the human mind is an incredibly powerful entity. my dream recall isn’t always reliable. this post is an account of what was, quite possibly, one of the most vivid and terrifying dreams i have had. i woke up with a shock. shivering with panic. the nape of my neck was damp, and my face was wet. i woke myself up with my screams.
after a few deep breaths, i realised i was safe in my bed and nothing could harm me. my cat, Alf, was curled up, asleep, by my side.
but the dream was visceral. colourful. and i remember certain smells…
i decided to record my recollection of the dream, in as much detail as possible, in the voice memo app of my iphone, plugged in at my bedside. i had to do this quickly before it retracted, recoiled back into the dark jaws of Hell from where it came from…
it was 3.34am on the clock.
i find myself in a big building. i don’t know why i am there. i can’t remember why i am there. but it’s a big building, foreshadowing evil, with lots of rooms and staircases up and down – some leading nowhere, like a riddle. the building appears to be in the middle of being refurbished. there are building materials everywhere. tins of paint tipped over and spilling everywhere. piles of bricks and rubble. the people who are refurbishing the building are there in their work clothes and entertaining whores. they are all doing drugs – snorting coke off each other’s hairy backs, smoking weed and blowing it back into the mouths of whores and there is a lot weird things going on. i try to blot it all out as i am desperately searching for my (then) boyfriend. everyone looks ugly and distorted. ghoulish. i can feel my heart race in blind panic.
i run up a flight of stairs. there’s a big TV hanging off the wall and there is horse-racing on. even the horses look ugly, distorted, tortured and in pain. crying, in a cold sweat, i go looking frantically in all the rooms. each room is full of people. some faces are strangely familiar. i sprint up another flight of stairs and there is loud music. deep house music. the walls are vibrating, my chest is pounding with my racing heart and sub bass. there are bare wires and buzzing lights. the refurb is shoddy. there are holes in the staircases and flooring. you have to watch your footing. everything seems to be covered in thick rugs and carpets, nailed to the wooden frames of wall cavities and stairs. the building reeks of mold.
i am looking for my lover and i can’t find him. i come out of one room and quickly into another. it is like a bar. people eating stuff. disgusting stuff. the smell is like rotting flesh. people, with the same demonic faces are drinking, gorging on flesh and smoking. smoking peyote. the room is filled with evil. they laugh as food and spit and vomitus spews from their distorted and ghoulish mouths. they are terrifying. i keep asking people if they have seen my boyfriend. they just laugh in my face or lie and send me in the wrong direction.
i run upstairs again. i find myself in an empty room where there is a glass wall much like a zoo enclosure. i look through the glass into another world. a beautiful world. a beautiful, modern and contemporary home – much like one Frank Lloyd Wright could have designed. it is minimalist, tasteful. it is a glimpse into another world. a perfect world. but still i can’t find my boyfriend so i leave that space behind and keep searching.
but i can’t find him. there are crowds of people. dirty people. nasty people. they are all busy with their own hedonistic pleasures. they are all laughing at me. some are covered in their own faeces. i am crying. and they are laughing. i take a step backward and fall.
at first i think i’ve just missed a step and then quickly realise that i am still falling. i am falling through another storey of the building. oddly, i had the presence of mind to not panic. i land on my feet and immediately drop and roll. luckily, i did not break my ankles. it was all so strange. i had landed on a really thick rug. there are lots of women in this room. they all stare at me. they are all different ages. all their faces are distorted, like evil demons. some look rough, and they all have teeth missing. one woman is sucking on a cigar. one woman says to me: “it’s nice to see you again, Kathryn” but i do not recognise her. i ask her if she has seen my boyfriend? i describe him and show her a picture of him on my phone. she says “yeah, he was here a short while ago… he might have gone back upstairs. have you been upstairs yet?” as i turn around to go back upstairs, i hear her mocking me… laughing. her laughter is shrill and hurts my ears.
i bolt up a spiral staircase and notice another dangerous hole in the stairway that had been haphazardly covered with a thick piss-stinking rug. i pull the rug back to expose the hole and i see someone downstairs who looks like my boyfriend. i shout and scream but he doesn’t hear me. i run back downstairs, shouting and yelling, asking him to wait for me but he keeps walking away from me.
without warning, a guy grabs me. he is drunk or high, or both. he is bald and brown-skinned. he may be Mauritian or Maldivian. he looks like he is from the Indian Ocean. he grabs me and lifts me up. i can feel his erection pressing into my stomach. his grip is tight. he has no teeth and his breath stinks. i start punching him in the head. screaming. he yells over to his friend in a denim shirt with long grey hair: “hey Bill, what do you think….? shall we have a bit of fun with this one?” i keep punching him and gouge his eyes with my thumbs, with a strength i didn’t realise i had. he drops me, as he screams in pain, covering his bleeding eyes. i look down at my feet. i realise i have bare feet. i kick him square in the balls.
