Posts Tagged ‘blue nightgown’

Take-two Tuesday — Dreamtime: The Hanged Woman

December 21, 2010

This entry was originally posted on December 3, 2009 at 10:01 a.m. I’d originally intended for Dreamtime to be a series of entries, but writing about my dreams was so disturbing that this ended up being a one-off.

Recurring dream — I am in a bedroom with my back to the closet. I turn around and find a hanged woman in a blue nightgown.


“It’s Hard To Say That I’d Rather Stay Awake When I’m Asleep Because My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams” by inspire*dream*create on flickr

The air in the room feels thick but sounds tinny, like it does in a doublewide, you know, the way the sound and the air are different, I guess because it’s perched on a foundation poured in to the ground rather than dug in, so it’s not flush up against the earth?, and the windowsill is aluminum. She’s in front of the closet, which has a sliding door with inset slats. She’s always high enough up, on a short enough noose, that her face is angled down but very near the ceiling, and I have to tilt my head back and look up to see it. I do not know why I always have to look at her face.


“Hang’er” by Dominic Rouse. Click through to his website.

She doesn’t sway or kick or open her eyes or anything predictably horror-movie-ish like that. In a way, the certainty that she is absolutely dead and has been for some time is worse and even more uncanny than if I had got to the scene just in time for her death throes. Because I never realize right away that I’m in The Room with her, or that it has become That Dream until I turn around and see the closet, and her swollen feet and mottled legs with the blue nightgown at mid-calf.


Stock

The stultifying stillness of the trailer starts beating in my ears, this weird and distant rhythmic roaring, like living near the ocean but if all other life had been extinguished and only the water remained on earth, like the beginning of time is hurling toward me.

I wake myself up.

Dreamtime: The Hanged Woman

December 3, 2009

Recurring dream — I am in a bedroom with my back to the closet. I turn around and find a hanged woman in a blue nightgown.


“It’s Hard To Say That I’d Rather Stay Awake When I’m Asleep Because My Dreams Are Bursting At The Seams” by inspire*dream*create on flickr

The air in the room feels thick but sounds tinny, like it does in a doublewide, you know, the way the sound and the air are different, I guess because it’s perched on a foundation poured in to the ground rather than dug in, so it’s not flush up against the earth?, and the windowsill is aluminum. She’s in front of the closet, which has a sliding door with inset slats. She’s always high enough up, on a short enough noose, that her face is angled down but very near the ceiling, and I have to tilt my head back and look up to see it. I do not know why I always have to look at her face.


“Hang’er” by Dominic Rouse. Click through to his website.

She doesn’t sway or kick or open her eyes or anything predictably horror-movie-ish like that. In a way, the certainty that she is absolutely dead and has been for some time is worse and even more uncanny than if I had got to the scene just in time for her death throes. Because I never realize right away that I’m in The Room with her, or that it has become That Dream until I turn around and see the closet, and her swollen feet and mottled legs with the blue nightgown at mid-calf.


Stock

The stultifying stillness of the trailer starts beating in my ears, this weird and distant rhythmic roaring, like living near the ocean but if all other life had been extinguished and only the water remained on earth, like the beginning of time is hurling toward me.

I wake myself up.