Gospel of the Leper Messiah/The Landlord Taketh Away

This dream played out like a movie I was watching. It was a horror film starring Jennifer Lawrence.

The villain was the Leper Messiah.

(It's apparent where my subconscious pulled this from.)

The Leper Messiah looked exactly like Hans Baldung's depiction of Death from his paintings The Three Ages of Man and Death/The Three Ages of Woman and Death.

(The only difference is the Leper Messiah had ice blue eyes.)

The Leper Messiah carried with it two enormous rusted screws — one a straightforward screw, the other a screw-in hook.

I remember none of the plot details of this dream expect one: the Leper Messiah fastening a silver crucifix bearing its image instead of Jesus' around J-Law's neck.

* * *

My sister and I were visiting one of her friends at his home. Instead of being where it is in reality, it was located on a cove, and he was leasing the property. The three of us were inside his house, playing on his N64. Deciding to take a break, I left to go for a walk. While wandering about, I collected points, as if I was in a video game.

I eventually made my way to the mainland, where I met my sister's friend's satanic landlord. He looked exactly like Ray Wise.

He wore a goatee, and his nails were long and manicured, coated with black nail polish. I don't really remember the details of our conversation, but he mentioned something about signing contracts in blood.

The two of us walked back to the cove. Once there, the landlord demanded his tenant sign a new contract or face immediate eviction. My sister's friend acquiesced, calling his landlord a "Pentecostal Catholic". Grinning, the landlord took out an enormous bound copy of the Vestus Latina dating back to the 4th century, wanting to sign the contract within its pages. As the landlord began signing his name with a fountain pen in regular ink, I suggested he use his blood instead. Agreeing, the landlord set the pen aside and slit open his palm with out of his claw-like nails, scrawling his signature in his own blood. The dream ended abruptly there.

Hotel Kraken/The Insecticidal Jedi/War of Gnostic Aggression/Voodoo Jambalaya

I decided to walk to Alaska.

(Which in this dream world was only 14 KM north of my town of residence.)

After reaching Alaska, I eventually decided to go back home. I figured the best way back was to swim the entire lake which stretched between Alaska and my home. However, soon after swimming a little ways, I found a massive crevice had opened up in the lake bed and the entire lake was slowly but steadily emptying, the water swirling down like in a giant sink.

Figuring these waters were too treacherous to continue navigating, I swam back to Alaska and booked a room at a lakeside hotel. As it turns out, this hotel was built atop a large kraken which was inhabiting the lake.

As the lake continued draining, the kracken was sucked down into the Earth. I escaped, but not without banging my head on the jagged rock of the crevice the lake was draining into.

* * *

It was winter. The family had discovered a load of young kittens half-frozen somewhere outside. As my sister and father were bringing them in, I attempted to play with them. At this point, they'd spent their formative weeks without much human interaction, so they were already distrustful and half-feral, though some were tamer than others. Funnily enough, they'd made friends with a small baby mouse and a fuzzy little insect. Also, there was a Jedi with a chartreuse reverse mullet helping bring the kittens in. 

Upon discovering the insect, he slowly and sadistically crushed it under his boot, despite my desperate pleas to spare it. Enraged, I picked the Jedi up and broke his back over my knee.

* * *

I travelled through time and space to the Antebellum South. Once I got there, I visited a park. I started talking to the folks there about the Gnostic gospels, explaining that most were lost/existed in fragments 'cause they'd been suppressed by the religious authorities of the time. This pissed off many of them, and they sent for guards.

(The guards wore heavy 18th century dresses of red, gold-embroidered fabric.)

They began torturing me, with one jamming the end of his musket over my right middle finger, firing straight through my arm and out my elbow.

As one guard levelled his musket at me to end me, I wrenched it out of his hands and beat him to death with it. Seeking escape, I hid under the skirts of a group of slave childen who were disguised as a guard within one of the heavy red dresses. They then smuggled me out of there.

* * *

A boy in his late teens/early twenties entered into a relationship with an older man's wife. The man found out about the affair. Being both a Vodou bokor and a damn good cook, he whipped up a pot of cursed jambalaya. Cornering the younger man in an alley, he scooped some jambalaya out of the pot and forced the kid to eat it.

I know there was more to the dream than that, but I don't remember the rest.

Phantasms of a Bereaved Orphan

Some context for this dream. On 1 February, 2019 my father passed away after a short battle with cancer. On 11 of last month, after over two years of chronic hospitalization, my mother passed away from complications with COPD.

