I had done something. I don't know what it was, but something bad in Mark's and my relationship. Only it wasn't Mark. And I was really me, althought it didn't look like me. Mark was Mark, but he didn't look like Mark - he was younger, thinner, kind of scrappy, and had most of his hair shaved off. The light was eery in the room, like when there's a thunderstorm and the lightning keeps hitting, except the lights were out, and there was a continuous lightning bolt. The windows must have been open with billowy drapes, because I think I remember wind and the drapes blowing in towards the rooms.
He came out me and surprised me. He said "Maybe you..." and I don't recall how he finished the sentence. He then threw what appeared to be paint pan at me, meant to hit me hard enough in the head that it would kill me, but it didn't. But he was ready. He then said "And maybe you...", again I don't remember how he finished the sentence, but this time the paint pan had some punch to it, as it had extra weight of some sort attached to the bottom. Somehow I remember him walking towards me, and him saying "Oh no, now it's going to hit me.....!", and it did as it bounced back towards him. I looked, and he lay there with his eyes wide open, a big bruise on is face, his eyes glassy, looking towards the ceiling. Again, this wasn't really Mark - it wasn't HIM, but it was supposed to be him. I was relieved I was still alive, and I cried a tiny bit and stood up to pick up the receiver of an old time wall phone and dial 9-11. I called them, then turned around, and he was gone.
It was as if I was dreaming the movie Halloween, only I was being hunted by Mark for some freakish reason I don't know.
He came at me again, throwing things at me. He tried three more objects, and again I managed to dodge them, and we were both okay. For some strange reason, I than began looking for ground coffee that I could purchase, but I wanted one that we would both like - his, strong and bold, and for me, an added taste of vanilla.
He caught me off guard. I was leaning against the bed, and he started his litiny and beginning of objects. This time, the third object was a freakish example of a chainsaw, and as it turned towards me at an angle, I realized I probably couldn't dodge this one and he was going to be successful in killing me and then...
I woke up with my heart pounding, and lump in my chest, and so frightened that I didn't know if I should scoot closer to him, or not. Even closer to him, it still left my back unattended to and vulnerable, do you ever feel like that when you're so scared?
I came downstairs to write about my nightmare, and I never realized how many windows we have that don't have shades. Either they are in places that cannot have shades, or they are pulled up partway, or something is keeping them from completely blocking all outside view. I was keenly aware of this, as I am now aware of every sound, and that I cannot see what is directly behind me. I keep looking behind me to see if anything is there, and see the backdoor with the glass window that is simply clear glass, not shaded.
I haven't had a nightmare in such a long time, and it's very bizarre to have one about Mark. I don't know that I ever have had one.
I wonder why...but it's also so much easier to analyze in the morning.
Now I just have to climb back up those stairs and get back into bed and convince myself that no one is going to kill me, ever, especially the person sleeping with me in bed.
Why was he so mad at me? Was it my last blog entry?