Of course, it's always lame when somebody wants to sit down and tell you about their dreams, but deal with it.
It's very long, because it's the entire synopsis of the dream. I literally sat down at the computer and typed everything in the exact order I remembered it, and it took me about an hour. I mean, to this day it still bugs me, especially since I had it again last night, with some minor changes (like the beginning).
If dreams mean anything, then I fully understand the meaning of this one. It's pretty obvious, and I'm sure if you read the whole thing you understand it as well. But I guess I just thought I'd share it with you, because now I'm thinking about it and obsessing over it again. Which is bad.
Oh well. If you want, tell me how you feel about it, and if you don't, that's cool too...it's not like I'm expecting feedback here. I just need to talk about it. And if you don't feel like sitting there and reading the whole thing, I won't be offended, because it's long. Very long.
I spent the night last night in Schmee's basement, so my dream begins there. I'm asleep, and all of a sudden I feel a poking on my leg, like a needle or a very tiny finger. I brush it off and continue to sleep. The poking becomes more forceful. I still ignore it. Then I hear scissors slicing something...my hair. So I wake up instantly (in the dream) and it's two older adults who are unrecognizable, but I know that they're someone's parents. They were using acupuncture to wake me up and when it didn't work they decided that they needed to cut off some of my hair to reach this pressure point on the side of my skull. They were very adamant about waking me up, like it was imperative that I was no longer asleep. I yelled at them, because what right did they have to take my hair and poke me with needles? They yelled back, we argued, and I left out their front door, furious.
Once the door closed behind me, I realized I was out on a smooth abandoned rock beach, with nothing around me except the ocean and rocks and a large twenty foot piece of driftwood. So I decided to sit on the driftwood and gather my thoughts. Ocean sounds, seagulls, the works. Once I sat down, I noticed a dolphin laying next to the driftwood, dried out and alive. It was covered in bloody scratches and its sides were heaving. I was terrified.
I looked around me to see if there was someone who could help me with this dolphin, and immediately the beach was packed with people and their striped umbrellas, lifeguards, beach balls, sand castles (the rocks were still there, but sand was as well), and other beachy things. I started yelling, and asking for help, because what the hell do you do with a dying dolphin? I didn't want to get in trouble and do something that would kill it, because I knew that it was going to survive. But it seemed as if no one even knew I was there, crying, and yelling for help.
Suddenly this guy appeared, and like in dreams, I knew him…but I didn't know him. He immediately picked up the dolphin and started carrying it off the beach, not towards the water, but farther inland. I followed him of course, because I knew that was what I had to do. I felt responsible for this dolphin.
He carried it far off the beach, down this thin paved road lined with short trees. Straight ahead but far off was a huge hill with a small house on top. I knew we were headed for that house. But on the way there, there was a large iron gate. We opened it without a problem, but the guy and the dolphin could not simultaneously fit through the gate as much as we tried. He turned to me, looked me in the eyes and said, "Here. You have to do it," and he handed me the dolphin and basically vanished.
I had no problem getting the dolphin through the gate, but getting it up the hill was harder. I had to go inside that house. Finally I made it in there, it was like a small vine-covered one room cottage that you have to step down to get into. My friends were there. I don't know which ones. I just knew they were friends and we were close. I laid the dolphin on the bed (of rocks) and went inside the phone booth (because of course there was a phone booth) and flipped through the phone book to find the number for the Fish and Wildlife Department, but the pages were all blank. I left the phone booth. My friends had no idea that there was a scratched, dying dolphin in the room with them. They tried to talk to me, but I kept on saying that I had to take care of the dolphin. They never asked what dolphin, but I don't think it even registered with them. I gave up and gathered the dolphin in my arms and went out the back door.
In the backyard was a fair, or a festival, with tents and booths and full of people. They were all people I knew. Not well, but recognized. I shouted for help, and no one paid any attention to me. I cried. I hadn't stopped crying since I first laid eyes on the dolphin. I screamed, and yelled, and showed everyone my dolphin. All I got were stares. People began to follow me around. I walked all around the fair. The Acupuncture Parents from the beginning of the dream were there. I asked them for help. They just looked at the dolphin, then looked at me, and were like, "hell no." I spat at them. What was I supposed to do? Where should I take this dolphin to save it? I knew it needed water. A bath tub. This was my solution.
So I started the trek to find a bath tub. I passed my high school, where kids I used to know were standing. They watched me walk with the dolphin and decided to follow me. People from the fair were following me as well. My friends, my best friends, were following me, as if they wanted to see what I would try to do with this dolphin but they didn't really want to try and help. I wondered where my parents were. I knew that they would be useless in the dolphin department. They would just make me give it to the authorities. But it was MY dolphin, and MY responsibility.
The whole way there...where, I don't know...but the whole way there I cried. I wanted to know where I could take this dolphin. I wanted help. I needed help. I couldn't take care of it by myself, I didn't have the necessary skills. So I cried, and shouted at people, and tried to make them help me. For nothing.
Finally we got there. It was a condo. In the mountains of
But in the bathroom, standing in the bathtub, was every single person that had followed me across the country. They were brushing their teeth, and the bathtub was filled and overflowing with murky, dirty water. I asked them why they were in the bathtub, why they couldn't use the sink. They told me the sink was broken. I turned on the sink to test the theory. It ran blood quickly, for just a second, then dirty water. Then the entire sink was covered in blood and dirt, and it was completely uncleanable. So I went to the kitchen to check that sink. It was fine.
There was another phone book, and a payphone. This phonebook was full of gibberish. It didn't matter though, I'd found a bathtub.
I ran back to the bathroom and told everyone to go into the kitchen, because this bathtub was reserved for the dolphin. They all started filing out of the bathroom, still brushing their teeth, dripping toothpaste and dirty water all over my grandparents' white carpeting. They sat down on the couches and put their feet up on the table where the dolphin was laying and continued to brush their teeth, ignoring the bloody, gasping dolphin in front of them.
I didn't understand how they couldn't see such a perfect animal in complete distress. Or how they couldn't care whether it lived or died. Why didn't they help me? This dream was too vivid for me to ignore.
People continued to file out of the bathroom, and I started to drain the bathtub. The dolphin needed clean water, I knew it. And since the tub can fit about a hundred people I knew that the dolphin could swim around inside. The tub drained and I turned on all the faucets (there was more than one, but I don't remember the exact number) and started filling it with clean water. I ran to get the dolphin from the coffee table.
People continued to brush their teeth and come out of the bathroom. I ran towards the bathroom door. It began to shrink, but people could still come out, I just couldn't get the dolphin inside. I turned to the side, I tried to walk sideways as carefully as I could, but there was just no way it would work. Finally I pushed myself, like I was standing behind myself and I pushed. So I was also shoved through the bathroom door with the dolphin. The two of us slam into the mirror and it shatters, and we're crushed up against it as people continue to file out of the tube. I can't breath, I'm sure the dolphin is dead, and I'm crying. Then I wake up.
I woke up crying. I left Schmee's house and I cried the whole way home. Right now as I type this, I feel like crying. It was by far the scariest, most traumatic thing that has ever happened to me while dreaming.