Night Trip

Dream Log 1

Time: 12:38 Date: 12/5

My dreams start off as pleasant. A field of flowers for instance, I took a stroll through it. I had no clothes on, but only wore a flower crown on my head. There was a cool breeze, and my face was warm.

I looked up at the ball of flame high in the sky. I closed my eyes and felt a trickle on my face. Could it be raining I thought? A warm shower? I brought my hand to my face and brushed it off. My hands were transparent.

Re opening my eyes, I look at my hands, they're covered in blood. Was this the warmth I was feeling? I brush my hand on my face again, more blood. I looked around at the flower field, it remains the same. Nothing's changing about it.

I reached up to touch my flower crown. My hands were pricked, I took it off seeing it had grown thorns. Why thorns? Not another blossom? It could've changed colors, it could've gave me a magical ability, a green thumb. But instead it grew thorns. Perhaps I'm overthinking it.

The blood began dripping off my hands and landed on the ground. Strangely, the ground did not absorb it. I'm aware different types of soil are able to absorb some liquids, but it seemed strange that my brain would choose a specific kind of soil. There are flowers in the field I had never seen before.

I dropped the flower crown on the ground. I walked away from it, and headed into the direction of the moon. The Sun shedding light over the field was now the Moon. A shiny silver sphere, almost appearing to be glass. I reached to touch it.

My hand went through, as if the sky were the surface of a pool. My hands came out clean and uncovered of blood. For some reason, I feel that I need to go back for the flower crown. Perhaps I felt self conscious of my nudity, that crown was the only thing I was wearing.

Walking back to see those white stained petals, I cautiously picked the crown back up. The flowers were shriveled, crunchy, and the thorns remained. Remembering what had happened I went back to touching my forehead, it wasn't bleeding. In fact I couldn't feel a single wound.

Surely it was my blood.

I look at my surroundings (I'm quite astounded of how I could see so well). The entire field was asleep. No flower was awake. The blood drops were still there, as if it just had recently fallen. It didn't dry up, didn't soak into the ground, it's crimson rich color and drops were the same.

I decided it was time I'd make a new flower crown. I plucked a few flowers, and began weaving. My hands were bleeding. The crown was becoming full of thorns. These flowers, the pinks, yellows, purples, reds, blues, were drained to white.

I ran through the field, making a crown, one after the other. The flowers shriveling up.

It seemed time was sped up.

By the time I was done, there was nothing but a lake of red, and flower crowns with shriveled flower afloat.

The blood began rising, at a fast rate till I was drowning in it.

That's when I awoke. Middle of the night. I will now proceed to go back to sleep.