* * *

I was asleep in my bed when I felt a presence with me. Opening my eyes, I found the spirit of my father sitting over me, 25-30 years younger than he'd been when he passed. Calmly, with much affection in his eyes and voice, he told me he'd been dwelling in Bethlehem, that he'd been sent to watch over the family. He then vanished into thin air. I was elated by this news, but that elation didn't last long; I quickly realized something was amiss. The way he'd referred to Bethlehem was as if it was a spiritual plane, which it clearly isn't. But the biggest glitch in the matrix was my mother still being alive, which I knew was wrong. At this point I realized I was dreaming and woke up.

Except I hadn't woke up. It was a false awakening. Then I woke up. Except I didn't. Then I woke up. But I still hadn't. I was trapped in a cycle of false awakenings, one quickly sequeing into the next.

I emerged from the cycle. Getting out of bed, I went outside. In my mother's garden, she and my sister were hosting a party with a group of 5-6 people. I can't remember who all the guests were.

(Barbara Hershey and Vincent van Gogh are the only two I'm certain about.)

I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all.

I approached my mother. She was 35-40 years younger than she had been. I tried making conversation with her, but she didn't seem to notice me; she only stared into the distance, face expressionless.

The number of guests suddenly doubled or tripled in size. Now among the attendees was Tara Reid, wearing a bulky bodysuit of cabbage leaves. I took her in my arms and started peeling her leaves away, eagre to uncover her body. However, once I peeled the last of the leaves away, I found nothing but a transparent membrane containing green protoplasm and organelles undernearth. Without the leaves to provide rigidity, her head came clean off her shoulders, killing her.

Then I emerged from the cycle. I went into the kitchen, over to the sink, and standing there, looked out the window. The layout beyond was radically different than I knew it to be; in reality, where a long unpaved driveway surrounded on each side by empty fields are, were two pristine homes with neat lawns directly facing mine. My sister, with her friends Todd & Dave, were fleeing one of these properties in a hurry. Tripping and falling, she transformed into Dave, Dave transforming into a third man I'd never met before. I hadn't emerged from the cycle after all. Entering the home, Todd, nuDave, and Man #3 headed towards the basement. As I approached them, Todd introduced us; it was Alice Cooper.

Then I emerged from the cycle.

Sometimes an Androgyne is Just an Androgyne/Jane Seymour, Orson Krennic, & Inigo Montoya Walk Into a Mansion ...

I was a disembodied entity travelling through a living cityscape straight out of an M. C. Escher print.

Inhabiting this cityscape were mouthless, legless semi-humanoid beings which somewhat resembled the robot from the Looney Tunes short Robot Rabbit.

Playing through the air was music I can only describe as "synthwave jazz".

Then I found myself within an infinite corridor similar to the one from Escher's Another World (Other World Gallery).

In each partition of the corridor were two persons — one unique individual, each with their own particular neurosis, and one identical matronly woman in horn-rimmed glasses discussing Freudian/Jungian psychology. I found myself in the "alpha chamber", the only chamber with three walls; on that wall behind me hung a poster with a pictographic representation of an infinite corridor. I was inhabiting the body of a bald, ugly, stoop-shouldered man with an irresistible compulsion to kiss the hand of every woman he came across. After he/I forcibly kissed the hand of my matron, she showed him/me a card. On the card was a drawing of an androgyne. Unable to process the male/female aspects of the drawing, he/I froze, incapable of any action.

The dream probably would've continued, but I was rudely awakened. 😦

* * *

I was in a forest. My sister gave me a marijuana brownie. After eating it, I quickly grew anxious, as she'd made it with sativa. After telling her she should cultivate some indica strains, I wandered off into the woods with my girlfriend, Jane.

(Literally Jane Seymour)

We were both wearing 19th century clothing; she had on a heavy dress with a bonnet, me a black suit with a string tie. I hugged her close to me as we walked through the woods together, all lovey-dovey.

We soon emerged in a clearing, where we found a prodigious white Antebellum mansion.

We went inside. The interior was entirely pristine, completely uninhabited.

As we prepared to settle down in our new home, we went to the open front door and peered outside. Coming towards us was Orson Krennic, with him a mob of ornery white Southerners.

They swarmed into the house before we could get away, apprehending us. I believe they fully intended on lynching us. Before they could, Inigo Montoya came to our aid, running one of the blackguards through on his sword.

I really wish I remembered how the dream ended. Jane and I escaped, at any rate.