Scary Lobster Dream Saturday, Jun 7 2008 

I don’t have nightmares very often, but when I do, they’re terrifying.  Last night was no exception.

It was so brief.  I was in my room, in my bed, and all of a sudden, someone tossed a giant lobster onto the ground next to the bed.  I started screaming, and I woke up screaming.

I was half-asleep and thought that there still might be a giant live lobster in my room, so I vaulted myself out of my bed and jumped into the hallway to turn the light on.  (My lightswitch is outside the room.)  It felt like an eternity before I saw light.

I went back into my room.  No lobster, of course, but it was still terrifying.  And it was only 4:00 AM.

I looked it up on Dream Moods, the best dream decoding site on the web, and I found the following definition:

To see a lobster in your dream represents strength and persistence. You will hold your own ground and overcome minor difficulties and problems.

I don’t know.  I think I’ve just had lobster on the brain, lately.  It’s summer in New England!

I can’t wait to get up to the Maine Diner for their seafood chowder and lobster roll, which is mayo-free, and the meat is soaked in butter.

I’ve been reading Thomas Keller’s recipe for butter-poached lobster.

And I saw the following LOLcat the day before yesterday:

Stay away, scary lobsters!

Was I attacked by an incubus? Monday, Mar 3 2008 

I have never been so frightened in my adult life.

Sure, there have been nightmares.  Scary ones, too.  But what happened last night was unlike anything I have ever, ever experienced.

It began with a dream.  I was heading out to meet my sister and her Emerson friends.  (Sars and I did some filming for her Film I class yesterday, so that’s where that came from.)  It was downtown Boston, but it looked like the area outside the field house at Reading High.

Sarah was on top of the snowbank and I was at the bottom.  A van pulled up, and I knew that her friends were inside, waiting to attack me.  The van door opened.  I backed up and fell into a small sinkhole.  “Well, at least I’ll be somewhat warm in here,” I thought.  Then all of a sudden, I was getting snow stuffed into my bare neck.  It was freezing cold and I felt paralyzed — I couldn’t fight off the attackers, and it was just cold, cold, cold.

I then woke up, or fell into a half-sleep/half-dream situation.  A figure was sitting upright on my bed at about where my knees were.  At first, I thought the figure was androgynous, but I then realized it had a masculine air about it.

Keep in mind that I felt awake by this point, but my thoughts were the fluid, almost nonsensical ones of someone who had just woken up. 

I wondered who the figure was who was watching me sleep.  Maybe this was the next guy I’d be dating, I thought drowsily.  Maybe it’s my new guy, and he was hanging out downstairs with my roommates, and he came up to be with me.  Maybe my roommates found him.  I wonder if Omni is having her guy friends over again.

Then I woke up a little bit more, and I saw that the figure had flat, almost oblong eyes, short and very wide eyes, much like those you see in the Senegalese, but less yellow.  I suddenly realized that I was awake and that the figure was still here.  This was real.  I could see him move, and I could see images that looked like birds or bats flying around my room.

He leaned over me.  I squeezed my eyes shut.  I felt enormous pressure on my chest, and I couldn’t move.  I struggled to scream, over and over, but I could only let out a whimper.  I tried to scream louder so that Omni or Surina would hear me and run in and find this guy on top of me.

Then I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t get a single breath into my chest.  I felt like everything was being pushed out of me, and then it suddenly ended.

Suddenly, I could breathe and move.  I was 100% awake and aware by now, still squeezing my eyes shut, afraid to see what was in front of me.  I was beyond terrified.  I opened my eyes, and I could still see the birds or bats that were flapping around the room.  I closed my eyes again, still afraid.

I heard a growl next to my left ear, and my hands got tangled in hair that I assumed wasn’t my own.  My bed started to shake a bit.  (Granted, the bed shaking happens in this old house from time to time, but I didn’t think anyone else was running around the house.)  I started humming to scare the thing away.

The whole time, even as soon as the snow dream ended, I prayed, saying, God, please protect me, God, please protect me, over and over in my head.  I then started saying it aloud.

I am blown away by just how real this whole thing felt.  While the figure was with with me, I felt awake, but it was like a stage between dreaming and being awake.  I’ve been in that stage before, but only for fleeting moments.  This lasted for a long time.

