… and experienced quite a lot of torture. I can’t remember certain details of each dream, but I’ll try to give you the gist of them. I also don’t know what order they were in.
I used to have this friend, and she was one of my best friends until she started doing drugs and lying about everything. We’ll call her Taylor instead of using her real name. Whenever I dream of Taylor, we’re always on good terms, but last night, it was different. The entire time, Taylor was only pretending to like me so as to lure me into a death trap.
She ended up drugging me with sleeping medication, so I was very sluggish, and my vision was blurry. I heard her say, “I hate everything about you. I hate your face, your voice, I hate your choice of music, I hate the colors you wear, and I hate how you always tell me something isn’t a good idea. I can’t take it anymore. I’ve been planning this for years.”
She was able to drag me along because I was too sleepy to fight back, though I tried, and she took a small vial that had a red and yellow striped wasp inside. Then she opened it and poured the wasp onto my hand, and it stung me twice. God, it hurt so bad. I’ve never been stung by a bee or wasp, but being allergic runs in my family, so in my dream, I started to go into anaphylactic shock. Someone else saw this and called an ambulance.
I was taken to the hospital, but the paramedics threw me into a storage room and locked the door, saying, “now you’ll endure a slow, painful death, just like Taylor planned.” So they were in on it. Somehow, I ended up escaping, and trying to find a place to hide, though I was weak, could barely breathe, and was delirious. Nurses and doctors were all trying to find me (on Taylor’s orders), and when one did, he picked me up and carried me to a room. He lay me on a hospital bed and injected me with something, right in my chest. Slowly, breathing became impossible, and everything went black.
The next one I remember was that I was the “friend” of a very wealthy woman with long, scarlet hair. Apparently, her husband was planning to kill her, but little did he know, she was planning to kill him and all her friends, including me. I found this out, and the other women were running around, trying to hide from this maniac, but I decided to beat her at her own game. She thought she was hunting us, but I was hunting her.
When she was closing in on one of the girls, another girl stabbed her with a katana. The wealthy woman somehow fused with the katana, and her entire right arm became a giant blade. She killed all of her friends easily, except for me, who was watching from the attic. I kicked a box to make noise, and then I hid behind a different one. The sound attracted the woman, and she came up to look for me, searching the area the sound came from. This gave me a chance to climb down the attic ladder.
Her husband met me, and he said, “I never knew she had it in her! I wanted to kill her because she seemed so weak and useless, but this is great!”
“You do know that I’m going to slaughter that bitch, right?” I growled, and he punched me in the face, I recoiled and ran down the hall as he said, “hunny! The last one is down here!” So they came chasing after me, but I was far enough ahead that I could slip into a bathroom and hide. They ran right past. I searched the bathroom and found a pair of cuticle clippers. Then I heard the woman say, “I’ll check our bedroom, you check the kitchen!” This was my chance.
While the woman was looking under her bed, I slipped in, closed the door, and locked it. She jumped up, frightened, as her katana arm had gone back to normal, and she had no weapon. My weapon was pathetic, but still useable. She backed away from me with a nervous smile on her face.
“You know I was just kidding, right?” she said with a laugh. “I was going to kill my husband so that you and I could have the money all to ourselves!”
“I have a hard time believing that,” I told her, advancing.
“And what if I’m telling the truth, huh? You’d kill a perfectly honest person!” she begged.
“I’m willing to risk it.” I lunged at her and stabbed her jugular with the clippers, but just to be safe, I continued jabbing it into multiple areas of her throat. She finally went silent, her body still.
I managed to escape, but soon, I had helicopters after me. The husband has discovered his wife’s body, and he called the police, saying I was the one who killed all of her friends, and then her. I got shot in the shoulder, but still managed to steal a motor boat and try to make my getaway.
I thought I was safe after a few hours when I swiftly took a different direction and threw the police off. I then hid in a cave until everything was silent, and then carefully made my way to the next town. However, the husband had been hiding on the dock, so when I got out of the boat, he tackled me and beat be to death with his fists.
