Last night I had two dreams. Both were oddly realistic and I could have sworn that they actually happened if it weren’t for my bedhead now.
In the first, I was taking a bus–the 24 Victoria Park, I believe–heading south. This bus was speeding along, but I had no idea why I was on, or why I didn’t recognize a lot of the new buildings along that route. I used to take that bus to school and home from school everyday so it was distressing not to recognize any of the new surroundings.
The bus driver told me to stop humming, as if he knew me. I went to the front of the bus to speak to the young man (older than me, but still young). I have no recollection of who he was or how we met before–I just know that he was supposed to be someone important to me from my past.
My second dream is only second in the order that I want to recall it in. I actually have no idea which of these two came first, as my head is swimming and still pretty messed up as usual. In this one, I was on a mid-sized boat, like a military cruiser or something like that. I am not too well-versed when it comes to ship classes. I’m thinking of a ship with a big flat deck, probably something you’d see mercenaries on in my twisted, anarchic world. Man, that’d be badass…
In any case, it was a stormy night and pouring rain. The ship was in a small harbor with stores/merchants/inns along the docks, like a plaza of sorts. I remember meeting a young man, a little older than me, who was–now that I think about it–suspiciously similar to the driver from my other dream. He was a mercenary or military guy of sorts (I’m guessing because he was running around with a gun). I have no idea what I was doing on the boat, but I did know that I was relieved to see this forgotten friend. I followed him around for a minute or so before he disappeared into the dark.
With the rain falling and in the dark of night, I was the only one left on the boat. I looked on the deck and found a corpse of someone I didn’t recognize. I didn’t know what to do, but I do remember that I was somehow responsible, because I spent the rest of this disturbing dream trying to hide the body. As I scrambled to get this corpse wrapped in a tarp of some sort, a girl friend of mine (I know exactly who this was, but probably shouldn’t disclose) opened her door. She asked me what I was doing from the docks, to which I told her a lie I don’t remember now. She returned to her room to continue painting her dark red walls a golden yellow.
I ended up ramming the ship into the sand, and making off with the body.
The most frustrating thing about these dreams is that I have no idea who most of the people from my past are, just that I’m supposed to–but don’t want to–remember. There’s plenty that I wish I could remember better about my life so far, but more that I would love to erase from my memory. I sometimes wish I had a head like a hole.