i feel panicky. where were my boots?
the man called Bill walks over to me. he stinks of rotting fish and whisky. he looks evil. he reaches out to me. i pick up a brick and hit him square in the face. i hear a sickening sound as his face bursts open. i turn and run away, back round to where i saw my lover. but still, i can’t find him anywhere.
a woman comes up to me and says “Kathryn… its me… it’s Mum!” but she doesn’t look like my mum. i feel so confused. i say to her “who the fuck are you?”. she says “it’s me! it’s Mum! why don’t you come and see me these days? i never see you!” to which i reply “you’re not my mum! FUCK OFF!”. she is a small woman with dark hair scraped back off her face. she has green teeth and her breath smells like cat food. she is ugly and has the same strange familiarity. i panic. had i been drugged? why does my mum look like that? “i can’t come see you. i will come see you soon. but i can’t come see you. i have no car just now”. at that point, she suddenly looks like my mum and i hold her so close and tight. but i have to leave her. i have to go find my lover.
i wander into a corridor where i see a tall, beautiful girl with long dark hair. she looks native american. she stands out from all the other women and girls in the room. she is wearing a purple poncho and has a single feather as a necklace… a beautiful feather, like from an eagle, or a hawk. she is beautiful but she looks sad. all the other women throng around her. one woman i recognise as my old neighbour, from a previous address, says “oh… that’s so and so… she took her own life with our special drug just yesterday” and i say “so she’s dead?” some of the women mutter among themselves and one asks “so you can see her?”. i say “yes, i can see her…” they tell me they are going to exorcise her spirit. they throw petrol over her and one of the women starts splashing petrol everywhere. there is an awful burst of flames and i watch her body, her spirit burn. the smell is indescribable. i look around i see everyone laughing, dancing a wild dervish. i turn and run down a corridor, one with really soft carpet beneath my feet. my bare feet. and i am thinking ‘where are my boots… my beautiful elephant boots that my boyfriend bought me?’ i am looking everywhere for them. i am crying so hard as i loved those boots and they remind me of him, and everything we shared.
i go back upstairs and i end up in this room that smells of sweat and sex. it’s dark. i can barely see. three men come in. the first one smiles to me. i recognise him. he is a big big man. big, like a grizzly bear. i recognise him in my dream and from real life. he is a pretty famous guitarist so i shall not name him. he is naked and sits on the edge of a big day bed. the other two strip naked and join him on the bed. and they all start masturbating each other. one is suntanned and slim, with ginger brown wavy hair. he is smaller than the big bear. the third man starts to convulse. i look around and see lots of heaving bodies. there are crowds of gay men having wild hardcore sex all around me… grunting and groaning. the noise. the smell. i leave. i apologise to them. i don’t mean to be here. i am just looking for my boots.
i run downstairs, back down to the viper pit of horrible women, with the smell of petrol and burning flesh. i say to one woman that i am looking for my boots. i tell her they’re white, with black elephants on them… i have to find them. and i am crying so hard. i need to find these boots. i need to find my boyfriend. the woman laughs and spits on my face. she says “try the shoe basket by the door, you stupid cunt!” i run over to the wire shoe basket and look, frantically, for my boots. on the top shelf of the wire shoe basket, i see white boots with elephants on them, but they are not my boots – these ones have pointy toes and stupid little heels. i slide down the wall, crying, in despair. they are not mine. this woman comes up and says “what is wrong with you, you stupid cunt… you’re wearing your fucking boots!” i look down and see them. i feel some sense of relief. i hear my lover’s voice calling my name but i can’t find him. i can’t see him.
and it is at this point i woke up. my mouth was dry. i was shaking. after a long drink of cold water and a cuddle from my cat, i returned to bed and turned on a podcast to distract my mind. it was 4am.
but that was not the end of this night of nightmares…
i awoke around 5am, again in a panic and cold sweat…
i dreamt that someone had broken into my house and was kicking my cat around the flat. i was screaming. crying. my cat was screaming, he was terrified. i could hear his body smash off the walls. i jumped onto the back of the assailant and pulled his hair, scratched his face and bit off his ear. i was screaming to my boyfriend to take our cat somewhere safe. he did. he was there. our cat was wet with urine. my poor baby had pissed himself with fear and was shaking. i said to my boyfriend “hold him, hold him close… is he okay?” we were both crying, seeing our beautiful cat in such a state….
again, i woke up in a fevered sweat. panicking. i had to find my cat. i cried with relief to see he was lying next to me, on his back, legs akimbo. completely oblivious to the madness inside my head, thankfully. i, on the other hand, had a galloping heart, a dry mouth, sore throat and a small bruise on my thigh.
i got up and made sure the door was locked, returned to bed and put on another podcast to help me through the night. thank you Ricky Gervais, Stephen Merchant and Karl Pilkington for the much needed distraction.
From 2020.
(c) Kat McDonald
Inner Focus 