Work
11/28/00
Work is work is Work.
Weird dreams.
The Godfather of Vino Visited Me and Sent Me A Message Only, I need an interpreter. After having a glass of 1998 Francis Ford Coppola Claret, I went to bed last night and slept fitfully. Until this morning.
In the early morning hours, this disturbing dream molested me. Very tactile and sensory rich.
With my eyes closed (I couldn’t open them or I would die) I could feel someone’s thumb pressing hard on my throat and the edge of a heavy sharp knife underneath my chin. In my dream, I whispered some prayers and the apparition, the wraith, the physical incarnation of death, whatever it was, it evaporated. I’ve been going through the whole day thinking I’ve somehow narrowly escaped death.
The whole day I’ve been kind of antsy, nervous about stepping off of curbs, driving into work, and walking outside. I hesitated about even leaving for work this morning. Is that wierd?
Most of my dreams tend to be visual, cinematic where I can see and experience my dreams from a floating and invisible perspective. In this dream, I was anchored to my body and I couldn’t see. I could only feel the fingers around my neck and the thumb pressing slowly down into my throat. There was a chill in my skin as I felt the cold steel underneath my chin. Instead of panic in the dream, I remained calm, breathed slowly, and murmured words to God and Christ. How odd that my dream self could be more calm around the incarnation of death and the daytime self can be spooked from figments of my subconscious.
Min Jung
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