| ~Charles~ Dec. 2000 |
| INTRO. At the time I dreamt this I was spending the night in my grandma's creepy house. Sorruounded by darkness and numurous mirrors I put on my headphones so not to feel alone. The CD I was listening to? TITANIC. |
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| The sun is barely beginning to set. Finding myself in a backyard, I take inventory to see if I know whose it is. I look at the perfectly cut lawn and realize that it isnt grass that im actually standing on. I look beneath my feet to find a circular stepping stone. Leading in a straight line in front of me are similar stones leading up to the back door of a quaint little house. I now notice all the charming llittle knomes, windmills, and chimes decorating the near portion of the yard and the porch of the house. They all appear to be hand-made. And-well, they all give off the appearance of an old woman's house. Eerie, how the house looked a lot like the old lady's house at the beginning of the Titanic movie. Taking visual inventory of the rear portion of the house, something catches my eye. Its so obvious now that I dont know how I missed it before-the window had been busted through.I get this uncanny sense that Im at an uninvestigated crime scene. I instinctivly grap and cock my gun...I now notice that Im some kinda law inforcer. I quietly open the back door and stealthily creep into the house. I peer through the dimly lit house and notice a figure in a dark corner. As I approach I see that it is an elderly woman who appears to have been attack and had resisted. She has bleed to death-apparently reaching for a phone. A noise sounds from behind me a ways. I turn and come face to face with another-also holding a gun. Its a man in civilian clothing. When he sees that Im clearly a cop he puts his gun up and lets out a frustrated sigh. "What are you doing here? This is my case. I don't need any help." I get an attitude right back at him. I throw my gun at the ground and yell in his face,"I didn't want to be in this stupid dream anyway!" I march off out the back door and across the lawn I had just walked on prior. And suddenly a white picket fence appears in front of me. I hunt down an opening and walk through it. I then find myelf in the back yard of a large, white church. The sun has come up again-but his time it seems late afternoon-not quite dusk. I walk into the church and see that the front of the church on the stage is line up of very beautiful women. All of them are blonde and proportionally perfect. But their personalities are lacking drastically. And lets not mention their very poor vocal "talents." A lady dressed in a black,leather cat suite and an abundance of curly, brown afro hair is shouting orders and demands. I realize that this is a triout for the casting of a play "Grease." They were trying for the part of Sandy. I feel as though I am physically inferior to the others and dont belong there. I start to walk away not intending to tryout. But I get the courage to turn around and step onto the stage. All the perfect looking girls look at me like I'm some sort of defect. But once I start to sing theyre floored! The caster is amazed. She starts clapping and proclaims,"You've got the part!" I knew I got the part! All of the sudden I notice the persistance of a guy who has insisted on shuffling around among the pews. I yell at himto stop moving-but he doesnt seem to hear me. I storm off of the stage and all the characters become instantly still. All of them! Except-him...even the breeze drafting through the chruch seems to have ceased. Not him. I walk into the pew next to the one hes walking in. He appeares to be tracing his footsteps...staring intently at the floor. I start imitating his body language and begin to stare at the floor-hoping to get any kind of reaction from mocking him. Nothing seems to get his attemtion. I speak up,"What are you doing in my dream?" The sound of my voice startles him but he doesnt appear to be caught off guard. He looks at me in a defensive and confused way,"What are you talking about, this is my dream." "okay....I don't care. The point is that you're ruinning my dream so you should go now." He ignores me once again and continues to annoyingly shuffle his feet arond and stare at the ground. I finally lighten up a little bit and a feeling of familiarity comes over me,"I remember seeing you in another dream-you come with a name?" "Yeah-don't you?" "I'm Sarah." The countance on his face changes to familiarity. He seems to remember me,"My name is Charles." "Charles?!" Then we both stare at eachother, wdie-eyed, like wed been found-out or caught doing something that is never allowed. Then I woke up feeling like Id been snatched out of my dream. And the first thought that came to my mind was this-he was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was a REAL person-a real soul!Who is Charles? |
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