this morning was no exception except the dreams i am shaking crossed well into the territory of nightmare and were more than a little heavy handed in the symbolism.
i was at a concert. outside. unspecific band {most, perhaps even all concert dreams are about thom or radiohead}. it was a single male performer, but someone newer, not as familiar though still a favorite. we were waiting for him to take stage when a band of musicians came up that had bullied their way in to the full venue. they were reckless, dissonant to the mood and willfully abusing their celebrity status.
their hair was wild. their faces pierced, shadowed and aggressive as they mocked the crowd for even showing up. what fools we were their bodies said and here i had been so happily in my place by the bar. right at the front. just where i like to be. peacefully and expectantly waiting for him to show up.
the four guys then rustled through the us striking outnd scattering the crowd on to the beach we were near. i was part of the group they started herding down the length of the beach pushing us forward with their anger and words. it was terrifying. and the worst part was that eventually our singer did appear. off in the distance i saw him at the far end of the beach both hazy in the distance and also somehow close and a part of the group that was looming over us with their threats of violence. but i could easily distinguish him by the cut of his bare chest, the line of his torso and the sunshine yellow swim shorts he was wearing. so radiant yet blurry with distance. i kept on peering down the length of beach, wondering when he would stop the violence. this was his place of power. his stage. his art. only he had the ability to change the situation and yet he stayed away.
the next section of the dream was a little more obscure and yet the connections still so clear in my head.
i was working on becoming a nanny for this family. we were somehow old friends from the past and there was this expectation that this should have been a safe and welcome place, except that it wasn't. the doorway was rigged to a contraption that only made sense in the dream but served to almost drop me on my bum while entering. the family was chaotic and in a state of disarray and my place within it somehow confusing.
then we sat down to dinner. and my spot at the table was was moved and i was given the worst seat where an additional table stored under the large one we were sitting at threatened to jab at my legs. more discomfort. more confusion.
and then the men from the last dream showed up and this time the whole family was complicit to their presence. the lead man, the tallest and darkest and by far the scariest started selecting out a goat from the herd that was in this pen visible to the whole family {the pen being conveniently attached to the dining room in that way of dreams}. he took this 10 foot long pole and pointed it at the smallest of the herd and just bullied it right out in to the center of this pen. the family rustled their acceptance, even if silently unwilling and somehow i knew that whatever was coming up next would be too horrible to sit through.
i got up from the table and started to flee but not before the beating began. i had to pass the staging area to leave and the man had already begun tearing into the goat. i both feared getting hit by the long arc of his swings and even more the damage to the little, stiff-legged with fear, goat. the look in its face as it had been selected still kills me.
as i neared the edge of the area, away from the threat of the sweeping pole, the beating accelerated and the final blow was made. without looking i felt that soft little body being broken, it's blood spilled and i sank to my knees and let out the most grief stricken wail i have ever heard. grief. powerlessness. grief. and more grief.
the tearing sound as it escaped my throat was still tangible in my mind when i woke up thirty nine minutes ago, shaken, near tears and certain it was between six and seven in the morning.
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