I have to say that you are a very encouraging lot. Thank you for all the support. You are, really, the best. What can I do in return? Publish the things I write, strange and weird. Here is a story (note my choice of words, here). Be kind to yourselves.
'It is strange how you dream.'
'Well, yeah, that's true.'
'Sometimes you don't know where your mind wanders in the night, or why.'
'I gather you have had some weird dream.'
'Won't you tell me?'
'Something tells me I shouldn't.'
'But some other part says you should?'
'Yes, I did mention it, didn't I?'
'It was terrible.'
'I was in this city and it was dark. Or maybe I just saw it. Anyway, I had this sense of danger or like if there was a disaster happening. Perhaps it was war and the city was being sacked. There were fires and light so I could see quite clearly.'
'Light and dark, dreams are strange.'
'Well, this was more or less a sensation, a mood, or something, or a part of the dream that I have forgot. I remember the rest much better. I am not sure it was me or if I just saw her, but there was this girl, not like a young girl, more like a young woman. She was slender and thin and very fair, almost pale. I think it was me, or I became her, later. I don't remember. There was a crowd gathered and they stood around her...or me. She was being held by these men. And they were like black clad, in leather jackets and boots and that sort of thing. They didn't look like soldiers but somehow I knew that it was they who were sacking the city or whatever it was that was happening. In front of her was this man, also dressed in black, he was quite young, had long dark hair, looked like a rocker or goth or whatever it is called.'
'Whatever! He looked at the girl, woman, and had this terrible grin on his face and in some way I knew she was the enemy, a spoil from the plunder or had done something terrible according to the man in black. He made this sign with his hand, quite elaborate and strange and although I can almost see it before me, still, I can't tell you what he did.'
'The men holding her grinned in response and began tugging at her clothes. She was dressed in red shorts and a striped tank top. When I think of it now, this is weird, the modern clothes. I got the impression that it was some ancient city being conquered but the clothes were modern. Anyway, they tugged at her clothes and made clear they wanted her to take them off. She looked around and saw that there was no escape, then I slipped my top off. They all looked at me. The leader, the man in black, made another sign and I was dragged backwards and thrown on the ground, on my back. There was this wooden beam I was held down onto and my hands were pulled out. And then, this is really horrible, they brought big nails, like those you see in museums, that are made by hand, by some smith. Then they nailed her arms to the wood, like if she was being crucified. I remember seeing her bend her back, in agony. But it didn't hurt.'
'No, I remember no pain, but it was horrible, all the same, like some kind of terrible fear or anxiety cutting through my body. The worst thing was that she was beautiful, in a way, something about her arching body, her outstretched arms and her agony was weirdly beautiful...beautiful but terrible.'
'Grim is the word, it was like some dark horror painting, with me in the middle of the darkness, all pale and white and being nailed to the crossbar of a cross. The beam was lifted and I was pulled backwards to some great pole or pillar, the cross. There was a strange silence in the crowd but I had this sense of animals, of predators licking their lips, eager to watch, but also full of pity and anger.'
'Yes, some kind of pity, that kind of pity that almost enjoys it.'
'Perhaps, I don't know. Then came the harsh bit. I had to be lifted and they had ropes and ladders and it was a lot of people around me. And when the girl was hoisted in the air, she cried out. There was a bit of panic, as if she couldn't believe she would be able to hang from her arms, her nailed wrists. Still there were no pain, no proper pain.'
'Haven't thought of it, maybe it doesn't happen in dreams?'
'What doesn't happen?'
'Perhaps. She was lifted and she was hanging from her arms. The crowd didn't cheer, but there was this sense of a wave going through it, a kind of awe or fascination, as they saw her breast heave in agony. Then I was hanging there, overlooking the crowd and I remember looking down on my body, thinking of those red shorts. Remember, I was dressed only in those shorts and they were quite small, not extremely small but I felt them to be tiny. For some reason, that seemed to be more on my mind than having my wrists penetrated by nails, that I was almost naked, that everyone could now look at me, on display, so to speak.'
'Stranger things happen in dreams.'
'They do. There was this weird sensation in me, as if this terror, this agony, this horrible thing happening to me, was, somehow, also satisfying. Maybe satisfying is the wrong word, maybe it touched something in me, that wasn't just horrible, something that, somehow liked it.'
'You weren't crucified for real, dreams are symbolic.'
'I know, but it didn't feel symbolic while I was there. But as I was hanging there, feeling looked at, ogled and exposed to this horror, I thought how utterly helpless I was. If someone wanted to do something to me, I could no longer defend myself. I hadn't thought that thought to the end before the guards came up to me and reached out for me. I was suddenly terribly scared they would take my shorts. This was something I really didn't want to happen. They reached for me and unbuttoned the shorts and I remember sighing in frustration. The crowd was silent, as if it was holding its breath. Then the guards yanked my shorts down from my hips and there was a giant sigh and I whimpered. Strange thing, that I heard myself whimper! Or maybe it was me hearing the girl whimper, I don't know? Anyway, shorts were removed and she was naked, I was naked. And somehow this seemed to be the worst humiliation of them all, that I was denied the last item of clothing. And yet, there was a kind of surge in me, as if I found this exciting, arousing or something.'
'Not so strange.'
'I think it is strange.'
'Naked on a cross, in a symbolic way, it can be sexual.'
'I suppose. Then they nailed my feet to the cross and I could see in the body of the girl, that it hurt. Then something happened that was like in a film. The sound seemed to disappear and I began to see the cross from a distance. I clearly saw the naked girl on the cross, the girl who was, or had been, me. And there was like a circle around her, a circle of black clad people, with torches and banners and then I think I woke up.'
'Why do I dream such things? Why does it happen like that?'
'Why should you worry? You weren't crucified for real, it was a dream, it didn't happen and it was just an image.'
'It was scary.'
'Scary and nice, yeah.'