Anyway in last night's dream, there I was walking alone in a dark street somewhere in Mizoram. Then suddenly two of my cousins came bearing down on me, asking me why I've gotten into drugs. And even though there were no drugs involved before they showed up, their question made me remember that I had bought drugs earlier on that night and immediately felt it in my jacket pocket. I threw it out while my cousins were not looking.
They threatened me in all sorts of ways that made me shake with fear and cry and shout telling them that I had never ever used drugs in my life. Never ever. And I didn't know why I had bought them that night. No one even seemed to hear anything I said.
It was a luminescent green liquid in a tiny plastic bottle by the way, the drug I'd bought. More like a fairy tale magic potion than anything else.
They kept asking me what it was that I had bought. I told them genuinely that I didn't know. Then all of a sudden these annoying cousins were gone and I was alone. I was putting my hands back in my jacket pocket and touched a piece of paper - the receipt from the drug dealer! Yes, this very nice drug dealer had written me a nice handwritten receipt :)
And I looked and guess what was written on it? There on the piece of paper was written very neatly and clearly the name of the drug I'd bought, which was...wait for it.....Whatchamacallit :-) And beautifully written too. I read it and I remember the word as well as I would have if I'd read it awake. And after 'Whatchamacallit,' the drug dealer had written within brackets - (otherwise known by it's chemical name '.....') and I can't remember that part. I just remember Whatchamacallit haha What part of my subconscious that came from I wonder!
It surely can't be the influence of books. All I've been reading in the past few days have been 'The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket' by Edgar Allan Poe, and 'whatchamacallit' is not something I think one will ever find in Mr. Poe's vocabulary.
The night before that, I was standing in a courtroom and it was me that was on trial. It was all very chaotic but it cleared up and quieted down all of a sudden. They had just announced the verdict, and I was guilty. And then someone asked the judge (who was a very, very big, stern looking black man by the way) what my punishment was going to be. He looked at me in disgust and in the most menacing and hatred-filled voice I've ever heard in dreams or in reality, spat out 'Death!'
I woke up with that word ringing in my ears and hated Mr. Foul-mood-judge because I don't get enough sleep as it is and he woke me up in the most impolite of ways and didn't even come back to apologise for it afterwards when I went back to sleep and slipped back into dreamworld :-)
(And don't try to see too much in my dreams and overanalyse them :-) You might say I'm condemning myself because of all my spiritual strife over my shortcomings, or you might say they're drug induced because a lot of people seem to think I'm still on heavy medication. Just calcium tablets people! Not strong enough to hallucinate on or kick start drug-induced stupors I would believe... :)
Dreams are fun to talk about the next day. The things your head conjures up when you set it free...isn't it just amazing? In fact I think I'm actually quite creative with my dreams even though I have nothing to do with them :P And who cares if the delightful endings are few and far between? Good movies don't always have to have happy endings. I've always liked movies that have me sobbing my heart out in the end.)