Off your head

I saw a dream I wish to write down.

It began with a scene, where I was near to a small river and trying desperately to help a mid-thirty man climb up a very steep shore. He had chestnut curls, trimmed nicely so most of the curls was on top of his head, green sweater hiding office shirt with tie, slightly round face with thick brows and big eyes, which looked as if he’d just spent sleepless night. It was middle of a night and there were tons of lights flashing around like somebody was searching us.  It was stormy and the water foamed. I kept yelling him to grab my arm, until suddenly a huge branch flew past and cut his head straight off. Smaller twig from it lashed red mark on my cheek, but I didn’t care, staring breathlessly at his body slowly slipping in the river until the waves washed it away.

I woke up in my dream and found it very disturbing. I went to the bathroom, which looked like something of a hotel room – very sterile and nothing personal in it -, and washed my face. When I looked up in the image in the mirror, I was surprised to see that the slash I’d seen receiving on my right cheek in my dream was still there, running from my ear to the corner of my mouth. Not as deep, but it looked like I was whipped.

The next scene I saw that man again. It was again insanely stormy night, but this time the river we were standing near, was much wider. He was pointing at the large boat, or a small ship (completely black – like looking at negative of reality) and yelling to me and the others (I knew there to be three more people, one boy, whom I could see). He was yelling, because otherwise we wouldn’t heard him. I saw the tree fly past us and could swear it was the same that cut off his head in the last dream. But in this one, we were hit by monster waves that broke off several boats from the shore, even when they were taken out of the water, and carried them off the river and floated them away. He was still yelling at us, looking at us if we understood, when the next wave ran into the shore, suddenly broke off that negative of a ship and pushed it right up, breaking all the planks before screeching horribly and rising out of the water in all its mightiness and falling straight at him. I don’t know why I was sure it won’t hit us, but I didn’t move, knowing it will only kill him.

I don’t remember waking from that dream. Next I knew I was in a small salmon pink office room with light grey over-floor carpet and small whiteboard. It was some cult meeting I recalled. I was offered to participate as observer and I remember being invited there by some girl. I had just moved in the town and she was living next to me. I had been bored and I knew, where I was going, though I don’t recall feeling like joining. There were about six of the members there besides us.

I felt like I had to sit down, when he suddenly walked in, in the same sweater and office shirt underneath, setting his notepad and pencil on the table and starting the meeting in absolute oblivious manner. He smiled, greeting everyone and then turned to the whiteboard.

I rose up, pushed my chair under the table and turned to look right at him.

“I don’t think you should call out that demon,” I said out of the blue.

He looked at me blankly, but then something in his posture changed and he pushed his chest up. “How do you know we’re about to call one out?”

“I saw in two dreams how your head gets separated from your body if you call it out. You can’t control it.”

Next scene I saw we were running upstairs and we were followed by a pixie. It was dressed red, it was tiny, and it had black hair with two long red bangs on the sides and the rest cut in geometrical shape. She reminded me of Lolitas with her over-romantic dress.  We were running upstairs and I knew the man was afraid. I knew they hadn’t listened me, when I told them not to call it out, and now he was trying to do anything in his power to change his future. So somehow he had managed to contact a race of pixies (and it seemed odd to me even in that dream as before that I was absolutely convinced that they were Disney’s invention), but the pixie somehow had been turned too small by her own race as a punishment for something she did. So now we were searching some book from the library on the fourth floor in a huge wooden house that served as the headquarters of that cult.

We were already up there, when all lights went out and it turned black outside. The pixie was terrified and started to panic, telling us how we must find that book and how we must say the words from that book. Nothing seemed to work, no light no anything. His mind seemed to numb as well, for he was getting lost, whispering that he didn’t like this at all and how he’d like to keep his head on his shoulders.

“That’s it!” I shouted suddenly, raised my hands up, called– it turned to thundering show outside – lightning to show me space, called out who ever mighty would possess the power to forgive that pixie its deeds and declared the deed nil-void if I didn’t receive any help right this instant. The man found the book and read from it immediatly Poof! The pixie was suddenly in normal size of one foot, with much more modern set of clothes.

Then I woke up, thinking how on earth can I dream while being in sleep? But there it was – twice. Interesting experience.

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