I never have dreams at night, not that I can remember. But last night I had one, and it was terrible – possibly caused by some of the stress of the week, or perhaps just straight from my somewhat crazy subconscious. This is what I dreamed.
Ian and I were in our apartment; the place looked completely normal, exactly as it always is. Some of Ian’s friends came by so he went out with them. As they left I heard a strange clicking noise which I could not identify. Intrigued, I went out to investigate and found Ian with his friends sitting outside on some benches smoking. Naturally I was horrified and demanded that Ian stop smoking (I’d never known he smoked in the first place): he refused, quite vehemently. Eventually he did stub out that cigarette at my repeated exhortations, but that only got us into a terrible fight, the worst we’d ever had. We went back inside, shouting and yelling furiously at each other, I hurt and demanding he never smoke again, he angrily replying that it was only one a day and he’d been doing it for years. Of course this hurt me more because I had no idea, and neither did anybody else in his family.
Inside everything was different, but this didn’t bother me at the time. The major change was we walked into an open foyer area with a long, tall staircase leading up from it. The stairs had a bend in them rather like the ones at my house, where you walk up a few stairs, then turn 180 degrees and walk up the rest of them. We ascended the stairs, and as we reached the top (still quarreling passionately) Ian grabbed me and threw me down them. I flew through the air – bear in mind that the farther I went the farther away the ground was because the stairs descended the direction he threw me – and hit the wall. Of course I fell down and was badly injured (I went into shock, I suppose, or the dream-part of this experience kicked in, because I could not tell what was injured, only that I had been badly hurt); Ian never even looked back, but just walked down the hall from the top of the stairs.
I woke up after hitting the ground, basically, and was really horrified and scared. The whole dream felt quite real; Ian and I have had some awful fights, and this wasn’t too much worse than any of those. Also Ian has hidden things from me before (namely playing Game), so I know he might do something like that if he felt that I wouldn’t like his actions/choices. When I went back to sleep I dreamed that I blogged my experience (I’d planned to do so when I woke up, so that was quite natural) and found, in the morning, 34 comments; among them, Ian ranted furiously against me and said that he would continue smoking no matter what. I woke up again and it was middle-early morning but I have no desire to try to sleep any more. Such real dreams, however ridiculous they may sound, are very uncommon for me, and to have one which culminates in my husband throwing me down stairs…
I think I may make myself some French toast or pancakes and try to remember that it was just a dream (so real!).
– KF –