Insatiable Love for the Dead
I had an interesting dream last night that I thought was interesting enough to share.
So, this portion of the dream started with me living in an apartment with a couple of girls around my age. It was a nice apartment--we were very lucky to have found it. Everything was clean and tidy, and we all had our own rooms and lived our own lives around each other. There was something wrong with this apartment, though: it was haunted by an extremely violent ghost.
This ghost would give very violent and gruesome shows--one was of a young teenage boy slamming himself into the wall until his brains burst all over the room. The ghost would also move things around, hurling them at passers by, and slam doors. It got to the point that both of my roommates eventually moved out from exasperation and fear of the ghost. Once they had left, I began to try and find ways to make the ghost happier and less violent. I went through a lot of different people who dealt with ghosts, but none of the options seemed to know what to do.
I came to the conclusion that I would have to tear the place down--the apartment was no longer an apartment, it was a full on mansion. I was walking through the halls and thinking about it's destruction when I found a room I hadn't approached for years. I opened the door and stood in the doorway as I took in the dusty contents of the room--it had been my special place a long time ago. It had been a special place given to me by a past lover who had died. In that moment, I realized that the ghost was my past lover and that I couldn't tear the mansion down because it would break his heart. I knew that I would have to put up with his temper tantrums because I loved him and didn't want to leave his presence, despite his being dead.
It was a very odd dream, and I have several different interpretations of it; but it's been so strong on my mind all day that I thought it would be important to write a blog about it.
So, this portion of the dream started with me living in an apartment with a couple of girls around my age. It was a nice apartment--we were very lucky to have found it. Everything was clean and tidy, and we all had our own rooms and lived our own lives around each other. There was something wrong with this apartment, though: it was haunted by an extremely violent ghost.
This ghost would give very violent and gruesome shows--one was of a young teenage boy slamming himself into the wall until his brains burst all over the room. The ghost would also move things around, hurling them at passers by, and slam doors. It got to the point that both of my roommates eventually moved out from exasperation and fear of the ghost. Once they had left, I began to try and find ways to make the ghost happier and less violent. I went through a lot of different people who dealt with ghosts, but none of the options seemed to know what to do.
I came to the conclusion that I would have to tear the place down--the apartment was no longer an apartment, it was a full on mansion. I was walking through the halls and thinking about it's destruction when I found a room I hadn't approached for years. I opened the door and stood in the doorway as I took in the dusty contents of the room--it had been my special place a long time ago. It had been a special place given to me by a past lover who had died. In that moment, I realized that the ghost was my past lover and that I couldn't tear the mansion down because it would break his heart. I knew that I would have to put up with his temper tantrums because I loved him and didn't want to leave his presence, despite his being dead.
It was a very odd dream, and I have several different interpretations of it; but it's been so strong on my mind all day that I thought it would be important to write a blog about it.
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