A couple of nights ago, I had a dream which took place in an opulent, Victorian-esque mansion (I assume it was a mansion, but I only saw certain parts of it). The two rooms I remember most clearly are the upstairs hallway and the servant's kitchen. The hallway was massive, with an absolutely colossal bay window on the right-hand side, which extended from ceiling to floor. Red carpet, yellow-tinged by a parchment sun, ran the length of the hall. Silky gossamer white curtains lined the numerous windows on the left-hand side, and they blew in the wind, caressing statues and hiding me. I hugged close to that side, hoping that its decorations would disguise my fleeing figure from those who were following me. In a fit of anger, I had attacked someone, and had stolen his consciousness from him - I do not know whether he was alive or if I had killed him, but I was running nonetheless. At the end of this grand hallway was a kitchen, in which I hid. I pressed my back up against the corner, noticing the strange material of which the floor was made - it was like a strangely flexible linoleum, with padding beneath. It was cut in a regular pattern so that the linoleum peeled back.
The hallway and the kitchen had been seen in a dream some nights prior.
Last night, I had an extensive set of dreams, some of which seemed so real, I had to spend a few minutes this morning convincing my groggy self that they were only the products of an unconscious mind. A large part of these dreams revolved around one man ... all I remember of his appearance was that he had dark eyes and long hair.
Once, when we were teasing each other (I think he was trying to cut off circulation to my ankles, for some reason), I asked him to "please stop." And he did.
When I turned around and saw him leaving, I questioned him. He said that he had to go help a friend, and I felt upset - what was I? As I walked down the sidewalk unsteadily because of my exhaustion and ankles recovering from a lack of circulation, I was determined to make it back home. A girl who goes to this school (Ali, a theatre major who was in a couple classes with me last year) appeared, and ran up to greet me. She told me why he had gone, and said that he wanted her to have the name of "purple witch."
I calmed a bit, but was still troubled. Why didn't he tell me that's what he was going to do? Did he think I had something against people of "alternate religions" ...? I began talking to Ali about how he shouldn't think that I was so close-minded ... indeed, I had many friends who belonged to a pagan organization on campus! Ali vanished somewhere along the way on the walk home, but I didn't seem to notice.
I sat down in the green armchair and curled up, facing towards the television. I was watching a movie (what, I do not recall). There were a couple of friends there, and suddenly I realized that he was sitting in the other green armchair, slightly behind me and to my left. I tried not to look at him, but later when I gave in, I realized that he had stayed - he had really stayed by me.
He then picked up a piece of clothing which was, I thought, quite ugly - red, yellow, and black. "I hope that someday someone will see that I am dedicated, honest, and true," he said, as he zipped up that plaid shirt. I looked at him, and suddenly it didn't seem so awful anymore.
[Edit - this morning while in class, I opened my eyes and saw smoke curling up from the chair up a row and to my right. I tried to figure out who put what where to make the seat burn, and then it vanished! Do I hallucinate in times of extreme tension? o_o]
I just realized the other day that my figure drawing professor hasn't spoken to me in about two weeks, not even so much as a hello. The last thing he said to me was "Well, if you want to succeed ..." I wonder if I did something to inadvertently offend him ...? This silence of his bothers me ... sure, he's not exactly the most loquacious guy on the planet, but prior to the moment I'm thinking might have tripped him up, he was actually kind of opening up to me and treating me as he did the others. Meh.
I have a portfolio of twenty drawings due on Tuesday, but I only have eleven drawings (if I include the ones which are kind of iffy and those which need some additional effort). Guess what I'm going to be doing this weekend?