So if you've bothered to ask me (not that you should have, it's a strange sort of thing to bring up) I probably have mentioned that I do not remember my dreams. As a result of twenty some dreamless years, when I do happen to remember a dream it is usually notable for one of two reasons. Either a) It's absolutely amazingly weird or b) it scares the ever living piss out of me. Unfortunately option a was put in there to balance things out, as that almost never happens. If I do remember a dream it's generally because it woke me up in sheer terror. I'll pause to let you debate which type of dream I'm about to unleash upon all of you (and by "unleash" I mean "have to get off my chest" it was that distinctive).
Things started off normally enough, I suppose, two friends and I were having a meal with Ben Franklin. As you do. Actually, let's go back a moment. What's a weirder aspect of the dream, the non-chalant inclusion of one of founding fathers (and what would we have talked about? how to avoid syphillis when tapping French aristocracy?), or that I have no idea who these two "friends" were? Yet, without skipping a beat my brain knew that these random figments were playing the role of "friend" in this episode. Anyhow, back to Ben Franklin (any guesses as to which column this dream falls into yet?). At least...I think it was Ben Franklin...ah well it's not important.
At some point during the discussion I realized that it was a struggle to bring my arms down after I'd lift them up (like after taking a drink), to the point where I was "sitting up" to get to my glass because I couldn't bring it down to my mouth. Somewhere in my brain the connection was made that my coat was too tight (like a proper gentleman I was wearing a fancy shmancy coat) and the fabric wasn't letting me "stretch it" to bring my arms down. I dunno, apparently my dream self is 1) insane and 2) severely limited mentally. Somehow, I was able to avoid looking too strange and kept my pinky out despite an ever increasingly "tight coat." Some indeterminate amount of time passed slash the scene changed and Ben Franklin "went away." My dream didn't provide an explanation, and apparently I didn't seek one, it all makes sense, right?
Anyhow, this whole "can't put my arms down" thing was getting worse and worse and it became apparent that it had effected my legs too, and they were being held straight. Wait, did I say "held straight" that's right, at this point careful examination of my wrists showed that "something" was holding onto them inexorably racking me (at least that was my initial impression...like I said, dream me is a little exotic in his internal explanations).
Invisible force grappling with me, and binding me in a fully extended position. Totally kinky. Or fucking terrifying. Awake Marcus now sees this as a pseudeo-erotic dream (or at least how it could be interpreted as such), if it weren't for the fear I can still remember I might even believe I just have some sort of issue that needs intensive therapy. Anyhow, re-enter the friends. No, I don't know where they've been in the intervening time. Maybe they were off signing the declaration of total dependence or battling goblins, it's irrelevant. If they were battling goblins I want to help them next time instead of being assaulted by invisible forces.
Anyhow, at this point conclusions were suddenly thrust into my dream-consciousness w.o any discussion about it with the other people around me. Again, it freaks me out how that happens. Apparently, some group of (we'll use the word ghosts...although the impression I get was that it was a more environmental projection of past events) ghosts who had worked in an asylum had taken up residence and were for some reason convinced it was time for me to go to sleep and needed to strap me to my bed for the night. Ignore the logical inconsistencies with this such as 1) wtf ghosts? 2) it became apparent that this was my childhood home at this time...which was bought brand new on a subdivided farm lot, and nowhere in the vicinity has there ever been a loony bin 3) no bed was present 4) it wasn't night 5) wtf ghosts?
Anyhow, the gradual increase in pressure was, apparently, their slowly getting stronger. My friends "consoled me" for a while, as I could move less and less and apparently had to spend the night "sleeping" (despite being aware of what was going on) on the floor in the living room. Things started to get really choppy, time jumped around, and apparently I was free for a little bit and was running around trying to avoid having invisible assylum workers strap me into an equally invisible bed (on the level of the ground), doing crazy wriggle wriggle ju-jitsu. At this point it sounds pretty rollicking and fun, but it really wasn't. The whole time I'm absolutely freaking the fuck out, because wtf, ghosts? I somehow climbed on top of a china cabinet (I can still really vividly see a long cobweb stretching off towards the big windows we have at the front of the house), and it's rocking back and forth wildly (although I don't think it was the invisible people, I think I was just rocking crazily because as I said before...I was freaking out). The friend who was there "helping" ran off to get the other person (who had been wandering elsewhere or something), leaving me all alone with whatever the hell was going on. The curtains billowed and I could see the shadow/outline behind them of someone, which just served to increasingly cause my heart rate to go up and me to hyperventilate. I jumped down from the cabinet, got to the middle of the room, was jerked to a stop...
And woke up.
Holy shit. I was drenched in sweat, totally frozen solid, my heart was racing a million bpm, and my breathing was ridiculously labored and loud. Words can not describe how freaked out my body was, even though my mind pretty quickly realized where I really was...but my fight/flight was still kicked all the way up in high gear. I also realized that I'd somehow gotten both my arms above my head and they'd kind of fallen asleep making it hard to move them...probably the intial cause for the problems I had with Mr. Franklin.
The weird thing is that I immediately tried to get back to sleep and back "into" my dream, just to find out how it ended...I'm really disappointed now (despite starting to panic just rethinking of how I'd felt in the dream) that I don't know the ending. What's the point in having one of the only dreams I'll ever remember...and it doesn't even have a proper ending?!
Sorry about the wall of text, but this was really a crazy thing and I wanted to get it out there. I think I got most of it...some things I left out because they were unimportant, others because they are tangential or too "embarrassing" (for lack of a better word). I kind of want to do more of this dreaming stuff now...just no more of crazy shades of asylum workers trying to put me to sleep.
And no, I don't think this dream should be interpreted to mean that my brain thinks I need to be committed against my will. Clearly it's everyone around me who is insane, not me.
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