings are my size, some are decidedly not. Its disorienting. I'm confused. I dont know who I am. I cant remember who I am. I dont think I want to. I walk back up the stairs. I start walking around the pool. My feet click against the floor. They do not make a fleshy sound.

I can hear a person in the distance, they're happy. Very happy. I notice I'm wearing something else. A frilly dress, like the one the girl in the portrait was wearing. Hers was blue. Mines black. I still don't have shoes, but my feet are no longer scared. My arms are clean and theres no blood beneath my nails. The happy laughter is getting closer. I sit down, next to the pool, watching the moon light dance on the water. They're old friends.

"There you are." A voice from behind me says. I'm picked up, and placed in the crook of an arm. I cant move. The person is running away from the pool, and to a bedroom. I'm placed on a dresser, and the person holding me faces me. It's the girl from the portrait, but not. It's the same blue frilly dress, the same blond curls, but the smile is too wide. The eyes are too big and they bear no colour but glassy white. I notice blood trickling from her nose and ears. I shut my eyes.

I open them. I'm standing outside the house. It looks not nesaccasily old, but it looks neglected. I'm a normal human size now, scars are back on my feet, blood and dirt are worn like gloves on my hands and arms. I look up. Before, when I was here before, there was an old woman looking at me from the window, her face unreadable. Now? Its the angry angel from before, but it's no longer angry. Its emerald eyes look sad, and it turns away from the window, and closes it.

I realise I'm no longer welcome. But I also realise, that dust sits on the door handle of the big red door, that paint is peeling off of. I never touched the handle. The gravel now digs into my feet. I turn away from the door, and I look at the car. It's old. Its covered in rust and dirt and one of the doors are missing. It was abandoned. No one left this house.

I turn away from the car and walk down the drive way, the sharp gravel now sticking uncomfortably into my feet. I walk away.

When I wake up, my throat is dry, despite the drool that has dried on my cheek. I'm not sure how to feel.

Even sitting here and writing this I still feel a little off. Who knows.