My favorite dream-character has to be this red-eyed girl who looks like me…She has the same exact voice as the mania of the bipolar I was born with and she’s been so many fascinating characters, devising up so many different, extremely intense (and often disturbing or frusterating) recurring nightmares/dreams.
Every few months I seem to be able to recall more dreams co-starring her. She’s got her own sociopathically funky morals on everything, and she doesn’t mind telling me them.
- Age…about eight: she was just talked about. She had terrorized some place I was visiting and trying to repair. I know it’s her; I dunno how, but I just know it was.
- Age nine: Very bipolar-y; I kept impulsively returning to this park which kept returning me to the gates of this dark, firey place. Which she ran. Enslaving all the kids I’ve ever known or glanced at, having them harvest coal or something from the caves. At first, I was one of them…but I always felt I was being treated different/lighter then the others. Eventually, she made me, quote/unquote, “co-boss” of this place. They hated me and I felt sick and weird and guilty secretly doing less work then the others with this job. But she’d keep taking me for walks and telling me how I was “better then them”…Again, I was nine. Messed up, huh?
- Age early twelve…The dreams started out as me being on top of the world, protecting my village from villians by non-violent means. Slowly but surely, my small group of friends started avoiding me and the same guards that used to praise me and shake my hand started hurting me and calling me things like ‘insane’ and ‘murderer.’ I continued to try and protect these people, despite their intentions and thoughts about me. When they beat on me, I refused to fight back. They’d tell me I did the most gruesome of things to them, and that I was a lier when I said I didn’t remember doing any of them. I was exiled to the village’s tall stone wall, which was heavily guarded, only until needed. On the other side was nothing but near-endless descilant DESERT. On the first night, SHE appeared. She came out of a shadow of a bush, features identical to mine, only less mutilated and messy, with reddish, synical eyes. “So we meet, at last, (my name)…” she said between laughter. She told me about everything she had done and how I was powerless to stop her. She had already killed my friends. For nights, she’d come and visit me, taunting me, telling me of her deeds, and daring me to JUMP to the other side. “Why do you insist on protecting people who won’t let you even touch the ground…?” she asked once or twice. Slowly but surely, she just stopped visiting me all-together, and gradually I learned to anticipate her visits. I was left alone, on that wall, to decay and go insane in my solitude. - Did I jump…? I don’t remember, but I don’t think I ever did. I cried multiple times and sometimes woke up to chest-pains. Few, way too close to home. …I wrote a short story regarding these, recently: featured deviation on my DeviantART account www.fall-away-from-me.deviantart.com. But I took out a lot of the more disturbing stuff to make it less personal and more generic.
- And then, more recently, about a year or two ago, ages 14/15…she kept threatening to–and–shaking me awake. Unless I made degrading deals with her about getting my dreams on weekends and letting her take up space in another part of my, as I like to call them, “blankness-dreams,” and the like (don’t think I’m kidding.) I was so tired back then. Then laughing. And it was quite inconvienient how I was attempting public-highschool at the time. I must’ve looked like a nut, always sleeping through my classes. I’m like a toy to her, it seems.
And that laugh…but I haven’t had the mental stuff of Bipolar since I was like thirteen, so what the hell???
- The very last one; age 15, I believe. I dreampt I woke up in bed. I’ll admit I don’t like the dark very much, and it was dark in my room. So I got up and flipped the switch–no light. So I went into the hall. No luck. I kept going through my whole (old, as it turned out,) house, a little fearful, until . I gave up and returned to my room. There was a weird feeling and flourescant light surrounding my bed. Upon coming closer, I saw a foot half-covered in the covers–which had drops of blood on it. Then I took a step back, and guess who. I wasn’t scared as much as frusterated, as her (she’s extremely pale in this one, unlike all the other dreams) shrill manic laughter filled the room. And that was the end of that.
I gotta wonder if, three years later, she’s gonna come back. I really have to get to know her better, ask her why she haunts my dreams like this, and why she keeps returning. Maybe if I can find a way to unlike my old bipolar/mania, years from now perhaps, and see if that has anything to tell me about her. It could be my bipolar, which I was born with, trying to contact me. Through my subconscious, where I’m assuming she’s been locked up since I was thirteen.
Yeeep, I’m crazy. Only a little bit. But aren’t we all? Anyways, she shares my name, so I don’t know what she calls herself. And, just to top off this freakiness, whenever I’m thinking of her and talking to someone, I almost-always say “we” and “us” instead of “I” and “me.”
Yeah, a red-eyed lady that’s consistantly my age and looks like me is my most favorite DC.
I’m sixteen, by the way.