Carnival Rides And Carousel Pony Dreams

I feel:: scared

The stage lights made day out of darkness and I could feel the cool night air on my skin. I was at an outdoor music festival near to the front of the stage reclining on my elbows enjoying the soft, cool grass and watching Roger Waters play with Pink Floyd when a man reached over from my left and sqeezed my hand. I turned to look and there he was, black hair gelled up into a faux hawk, electric blue eyes, pale skin and full, red lips. He was wearing well worn jeans that looked like they were soft with many washings and a black shirt that, along with his jet black mane and paler than pale skin, made his eyes stand out like a blue fire. With his face over mine, he just looked into my eyes. I said something trivial like,"Wow, I can't believe I'm getting to see Roger Waters with Pink Floyd after all these years." I gestured to the stage, but his eyes never left my face. He was so close to me that I could smell him. He smelled like fresh turned earth and something sweet. I couldn't identify the smell, but it produced in me the same sort of comfort feeling that I get when I walk into a house and smell blueberry muffins baking. I felt like I was home, but at the same time, my extra sense told me that he was someone to be wary of. I should be afraid of him.

He took me to one of those trailers you always see at music festivals. The ones that only the talent get to stay in. The ones with actual furniture, electricity and blessed air conditioning. Several of his cronies, or servants, I couldn't figure out what they were exactly, were already there. He told them,"Make her ready for me." Then he left. I watched him walk away from the trailer standing just inside the door. The screen door was closed, so the further he got away from me, the more he looked like those awful pieces of art I used to do in junior high. The ones where you have to graph a poster board with ruler and pencil along with some piece of horrible art, then you have to reproduce it square by painstaking square.

I must have fallen asleep because the cronies (or servants) woke me sometime during the early morning hours when it was still dark, but I could see the dawn just barely beginning. They took me to the graphed-art-screen-door and told me to look at what was immediately in front of me. I saw the black haired man dressed the same as he had been when he left only he had come back with something. It was a carousel pony. I was taken back just then to times in my childhood when my mother would take me to ride the carousel at the fair which was just down the way from our house. I loved the carousel ponies with their bright colors and impressive manes. Their faces always made me uncomfortable. They always seemed to be in pain and screaming. Like they were once alive, but were caught just at the moment of an awful death, so their expressions would be cast forever in wood and paint. This pony he had stuck in the soft ground by its front hooves. It looked like it was a frozen running pony. I thought that,at any minute, it might come to life and run right into the ground. He gestured to the carousel figure as if to say,"See what I have brought you! Isn't it wonderful!" Then, he moved away from the wooden pony and that is when I realized that his arm and hand had been supporting something. When he moved away, that something fell out from behind the pony. It was a woman's naked body. He had positioned her in exactly the same way that the pony was stuck in the ground. I wondered why I didn't see her arms and legs before. I took a closer look at her and realized, as my heart stopped and sank dreadfully into my stomach, that he had cut off her arms at the elbows and her legs at the knees. I was frozen to my spot and all I could do was stand there and watch his face as he looked at me with sheer happiness and not a little madness. I noticed that he had painted her face and body with ochre red paint. She had a wide stripe that ran across her face from ear to ear and from her eyebrows to just below her nose. She had another wide stripe painted across her abdomen just at the place where her waist curved inwards. The last one was across her thighs; two slashes made to look like one. He had painted the ends of her limbs as well with the same red paint. As I watched, he told her,"Model". Then, she tried to twist and wriggle her way to an attractive position. It was horrifying. She didn't speak, so I can only guess that he had cut out her tongue as well. (She gave a scream so extravagant.) He kept her there, wriggling in the dirt for the rest of the night and I was forced to watch as he made her assume position after position. Finally, his servants drew me away from the cutting-graphed-damned-art door to the bedroom. There was no light except from the curtained window. (There was a screen on the window as well. It seemed as though the world had been cut up into little squares.) The door was locked and there was no way out save the window, but it was so small that a house cat would have had to sqeeze through it. I collapsed on the bed, more afraid than I had ever been in my life. I felt like I was crazy. I didn't just see what I just saw. He had presented her to me, along with the carousel pony, as a gift. It was like he wanted to show me his artwork. As my heart continued to pound in my chest and I felt the cold sweat creep over me, I kept thinking,"Everything is cut. Everything is cut into tiny, little bitty squares." I couldn't fathom the meaning. My heart stopped, jolting me out of my thoughts, when I heard the door lock turn and the hinges of the door groan. My whole body was paralyzed. I was so afraid. I could hear myself breathing in rapid, ragged breaths. At first, I smelled him, earthy and sweet, then I turned to see him enter the room and in the halflight of the dawn, I could see that he was carrying something in his hands. He stood in front of the bedroom window to let the dappled light fully expose him. He reached out his arms in offering towards me and with his unbelievably blue eyes glowing with preternatural light, he offered me,wordlessly, her bloody, severed head.


This is something I had to post. This was the dream I had last night and it has been with me all day and is still with me now. This has never happened to me, to my knowledge. I'm pretty sure that it's just a dream. Nevertheless, I'm freaked out. Not only did that happen, but after I woke up and stayed up for about an hour and a half, I went back to sleep and dreamed about that man again, only this time, he was threatening to kill my dad. I'm scared to go to sleep right now. This is the first time, EVER, that I have seen someone's face in my dream. I realized that as I was writing it. That's pretty important, I think. Anyway, whoever prays, I would appreciate some prayer. I've actually been having nightmares pretty regularly lately, I just haven't been posting about them much. I probably should write about them though.