I met a demon
So I'm at church. I haven't showered in several days and I'm really reluctant to be there anyways, so I wander around in a daze and then leave. On the way out, I come across these wonderful bugs that are like seahorses mixed with caterpillars with succulent-like fins hanging all over them. I watch them in rapture, then look up and see a slowmoving tornado right in front of me. I beat my retreat back into the church, where nobody is much bothered about it, and I resolve to myself that if the tornado does not come in, then I should deedicate my whole life to that congregation.
When the tornado clears, I head back out to my car again. Along the way I see that the church has its Old Time Americana display for the children (I don't know why the fuck the children would be interested in that) up, French wallpaper with scenes of small-town mid-20th Century Deep Southern diners and gas stations and stuff up on the walls. I come out on to the church porch, and sit down. This young man, like a college freshman, wearing glasses and puffing on a cigarette, makes one-sided conversation wtih me. I don't want to talk but I acknowledge his presence for politeness, listen.
I sort of black out, and come to in a hybrid steakhouse-department store. Families with small children are everywhere, including a fat little boy who's arguing with his mother about candy. I wander around in a state of deep confusion, and then through a spoiled rich kid college off-campus housing gated community, and then finally emerge at a bar built into a steep slope which has the Old Time Racetrack with Model-Ts and WW1 motorcycles and stuff doing loops nearby. I go in the bar, and another young man, wearing a flat cap, is sipping Coca-Cola from a bottle with his girlfriend. He offers me one, and I'm passing by briskly, don't mean to snub him but there's that momentum to my walking that I slightly pass by. I see indignation flash across his face and make a point to go back and take the bottle he offered.
I now really want to get to my car, which I don't know where it is at first, and so I climb that steep gravelly slope - it's like climbing a fucking mountain, literally using hands at one point - to get to the parking lot. Suddenly hte gravel gives way beneath me and I'm being swallowed up like quicksand. Struggling makes it worse, but I manage to extricate myself and ran back down the bottom of the slope. I then see that the right side, which I was climbing, is a different color - lighter - than the left side. The way up the left side is effortless, and a man joins me, another young dude. I start making conversation wtih him about how cool this section of town is and how I never knew about the Old Time Racetrack and all of that. We kind of buddy up and go head down into town.
Now, we are heading down into a strip of touristy stuff at the base of some spectacular multi-colored, banded mountains, like the Painted Desert but with pine trees all at the base. I am feeling joy at finding such marvels right in the backyard - driven over the county many times and never seen this - and contentment exploring it with my new friend. We get on this bus that there's a big line too, lot of people staring at screens inside of it. It's very crowded, very uncomfortable. I get out and wait for him.
When he gets out, he's all piss and vinegar, very angry, like quaking with anger, demanding that I explain myself. Why did I walk off? Where am I going? I feel a sense of fear and creeped out by him that he's acting so possessive of someone that's basically a stranger, and then he namedrops a coworker of mine and chills run down my spine. I just met the dude, how the fuck does he know who I know? I then realize that he is the same man as the one in the bar, same as the one on the porch, changing his skin every time. He's been stalking me and trying to get my attention and every time I don't give him the attention he gets angrier and more aggressive.
At that point the dream fell apart.
Last Fall there was a period of time I had gotten heavily drunk several times over a two month span and every time I had nightmares, strange ones, one of which involved that kind of tornado motif. I had drunk a lot then, same night my dog died. These nightmares have been notable because they are (sometimes) loaded with meaningful symbolism that I could interpret immediately, and part of me cherishes them for their interesting content and lessons.
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