I have two nights' dreams to cover.
The first one came to me on Friday morning, after I woke up around 6:30 and fell back asleep.
I dreamt of two little kids, a brother and sister, both no older than 12. I saw flashes of them playing in a mostly-empty house, and learned their story.
They used to go to a boarding school, but something happened. I don't know what. I was under the impression that it had something to do with their parents having gone missing, but later on I saw they were still around.
I saw the girl running around an empty hallway with dusty hardwood floors, wrapped in a worn, knitted blanket. It was somewhere between blue and gray, and reminded me a little of the garment that the privileged 8th grader would wear during the May Procession as "Mary," in SCIS.
The little girl was covered from top to bottom in this blanket. Underneath, she wore her pajamas, but was otherwise barefoot. The house was cold, but she and her brother were running around so much that it was all right. She ran around a wall to go into the living room, which was also empty, save for the fireplace and a small, square table beside it.
Her little brother was chasing her around the house, also barefoot. He would occasionally step on her train to tease her, and they would both laugh before she'd pull it back from under him and run away again.
There was a man involved. He was watching the children in secret when they were still in school, but then it was discovered that they were in danger. So they were taken out of school and went into hiding -- in this cold, empty house.
I saw the brother and sister again, sitting curled up in front of the empty fireplace, with the blanket draped over their shoulders. They pretended there was a fire there.
Then my view changed -- I turned around and saw a window with its mesh screen broken. The bottom corner wasn't in place, and I could feel cold air flooding in. Beyond the screen, I could see the silhouette of a man.
The children's parents were away and somehow couldn't make their way back to them. So they told them to stay out of sight, stay hidden, and to wait for their return. The parents did come back, and they brought some relatives with them. The kids were going to perform their own little production that they creatively put together while they were left alone for days.
Folding chairs were set up around the room along the walls. The rooms were still mostly unfurnished, but now there was a small TV, a radio with a long antenna, and a microphone hooked up to it somehow. A song started playing, and the girl talked over it -- there was a lot of distortion caused by the quality of the microphone and the radio, so it was hard to understand what was being said. Then the kids started acting -- they danced and ran around the room, while their relatives (all rich) sat in their chairs and smiled lovingly.
The kids pranced by the broken window -- and there was the silhouette of the man again, still in the same position as I'd seen last time.
But then he stepped forward, and I saw what his face looked like:
He had pale skin, but jet black hair -- the kind of hair that's stringy/almost-clumpy, and looks like it's wet all the time. It fell over his ears and just touched his shoulders.
His eyes were just as dark as his hair.
He had a tattoo on his face: a wide hatching, creating a net.
He stepped forward again and placed his fingers on the edge of the window. He shifted his weight, and there was a drastic change: his tattoo lined up perfectly with the screen of the window.
He looked like he didn't have any marks on his face, and I got a quick flash of his past.
He smiled a lot, and his face was clear and unblemished.
He'd never done anything seriously wrong in his life.
And he was in love with a girl.
The next thing I saw was his hand prying at the screen.
The last thing I heard was the ripping sound it made, followed by the yells and screams of all the gathered adults, and the tapping of the children's feet as they fled with their parents.
Last night's dream wasn't at all related to that.
I dreamt I was cheating on Matthew.
And I saw who I was with. It was very clear.
I was in a friend's room, and we were just hanging out, spending time together while his roommate was gone. The next thing I remember, I'm lying down on his bed and he's leaning on his elbow next to me, and ... things happened.
This was about to get unforgivably out of hand (it already was, in my mind. Which is why I did what I did next).
So he did.
"I can't do this. What am I doing.."
No response, but he got up quietly and fixed his clothes.
"I'm sorry. But I can't do this -- it's wrong."
"Uh-huh," he said a little too quickly.
He sounded upset. So I asked him why he was upset with me for doing what we both knew was right: stopping.
He turned to look at me from the far edge of his bed and said, "This always happens. It always. happens."
When I said nothing, he continued to talk about how I'm always the one who goes to him, the one who starts these things and lets them go as far as they do. And then I'm always the one to stop him when he gives in.
I didn't know what to say, because I knew it was true.
I woke up feeling guilty and dirty. I was so mad at myself for dreaming it, and then scared -- you should know I always like to think that my dreams mean something; that they come forward at night after being in the back of my mind during the day.
No, I have not cheated on Matthew.
No, I don't plan to. I don't want to.
But I don't like the fact that this dream even happened.
Hopefully, it won't happen again.