Nightmares I – Realism

April 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

I lately discovered my nightmares could make a good Tim Burton movie. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. The next best thing is a blog post, I figured. So far I have three parts of what hopefully will be a nightmares series: Realism, Races, Gore. I’m starting with the Realism as not to be locked in an asylum anytime soon. All of these really, absolutely, unedited-ly have occurred in my sleep. I am not specifically interested in your amateur psychoanalysis, save that breath for telling me if this should indeed be a series or not.

Free Fall

Etta James’ record was playing on an antic radio. I wore a silk polka dot dress and slow danced on the roof, a warm night. He stood behind me, smoking a spliff, watching me. As I’d Rather Go Blind started to play. I stopped dancing, I was paralyzed by rage, jealousy, dark thoughts. I walk towards him confidently. I take his lighter. Burn his fingers, one by one. He doesn’t move, doesn’t scream but I can feel him hurting. I slice his lips open with my nail. Blood shoots me in the face. I push him from the edge. I look at him fall, it seems like an eternity. The same nonchalant permanent expression on his face, looking me dead in the eyes as he’s pulled down to the ground. He never collapses though, we just stare at each other forever.

 

Stress

I’m stuck in an endless loop. It feels like a childhood memory. I’m in the front row of a terrifying spacious classroom. I only see the teacher’s back, he’s fat and tall, white coat and dusty black pants. The board is filled with minuscule scriblings, I can’t see them clearly. My heart is louder than an 808 drum, so loud it attracts the teacher’s attention. Still doesn’t face me, he shouts commanding me to read the board. I’m ashamed, embarrassed and scared. I can’t pronounce a word. He keeps asking me louder, each time. I piss my pants. My chair’s legs break. I’m sitting in my filth surrounded by mocking laughter. I look up to apologize and I see the scribbling coming out of the board, closer to me. I fall back and break my skull. Just as I stand up, it all happens again. Over and over.

 

Ghizlane Radi

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