Today's true story:
I dreamed that I was viciously stabbed.
In my dream, I was pleasantly minding my own business. The specifics of the setting are rather vague; I know I was sitting at a table in a restaurant with a few friends. The next thing that happened, some psychopathic patron wielding a serrated-edged steak knife came up behind me and locked an arm around my neck while waving his knife with his free hand. I was quite surprised and helpless, really. Utterly powerless.
I can't remember what the guy said next. I just remember the looks of abject horror (oh, I have waited a long time to use the phrase "abject horror" in a sentence) on the faces of my friends at the table. I guess they didn't know what to do because I was in such a vulnerable position.
What I remember most about this dream is the pain. The pain of being stabbed in the sternum. There was only a modicum of pain when the knife pierced my flesh. What hurt was when he twisted the knife in my body. He then yanked it out and stabbed me in the belly, cutting me open. (It must have been one hell of a steak knife.) I think I started crying when I saw my intestines spill out, but for some reason I didn't black out. Instead, I experienced the repeated pain of being stabbed over and over in the torso. Now, I've never been stabbed in real life. I have no frame of reference and no real idea if the pain I feel in my dreams is accurate compared to real life. All I know is that I woke up from the dream, screaming like a stinking little pansy and covered in sweat.
It's been a while since I have had a powerfully vivid and violent dream like this. I almost forgot how much it sucks waking up covered in a cold sweat, with the sheets and blanket all wet. It's pretty gross.
Is it normal to have dreams which involve such violence? Do others have these types of dreams on a semi-regular basis? I somehow doubt it. This isn't the first dream where I died from being stabbed. I've also had dreams where I've been fatally shot, bludgeoned, and outright smashed by a giant hammer. For some reason, I rarely wake up at the first intense pang of pain. Usually I wake up when I die in my dream. (In dreams that involve hand-to-hand combat, I usually wake up when I get knocked unconscious. Or when I get kicked in the nads.)
Sometimes, I have dreams where I'm the one administering the grievous bodily destruction. Although I probably play too many videogames, I rarely have dreams where I shoot someone. Most of these types of dreams tend to involve me getting up close and personal with my victim. Like, this one time, years ago, I dreamed I was in a grassy field in Davis, and for some reason I was chasing one of my roommates from that era. Somehow, a baseball bat appeared in my hand right as I caught up to him, and then I proceeded to mercilessly bash his skull into the dirt. After I killed him, I woke up. Strangely, I was drenched in sweat in this instance as well. Perhaps the it is the intensity of dreams that causes me to sweat so profusely. I've had many other dreams where I fought someone to the death and came out on top. I think this was the only dream I've had where I murdered someone in cold blood. Other times, I am caught in mortal combat situations where I must fight someone to the death in order to preserve my own life, or the life of an innocent.
Still, I think I would rather dream about death than not dream at all. Sleep is much more exciting when you're being entertained by the subconscious whimsy of your own imagination. And, I gotta say, waking up after you think you've been killed is a glorious feeling. It's like a second chance at life.
I remember when I was a little kid, I would say my prayers before I would go to sleep. The last thing I would always say to end my prayers would be, "And God, please let me have a good dream tonight. Amen." I guess as I grew older, I kinda stopped praying that prayer. Maybe it's time to have faith like a child again.
