The Code Word: Fine.
If I ever was myself, I wasn't that night.
And in the second part of the dream there was a tv behind the bed and we were watching that movie about Rimbaud, the one where Leonardo diCaprio plays him. In the dream, Verlaine was played by the guy who was professor Lupin in that one Harry Potter movie.
And Aimee had the size and overall appearance of a three-year old, though I knew for a fact that she was seven, and had some magic ability to make herself appear three. She called me aside and spoke to me with the vernacular of someone with a college education. She had only a few teeth and she looked so beautiful.
The nightmare before the Rimbaud dream caused me to wake up screaming, sputtering, covered in sweat and tears, unable to shake the terrifying visions. I could scarcely breathe. I had to sit in the dimly lit living room with the cat and write it all down before I could pry the vision from the backs of my eyelids. I had no nightmare sentinel this time, there weren't any sympathetic arms to receive me. Just a casual "are you all right" and it wasn't nearly enough, and I'm trying to not feel bad about admitting that. I had one of the worst dreams of my life last night. I wasn't all right then, and really, I'm still not.
And in the second part of the dream there was a tv behind the bed and we were watching that movie about Rimbaud, the one where Leonardo diCaprio plays him. In the dream, Verlaine was played by the guy who was professor Lupin in that one Harry Potter movie.
And Aimee had the size and overall appearance of a three-year old, though I knew for a fact that she was seven, and had some magic ability to make herself appear three. She called me aside and spoke to me with the vernacular of someone with a college education. She had only a few teeth and she looked so beautiful.
The nightmare before the Rimbaud dream caused me to wake up screaming, sputtering, covered in sweat and tears, unable to shake the terrifying visions. I could scarcely breathe. I had to sit in the dimly lit living room with the cat and write it all down before I could pry the vision from the backs of my eyelids. I had no nightmare sentinel this time, there weren't any sympathetic arms to receive me. Just a casual "are you all right" and it wasn't nearly enough, and I'm trying to not feel bad about admitting that. I had one of the worst dreams of my life last night. I wasn't all right then, and really, I'm still not.
1 Comments:
At 7:20 PM,
porfiry said…
Oh, wow, I just got the meaning of the title. And it takes me back to 5th grade, and Amy Mihalovic, and the first time I was afraid of dying.
You know, throughout my (short but) adult life, I've continued to think of ways I could use fine without looking suspicious, were I to get into a less-than-desirable situation.
:)
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