As soon as it ended, I was absolutely positive that it was a succubus.  I know that succubi lie on top of their victims and suffocate them.  I decided to Wikipedia it and blog about it in the morning.

After researching, I learned that succubi are female figures that attack males in their sleep, while incubi are male figures that attack females.  They attack and rape their sleeping victims to derive life from their energy (or sperm, in the case of males).

These images were most popular in Medieval folklore, when unmarried pregnant women often claimed that they were attacked by succubi, but mentions of this phenomenon date back as far as ancient Mesopotamia.  (The Wikipedia isn’t that great, but check it out for the basics.)

After reading about this (and after reading some people’s lame-sounding accounts filled with sexual imagery, as if they were desperate to experience an incubus or succubus), I am absolutely positive that I was attacked by an incubus last night.  I’m never in that sleep stage.  In my dreams, I breathe underwater all the time — I’m never unable to breathe.  This had to be an incubus.

After my head cleared, I was too scared to go back to sleep, too scared to get up, too scared to turn on the light or even look at my clock.  I have NEVER been too scared to go to sleep, even when I was little.  And now I’m afraid that the incubus is going to come back.

PLEASE — I would love to hear what you have to say about this.  If you have feedback of any kind, I would appreciate it.  Thanks.

Dreaming of Romney Sunday, Jan 13 2008 

I am slightly embarrassed but amused to say that I had quite a romantic dream about Mitt Romney.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  As a lifelong Massachusetts resident, I agree with most of the people around here in saying that he was a horrible governor, messing us up in so many ways, especially financially.  In fact, he’s my second-to-last choice for president (Giuliani is still my most-hated candidate).

Romney would be a terrible president.  He’s an empty sack of hot air, delivering empty promises based on what he thinks the GOP wants to hear, and not only is he the candidate most similar to Bush, he’s the only candidate who has openly praised him.

Anyway, though, I guess you can say that he’s a handsome guy.

So, I had this dream the other night that Romney’s campaign was faltering (surprise, surprise) and he had to make himself interesting somehow, so, hey!  Why not have an affair?

The only problem, however, was that he did not want to have an affair outright.  He loved his wife too much.  Awww.

So, instead, I was nominated to be the girlfriend decoy.  He grabbed me and walked around with me, threw his arms around me, would kiss me in public, in front of everyone, and you know what?

I enjoyed it.


Oh, God.

One Wild Dream Sunday, Apr 8 2007 

I should be getting ready to go to my dad’s for Easter, but I had such a vivid dream last night, I had to share it before it leaves me.

I met a guy in a heavily wooded area — kind of like a summer camp. It was warm, and there was sunshine. This guy was REALLY cute, and blonde, surprisingly, considering that I don’t like blonde guys (even when they’re forced on me, Prague-style). He was about 5’9″ or so, had blue eyes, had a great body, had kind of spiky hair, and kind of looked like Blake Lewis from American Idol. But better. And we were doing a lot of making out in those woods….

Then suddenly I was sitting at dinner with my family, awaiting the guy’s visit. We were going away for the weekend, but I hadn’t figured out how to tell my parents yet. I kept my head down. I needed to take a shower to make myself hookup-ready, so I jumped in.

The guy arrived during that time. He came into the bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back. I screamed and threw my hands over myself. He smiled and closed it. I did a nearby shot to calm my nerves. I was genuinely freaked out, not just screaming for fun. Then he opened the shower curtain again and gave me another shot, and I blacked out.

I woke up in a hotel room in Cadon, Spain, with the guy and several of his friends, at about 3:00 PM the next day. I don’t know whether a city named Cadon exists or not, but it was purpotedly not too far from the French border and the city of Montpellier. I was disoriented and had no memory of the night before. I knew my parents had no idea where I was. I tried to get online and IM Sarah, but it wouldn’t work. Pictures kept popping up.

The guy told me that I had gone crazy and screamed at my parents the night before, then took off with him. I then realized that he had drugged me with that second shot, and I had been date raped.

