Yes, I had another dream...and this one was disturbing, even for me! Although it was rather simple, and short compared to some of my other dreams that is.
It started with me sitting at a vanity, you know the sort of thing, where there are drawers and a mirror and make-up and things? I glance up at my face in the mirror, but I don't look like myself, not exactly, it's like...a slight shift in my perceptions, as though I was looking at an ancestor, or a decendant or something, someone that looked like me, but -wasn't- me. That was bad enough, but then I picked up a blush brush (for the males reading this, it's a big, fluffy brush that women use to put blush- a tint powder thing- on their cheeks to colour them) and twirled it, brushing it over my face.
Bits of my face fell from the brush, like fine powder, my eyes were closed as I was doing this, so as to not get the bits of me in my eyes. My entire face brushed, I got a cloth and wiped the remaining little pieces away. I looked even less like the me I see in the mirror, it was more...ethreal, unearthly, yet captivating...haunting but not in a scary way you know? Haunting in a....dare I say it? In an oddly beautiful way...but an otherworldly way. The way that a siren would have been beautiful, if that helps any.
My face 'clean' I turned the brush to my arms and twirled it over my skin, dusting away. My skin flaked away like fine scales to fall to the floor as I methodically cleaned first one arm, and then the other of the dusting, the layer over who I really was. A reddish gold showed through the paleness of what my skin usually is (Seriously, I don't tan) the colour of rose gold, for the hue. Gold, but with a sheen of the palest red.
I again wiped away the final flakes with the cloth, my arms, neck, face bare of the artifice before I stood, and in turning from the dark wood of the beuro (sp?) the dream faded, but peacefully. Like the exhalation of a pleased sigh.
Very...odd. To say the least.
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Come think, come ponder, perhaps, you'll understand?
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2 comments:
Interesting is the word I would have used.
Two things come to mind.
1. The Shadow, a movie with a particular scene where the protagonist dreams he pulls the skin of his face off to discover his arch rival underneath.
2. Dream theories. Perhaps Freud would have something to say?
Freud most likely would. As a matter of fact, I do as well - Dreams usually don't mean anything, but one as... detailed as this usually has something underrunning it, that might not be obvious. In this case, I think something is placed in the wrong spot, namely arrogance in the place of self-esteem, which is only being fueled by the fact that you won't do anything but apathetize when others tell you what you already know. Something inside you - what you want to beleive about yourself - is surpressed, and now it's choosing other places to
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