Sunday, Sept. 04, 2005 - 06:30

Hello gentle Reader.

Guess it is somewhat timely, given that today is Father’s Day, that I should wake this morning from a dream concerning my Dad.

I found myself wandering down the darkened hallway of my apartment, towards the bedrooms. When almost at the end of the hallway, I discovered Dad curled up, asleep, on the floor, just near my bedroom door. Oddly, he was wearing only a pair of briefs (which was disturbing in itself).

He stirred from his slumber at my approach, and quickly rose to his feet and greeted me, somewhat sleepily. I was amazed to realise that my Dad was only in his early 30’s.

“Dad…? What are you doing here…?” I asked.

“Protecting you from her…” he said, and he turned slightly, towards the closed door of the toilet.

I knew instinctively that by ’her’, Dad was referring to my Mother. Following his gaze, I could see cracks of eerie orange and yellow light emanating from beneath the door of the toilet, indicating someone was in there; presumably my Mother.

Although neither Dad nor I could see into the toilet, I had a sense of what lay behind the door; the room itself had been transformed; it was much larger than it is In Real Life, with walls, ceiling and a floor that stretch up and out for as far as the eye can see. I was also aware that the walls, floor and ceiling were lined with some kind of gelatinous, fleshy substance – indeed, they had become living things and an extension of my Mother, who was hidden within.

There was also a sense that the air within the room was dank and dripping with noxious fumes – poisonous to breathe.

“I won’t let her near you again,” Dad said, sounding grim and determined.

“It’s ok, Dad,” I assured him. “I’m grown up now – I can take care of myself.”

He looked at me with sad eyes, not seeming to realise or see that I was not the little boy he – at the age Dad appeared to be – knew.

“You need looking after, mate,” he said.

… At which point, I woke up.

There was a second dream; the one that I’ve not long awakened from. It began mundanely enough. I am sitting in the living room and then Simon appears at the doorway, leading down to the hallway.

“Jay…?”

I turned from my place at the sofa and saw him standing there. Something was wrong; I sensed he shouldn’t be there and a cold anxiety filled me with a curious trembling sensation.

“Have you seen the cats?” I asked him.

“Don’t worry about the babies,” Simon said, employing the nickname he often used for them: ’the babies’ or ’our babies’. “There’s someone you need to meet,” he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We wandered down the length of the hallway, towards the bedrooms, and my unease grew with each step. There seemed something so familiar about all of this… and I could not shake the feeling that there was something ‘not right’ with Simon.

He stood outside my bedroom door, where I joined him. With a slight nod of his head, he indicated that I go on in ahead. So I stepped past him and into my room.

I found myself confronted by a grisly vision; my own rotting corpse, laid out on the bed, dressed in the clothes I wore that day. My 3 cats – Taylor, Tiggy and Parker - were perched around me, wailing like grieving children… and that was the point at which I woke up.

<< - >>

Hit Me! & Clix Me!

All original images & written content are
Copyright Jay Kerin

< ? Screen Dream # >