Mikey VS Unknown

Back on the topics of dreams again. Had a violent one last night, it's not violent in the sense that you jolt upright all sweaty and gasping for air. It's violent in the sense that there was so much brain numbing violence in it.

I remembered walking around with a guy inside a half completed building, it seems that I was there to look at how things are going on with the renovation. Suddenly, he smashed my head from behind with a flourescent lighting tube. POW! And sparks was flying everywhere. The next thing I know was that i was teetering and tottering all over the place, blinded by my own blood. But there he was, right behind me, mocking at me. Somehow, there seem to be more lighting tubes where ever I turned. One after another, he smashed them into me, against my scalp, against my back, against my temple and against my legs. Wasn't long before I was a mess of glass and blood.

The next thing I know was that my hands closed on a white porcelain ashtray after falling against a table. That's when the sick part comes in. Naturally I turned around trying to defend myself with my new found weapon. The thing was that no matter how hard I swung or lashed out, his head totally eluded me. It seems so beyond reach at that time, I just kept missing my target. The frightening part at that point in time was the sense of dread and panic I felt. I knew I had to do some damage before he kills me, and with each miss I could feel myself getting weaker- from fear or from the effort I took I do not know. I never felt so dasperate in my life, I can feel that I was going to die soon if I couldn't nail the son of a bitch and do some physical damage to him. " Hit him before he kills you!" I keep screaming to myself in my head.

I cried, given up and resigned to the fact that I'm gonna die in the hands of this psycho. A last ditch attempt at a weak flail and a low thud resonated through the building. I've got him. Finally, something surged inside of me and I was onto him. Thuds after thuds rang out as I pounced on him driving the ashtray home. The bloodstains on my body? They seemed to be magically tranferred onto him, disappearing from me and reappearing on him one by one.

Pretty much woke up at this point, the surprising thing was that after such a disturbing and violent dream, I woke up smiling. Was rather spriteful and energetic for the entire day. Wasn't at all drained by it, I cringe now to think that the dream fuelled me for the day. It's like.... I thrived on the negative aura of the dream.

I'm freaked at myself.