More dreams last night. But bad ones, bad bad. I’ll detail the worst one.
A good friend of mine’s husband was accidentally ran over by a car. My daughter had driven the car that took him down. She didn’t know she’d hit anyone and freaked out when she was told. The guy, to which I’ll give a fictitious name of Steve, had a few people standing over him. Those people were traumatized by what Steve looked like, and quickly moved away from him.
Steve was left all alone laying on what had now turned into a dirt road in my dream. Not even thinking about it, I ran up to him and knelt down beside him. It quickly hit me what was so traumatizing about his appearance. The entire left side of his head was missing. He was obviously in shock and I realized he would be expiring soon. He was still attempting to get up and was speaking in words that couldn’t be understood. I did my best at making his last few moments as calm as possible, holding him and cradling his head in my arms – and the blood, my God all that blood. It didn’t matter to me though, what was of utmost importance was him having someone there with him during those last few moments of his life.
Flash-forward to another scene in the dream, where Steve was alive and walking around. He still was missing the large portion of his skull, though it had now healed. At least this provides a little consolation to an otherwise horrible Stephen King-flavored dream. I won’t even attempt to interpret this one.
Ironic as it may be, I just received this link in an email from my father-in-law, who doesn’t even know about my dream and does not read this blog. Dirt Roads