I broke out of the hotel, and suddenly I was in Harvard Square. I ran as quickly as I could, trying to outrun the guy and his redheaded friend, and I ended up in a bar on Church Street (probably located around where Fire & Ice is, but it wasn’t Fire & Ice). I screamed for the bartenders to let me call the police, but they were so slow moving. I panicked. In the shadows, I could see the silhouettes of the guy and his friend, and they had somehow ended up in the back of the bar. One female bartender finally let me call, saying she already dialed 911. She seemed pretty exasperated, and said that an ambulance would be coming soon. “I DON’T NEED AN AMBULANCE, I NEED THE POLICE!!” I shrieked.

I waited for the police to pick up. Then someone answered with “Hello?”

“Is this 911?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah. What do you need?”

I didn’t believe the voice on the line. I thought that the bartender had dialed one of the guys instead of 911. I hung up and ran out of there.

It was daylight and there was snow on the ground. I ran around the square, hiding behind everything I could. I could see the redheaded guy looking for me, and I believed that I had actually gotten past him. Then I saw my friend Meredith. I screamed, “MEREDITH!” over and over until she heard me and waved. A bus pulled over, and she was getting on, so I ran on with her.

Now, we were apparently in France. The bus was tiny and white — a row of four tiny white seats in the front, and that was all there was to it. I squished behind, and the doors came out the back. There was a man and a woman driving, and Meredith sat next to them. I tried to explain everything that had happened in French, but I couldn’t figure out the word for rape.

We drove through the countryside and ended up at the school where Meredith was studying abroad in France. I looked at a map and figured that it was Thursday, I had no hope of getting back for class on Friday, so I might as well make it a long weekend and spend some time in Montpellier before getting back to Florence the old-fashioned way — by bus. Maybe I could spend some time in the Tuscan countryside, too.

That was pretty much it. There was a staircase, and though Taylor Hicks was inexplicably there, neither the rapist nor his friend were there.

And that was it.

Unbelievable dream Monday, Apr 24 2006 

I have to write about this dream before I forget it.

The earlier parts involved me trying to get a job at Pepperidge Farm and throwing parties at both Kara’s townhouse and my townhouse, while Dwight was cooking pasta on the stove. Then my parents arrived and everything changed.

I was with my parents and we couldn’t find Sarah. We went upstairs to what was her room and found her lifeless body in a bed. We were upset and went downstairs to the basement. There, I found what looked like a ghost of Sarah — she looked about four years old, and she was a red transparent figure.

I suddenly realized that if I helped her play, she would grow up. I asked her how old she was, and she wouldn’t answer. Then I saw she was playing with kid-sized cleaning brushes. “Here. How about you clean the wall with this one,” I said, handing her a brush, “and then I’ll help you clean with this one.” We played. The more we played, the bigger she grew, and we started playing more games that were appropriate to her age. As she became a teenager (and my height), I made fun of people with her.

Then the room began filling with people. Half of them were REAL ghosts who were trying to suck the souls out of people; the others were the ghosts of people that I knew, that could be saved by playing. (Also, as they played and grew older, they had a little meter on the side of their arm that would raise when they became more human.)

I tried all I could to help people play and grow older again. At one point, a little girl named Caitie (though she looked just like Sarah Lopez) said that she didn’t want to play, so I taught her and her friends how to swing dance. Five of them joined in immediately, and they started having so much fun.

Then the real dancing began. People started swirling around in some sort of waltz — I felt so little as fabric swirled around me. Then I saw Mike — and at this point I can say in my blog that this is someone who’s becoming very special to me — and I just dropped everything and danced with him, swirling with everyone else.

Then the ghosts, the REAL ghosts, started ushering people-ghosts out of this door. I knew that if they went in there, they would be gone forever. But nobody who started as a ghost had completely revived.

And then I saw CC, who was my best friend when I was young. Our friendship was volatile and it ended in probably one of the worst ways it could. We don’t speak anymore. I grabbed her and told her, “I miss you.” She started crying, and so did I. “I miss you, too — every day,” she replied.

As she said those words, the meter on the side of her arm filled all the way and got underlined in yellow. As that happened, a trunk began to appear in front of the door, preventing anyone from leaving. Everyone had been restored to their vitality in that moment, including my sister.

That was it. It was one of the most powerful dreams I’ve had in a very long time. But one thing I’m wondering — was this partially based on an episode of the old school Nickelodeon show Are You Afraid of the Dark?