I killed my grandfather
2004-07-18 03:45 - Dreams
This article is going to begin with a bit of a description. When I was asking my friend Tegs what sort of topics she wanted available for her blog, she came back with the idea that you're supposed to remember your dreams better when you record them just after waking up, when they are fresh in your mind. Thus the Dreams topic was born for both of us.
I thought it a particularly great idea for myself, if it would work, as I dream quite rarely and wouldn't mind having more. At least, I don't remember many dreams. Some say people dream every night but only remember some dreams.
So, surprised I was to have just woken up with the most horrible feeling as if I had just killed my grandfather. The dream, as I can remember it as it is already beginning to slip away, went something like this:
I was in a house, a building that does not exist, a common thing in my dreams, and it was bright daylight outside. I was being shown the house by a realtor, and there were many other people viewing the house with me. It was suddenly dusk outside, and I was now in the house that I owned and lived in. The same house. Suddenly again, it was pitch black outside, and it felt like the realtor was back, but also something like I was shooting a TV how-to show. We came back to the far side of the kitchen to what I can only describe as a giant, marvelous pantry with complex shelves and furniture. Some particular dish needed to be chilled, and the solution somehow related to placing it down an area that was filled with water, and needed to be sump-pumped. The show's handyman was called in to show the audience how to properly pump water out of such an area. As he began talking and heading towards the basement door, all but him, me, and the house evaporated into thin air, no more TV show. I realized that I not only had just one shoe on, but the unshod foot was standing on an unpopped popping corn kernel and it was uncomfortable. I decided I should put my other shoe on before I went to the basement.
I quickly stepped the perhaps 10 yards through near darkness into the next room where my shoe was lying. As I bent down and picked it up, the dream got serious. I realize at this point, the dream had been totally silent. I had been aware of things that were happening, and associated sounds with them just as if I had heard them, except I had heard no sounds. The dream's first sound came to me as a horrible call of, "Tony!" followed by a smashing and clattering as my grandfather fell down the stairs.
I was panic stricken and began to head towards the basement. Passing through the kitchen, I saw my mother sitting at the table and tried to call out to her to pick up the phone and call 911. She clearly had been out of earshot of the noise of her father falling down the stairs. Or she had simply not existed at that point. I could not produce any sounds besides a slight whimpering, so I rushed towards her. My expression and carriage, coupled with the tiny pathetic wimpering I was still producing once I got close, somehow got the message across, she grabbed the (wireless) phone, and we both headed back towards the stairwell down.
Thankfully for me, the dream abruptly ended before we could investigate the situation. This is where it truly gets weird. I'm a heavy sleeper and I don't usually wake up for anything, especially a dream that isn't real. But awake I did, and filled with the absolutely horrid conception that I had really just been the cause of my grandfather's death. Perhaps not something that I would feel normally in that situation, save for two things: My very timely (towards the eventual ending) removal from his presence where I would have otherwise been right beside/behind him, and the absolutely horrid, and real seeming, quality his voice had, as he clearly realized as he slowly began to fall that he was both in serious trouble, and completely alone and helpless.
Quite a (disturbing?) way to start off the dreams category. It may be some great deal of time before I manage to fall back to sleep.
