Dreams and childhood memories

I watched a horror movie before I went to bed last night. Well, really, I just had it on while I was doing other things so I wasn't fully paying attention to it. Also, it was a movie I'd seen before so not all that scary or suspenseful. Despite all these things, I still had a bad dream this morning.

The dream started off with me as a kid going to a friends house for a slumber party. That in itself would pretty much be a bad dream for me. I had a lot of anxiety as a kid and I could not sleep over at anyone's house. I needed to be home in my house with my family. I remember very specifically a few planned sleepovers ending badly with me throwing up, shaking and crying until my mom came to get me. One time, my mom never even made it back out the door after dropping me off. I went into the basement and my best friend and three other friends of hers were dancing and laughing and I faked a smile and laugh and fake danced for a couple minutes. I somehow excused myself and ran back upstairs where my mom was still in the kitchen talking to my friend's mom. I don't quite remember how things went down here, but I left with my mom and without saying goodbye to my friend.

I have a handful of stories like that. Once I was playing over at a friends house with the intent of sleeping over. It was mid-afternoon and we were listening to the Beatles I Want To Hold Your Hand on her little record player. Every time the song ended we started it up again and swooned over Paul holding our hands. The anxiety creeped up on me and the moment my friend left me alone to go get us drinks or snacks or something out of the kitchen, I bolted. I just left. I ran home and my mom had to explain to her mom on the phone that I came home and wouldn't be going back. Her mom didn't want me playing with her anymore after that.

So for me, dreaming that I was a kid going to a slumber party isn't a fun thing. I got there and they had rented a horror movie. We were in a rec room and the floor was lined with sleeping bags and junk food. I put on a brave face and played it cool. Quickly though, things went downhill and somehow the other girls implanted under my skin a dozen or so hard little golf-ball sized plastic balls. I understood that this was likely going to kill me if I didn't get them out. The other girls were joking around and being idiots copycatting horror movies they'd seen and not taking it seriously. In front of me was a bottle of some blue Drano-like liquid with hypodermic needles beside it. The girls were laughing and poking each other with the needles. I was mad. I felt entirely pissed off at these complete buffoons and in my anger and fear, I joined in and filled the needles and started injecting them with Drano.

Next thing I know we are outside and trying to get to the hospital and this one girl is running across the street to a party where her boyfriend was. We are teenagers now and boys have become more important than living apparently. These two guys are trying to help us and I am trying to convey the seriousness of the situation. The other girls who have been injected are starting to believe me. They are sick and itchy and throwing up...we just can't get this one girl to come with us. the others start seizing up, collapsing and dying. We throw them in the back of this station wagon and drive off.

This is where I wake up.

I drift off to sleep again and dream of bricks of turkey meat with thin layers of skin on them that you have to peel back to get to the meat. I peel back the skin but then only pick at the meat, unable to actually eat it.

Oddly, that second dream seems to be having more of an effect on me than the first one in that I can't get the image of turkey bricks out of my head.

Ugh - turkey bricks. Gross