Knife Party

Knife Party by Deftones plays on repeat in background.

“I wondered about what would make me kill. Could anyone do this, in the right circumstances? Or is it a particular type of person? Because I know I’ve been angry, and destructive, even towards people I love. It’s always someone you love isn’t it?”

Found that quote in the papers a long time ago. Was surprised that I actually remembered it after so long. Some songs really have a weird mysterious way of jolting one’s memories huh? Anyway, this quote reminds me of a dream I had a while back. It has been a while since I had those weird dreams. I’m relieved but at the same time, there’s a part of me that misses those cryptic, macabre dreams/nightmares of mine.

Enuff with the civilities. I’m reminded about this dream I had after celebrating Sheila’s birthday. We were talking about how she wanted to get a steak knife and fork as a gift to commemorate a significant date between her boyfriend and her. Guess what? I had that dream right that night…..

We were just sitting at Dan Ryan’s, in one of the booth. Just like how we did earlier that same afternoon. Except this time round, we were having steak instead. I remembered teaching her (to her amusement) how to test how well the steak is done. It involves pressing your fore finger on other fingers and testing the hardness of the ball of your thumb against the hardness of the steak. I digressed…

We were just eating and chatting when a sudden awkward silence took over the entire restaurant. With that haunting silence, I found myself pressing my steak knife against her fair cheek. Strangely, there was no screaming, no struggling. She was just staring at me… defiantly. Those beady eyes of hers, daring me to press the knife down, to push the steel into her warm flesh.

And I did just that, slowly.

I remember vividly the acute depression forming and growing on her cheek as I slowly applied more and more pressure. Deeper and deeper it grows until… until her skin finally broke.

Her skin broke and the knife slid in…. Sustaining the depression. That dimple… with a steak knife in the middle of it… it looks so scary, yet the strangeness of it makes you want to look at it more. It would have been a comical scene if not for her eyes.

Her eyes were staring, glassy and wide.

Petrified and scared, yet defiant and angry at the same time.

Hoping that I’ll stop yet challenging me to go on.

I did. I began to saw the blade in. Slowly and deliberately, a sea sawing motion from the center of her cheek outwards to the edge of her mouth.

Blood didn’t spurt out. Instead thick syrupy ruby red blood ooze out slowly, they trickle down the blade, entwined on my arms forming larger trickles, which gathered at my elbow and dripped onto my steak.

Somehow, it wasn’t violent like other dreams of mine. It’s almost… artistic.