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Jul. 28th, 2006 | 06:31 pm
posted by: enlar in nightmarevt

You know how reality enters into your dream world? Some say that our dreams are nothing more than random regurgitations as our subconscious sorts through the activities of the day. The other night this place intruded into my dreams.

I dreamt that I was having a quiet drink in my usual corner when I saw someone that looked like the guy from the news. This guy was a dead ringer for that serial killing pedophile that everyone was searching for.

He pushed past the patrons and headed to the bar. Instantaneously he managed to piss everyone off. His first drink did not come fast enough. His second drink was not wet enough. His third drink emptied the bottle and he had to have another of that very same kind. When the bartender explained that the bottle was empty he just stood there shaking with rage. Then someone made the mistake of tapping him on the shoulder asking him to leave. His eyes bulging from his sockets he promised his revenge.

He shouldered his way back through the crowd and at the door he shouted something unintelligible and grabbed the cute, little blonde coat check girl, dragging her with him outside. What kind of guy would do something like that? It had to be a stunt, some weird reality TV show gone wrong. Needing to know I followed him out the door.

Outside he fought to put girl in his trunk. I slide across the frozen parking lot and tackled him. We struggled and somehow I managed to get the upper hand. Aren’t we all invincible in our dreams?

Finding an icy puddle near by, I subdued him by pressing his face under the water. I pushed down hard onto the back of his skull and I could feel the ice crystallizing on my skin. A crowd gathered, watching.

I looked at them and I realized that if I let go, let him breathe, let the cops take him away, then one day he would be free to harm some other girl. In my mind this guy did not just look like the serial killer…it was him. He was the embodiment of evil, and I did not even care if he was innocent. He needed to be stopped.

I looked into the crowd and I saw the faces of his future victims. I called out to them and asked if I was doing the right thing. My hand was the hand of vengeance. I was willing to stain my soul with his black murder. If I did not do it, someone else would have to. Better it be me than to let anyone else suffer.

His hair floated in the water as I ground his face into the mud at the bottom of the puddle. I could feel his life leaving his body. My frozen fingers were warmed by the last of his body heat as he struggled to live. Finally I felt a twitch. Just a slight one. An exhausted one that signaled the end.

I woke covered in sweat. I knew it was just a dream. This place where we meet and drink is crazy enough to give us all nightmares. I am honestly surprised that this was the only nightmare I have had since I started coming here. I am glad it was just a dream.

I think it was just a dream.

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from: thesybil
date: Aug. 9th, 2006 07:45 pm (UTC)
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Having had similiar, albeit less deadly visions, I expect it is real.

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skratchgirl1

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from: skratchgirl1
date: Sep. 25th, 2006 12:29 am (UTC)
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Pretty BOY. Killing without a wherefore, are we?
And a hero complex to boot. Such tender torment.

Sweet, sweet thing. You looking for a job? You looking for a life? You looking... for a girl?
Come inside and let me pet you. I'll make you forget the taste of guilt.

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