Truly Grotesque

Most of the time, I know where my dreams come from. The other day, I was planning on what I would wear to work as I fell asleep and that night, I was at work in my dream and looked down at what I was wearing and realized that it wasn't what I had planned. That's when I woke up and found out that I had slept through my alarm and should have been at work at that very moment.

But I don't know where last night's dream came from and because the images are still in my head, I must share them with you.

I dreamt that there was a group of anorexic women who were suffering from a disease that ate away the outside of their bodies, too. So in addition to being rake-thin, these women's bones, sinews, and muslces were exposed. It was all a pus-yellow color. They looked like the undead.

I was in a class that studied these women and particularly the unfair treatment they received in society. The one case study that I can remember was one girl who went to try on a prom dress at Bucovetsky's (a department store back home). While trying on a dress, she projectile vomited a lot of blood. It covered the dress she was trying on and the floor. The store manager told her that she didn't have to pay for the damage, but later in the day, called her to tell her that he changed his mind and she would have to pay for the dress that she ruined. This was supposed to prove that these women were treated differently in society.

So, so strange. I only wish I could get ride of the image of this undead, rake-thin, pus-yellow woman spewing blood in a prom dress.

11 comments:

Jordy said...

That's sick. I'm probably going to get nightmares because of it.

Stupidramblings said...

Next stop: the sanitorium...

sakhmet said...

I can't wait to see what Daltongirl comes up with for this one. She is quite The Interpreter of Dreams.

jinxidoru said...

That's interesting. "Rake-thin, puss-yellow woman" is the name of my new band.

daltongirl said...

Ah, the pressure's on . . .

Working on it. Will get back to you. I'm almost positive it will end with Cicada in a sanitorium, though. Good call, Stupid. This will increase my chances of getting to keep all items I have currently borrowed from Cidada.

Tolkien Boy said...

Ewww.

Are you still writing poetry? Because that would make a disturbingly delicious poem.

Mary said...

These women need to see Dr. Gregory House, M.D., in Plainsborough Princeton, New Jersey.

My mother, a psychotherapist, always reminds me to pay attention to what my emotions/feelings are during the dreams. Pay more attention to that than what is actually happening or being said.

I don't know you at all, Cic. But my shot-in-the-dark guess is you end up being the kind of friend/relative that advocates, cares too much, nurtures those who need it. That, and you're probably stressed out from all the life changes. That'll be 25 cents, please.

Brinestone said...

. . . and now I can't get it out of my head either. Thanks, Cicada!

Cicada said...

Ugh. Tolkien Boy, the fact that you can use "delicious" in describing the type of poem I could create from this indicates to me that I did not describe these disgusting women in gorey enough detail.

(P is for Pus-girl, decayed while alive...)

punk rock girl said...

um that blog was as scary as the grudge 2 preview...i am still sleeping with the lights on.

Th. said...

.

Well, that's pleasant.