This next one involved the most torture. I was working for the Yakuza, a brand new member, and the boss intended to use me for paperwork and computer stuff. However, he found out how ruthless I was because of my lack of empathy for people, so he pulled me aside.
“How do you feel about death?” he asked. “Are you scared of it?”
“No,” I replied, because for some reason, I was fluent in Japanese.
“What about corpses, do they bother you?”
“No.” He led me to this small pool that had two corpses laying in the water, both decently composed. Naturally, I thought it was pretty cool. He introduced me to another member.
“This is (we’ll call him Taro). He’s responsible for disposing of ‘problems.’ However, we feel he’s a bit too soft for the job, so I want you to help him.” The boss handed me a paper grocery bag, and it was heavy, and wiggling slightly. “Get rid of this. I expect the job to be done by the time I get back. You have five minutes.”
Not knowing what was in the bag, I tipped it over the pool, and a baby fell into the water. It started crying and struggling, and Taro whimpered. Without any feeling, I placed my hand on the baby’s face and pushed it under the water. Taro didn’t move. I turned to him and said, “well? Help me.” He whimpered again, and slowly put his hand under the water, helping me keep the baby under.
“I don’t like this…” said Taro, “I’ve never disposed of a child before…”
“Oh, stop being a pussy,” I told him calmly. When the baby stopped moving, I stood back and wiped my hand on my shirt. Taro was shaking and wringing his hands.
“I can’t believe I agreed to this… I’m such a horrible person…” he said, tears in his eyes. A combination of left over thrill from killing the baby, and my hatred of people took me over. I wanted to do a little experiment. I walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder.
“Yes, you are,” I said kindly. “You’ve always been a horrible person, even when you were just a baby, like the one we just drowned. You don’t choose your destiny, Taro, it chooses you.”
“I don’t like being a killer!” he cried, sounding like a scared, helpless child.
“We all have to do things we don’t like,” I said. “Boss was right, you are soft. You should feel terrible for how much of a coward you are. If you’re a terrible person, you should just accept it. If you can’t, you might as well kill yourself, because you can’t change. There’s no going back, no fixing what you’ve done. You can’t change your destiny.”
By the time the boss came back, Taro was carving into his wrists and chest with a box cutter, and I was just watching him. Boss called for a few other members, and they quickly tried to wrestle the cutter away from him, but he was very determined to hurt himself as much as possible. There was blood everywhere. The boss turned to me, fury on his face.
“What did you say to him?!” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I replied.
“Yes you did, you little cunt! Come over here and tell him something to fix this! Stop him!” Though I didn’t want to, I told Taro that I was just kidding around with him, and that he should stop cutting. He did so, but he didn’t look happy about everything that had just happened. Then the other members seized me.
“What are you doing?” I snapped, trying to pull away. “I stopped him, didn’t I?”
“You’re too dangerous,” said the boss. “Too ruthless, even for the Yakuza. If you literally feel nothing toward us as human beings, how can we trust you? How do we know you won’t try to kill us?”
“I won’t, okay? Just let me go,” I said exasperatedly.
“I don’t think so,” said the boss. “I want to make you feel the pain you just caused Taro.” They all took box cutters and began replicating the injuries that Taro caused himself. It was absolute agony, but I accepted that they were going to kill me. I weakly told Taro to come closer as they were cutting into my chest. He did so, and I hissed at him.
“You’re still a worthless coward.” Then I grabbed his wrist where there was a huge slash, which was bleeding freely, and I started sucking on it, drinking the blood. I did that until they finally killed me, and everything went black.
Then it changed to another animal hoarding dream.
That was the most physical pain I had ever felt while dreaming. I’ve been having violent dreams for a few months now, but usually, I dominated them instead of being brought down. I’ve also never killed a baby before. I’ve killed children, but never a baby. I don’t think the most advanced dream interpreter could tell me what that means.
Just for the record, I’d never actually kill a baby.