Mathropologist! (weiland_daze) wrote in shared_dreams,

Most Likely a Result of Watching those PETA Videos

Ok so I got really drunk night before last--drunker than I have been in awhile-- and after passing out on Amber&Wes&Cyndi&Erica&Sean's futon, I had the most vivid and lurid dream in a long time. This is not for the faint of heart, fellas and chicas.

The first thing I remember is waking up in a large Victorian-style white bathtub, the air around me steaming. There are other people in the tub with me, most notably this tall and muscular African guy I know from my math classes (in reality). But something's wrong with his skin, most notably that it isn't there. I see his ribcage poking up from underneath layers of muscle, and twine is wrapped around his stocky body to retain the muscle's shape. When I realize I'm tied with twine as well, and there is a crowd of skin-covered, clothed persons watching all of us in the bathtub. Are we marinating? Are they going to eat us??
Apparently so, because the African guy stands up and makes a poignant speech to the "cannibals" (the normal people watching us) about how what they're doing is inhumane, and they should elect someone to represent all of us that are about to be eaten, all of us that are currently marinating. Of course I think what he says is bullshit: what do they care? They brought us here to skin us alive and eat us! I'm trying to look for a way out, and before his speech is over I get the idea that he is only trying to stall, buy us some time so we can all escape. While I'm looking for a way out, I see--of all people-- my mother sitting perched up on a stool in the corner of the large room. She's doing something with her hands that I don't quite remember, either drinking or smoking, but in reality, my mother does niether of these things.
I notice that the door to her bedroom is wide open. She realizes this the same time that I do, and I bolt for it, leaving behind the steaming bath of marinating human bodies, the African guy, and all the ravenous, eager cannibals.
The room is painted and decorated a uniform color of pastel blue, and directly across the room from the door is a window, from where I can see the street. I get to the window and can already feel the pain that jumping from a second story will bring to my skinless body, but I do it anyway--I'd risk anything for freedom. Pain is just a trivial thing, I convince myself. So I jump. The leader of these cannibals, an older woman dressed in white with white hair that so closely resembles Joan Rivers screams obscenities at me, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUU!" I just flipped her off and hid behind the corner of the house before her cannibal henchmen were able to get out of the house. She didn't see where I'd gone to, which was stupid.
I jumped a few fences before I got extremely exhausted and decided to find a house that would take me in for the night. I was successful. they fed me and blanketed me and asked all about what had happened. They said I could stay for the night and even though I sensed something fishy, I didn't leave.
The father gave me a tour of the house but when he left me to my room I realized that there was still one more room that he didn't show me. It wasn't locked, but difficult to open.
The room had about three television monitors lined up on a shelftop that lit the room in a warm blue tone. On the floor were tools and plans that I quickly recognized were the same ones at the cannibal house! The father must be one of the people heading this whole movement/cult!
Without thinking, I gathered all the plans and tools on a blanket and rolled it up. I had no idea where I was going to, I just knew I had to confiscate this sort of thing as evidence against the cannibal cult. I left the house stealthily, but I still didn't know where to go. I was getting tired, and I missed my eyelids.
I dumpstered for clothing and tried to stay out of populated areas. It seemed the people comprising this cult could be anywhere, any ordinary person. So now there was nobody I could trust. I thought about going to my boyfriend, but was overcome with a realization that I couldn't remember how he fit into this entire picture, if at all. Did he die trying to rescue me from the cannibals? Was he one of them, that offered me to them for their communal consumption? Was he dead? Dying? Alive? In hiding? I strained to remember, and when I couldn't, I just stopped caring and found my way into obscurity. More specifically, I lived in Santa Cruz, where the homeless dwell in numbers and would willingly, avidly listen to my strange tales about being skinned alive and nearly eaten at the will of my own mother.

< /dream>


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