Dream Title Internet Stalker, sent in by Linda
Date of Dream 8-7-98
Dream ---
I had a nightmare, which has lingered in my mind. I can't stop
feeling that it was real, and I'm supposed to do something about it. Your
comments or interpretations would be most helpful. Note that it was a
nightmare, and is a bit graphic.
In real life I live near an old, domed warehouse that is a studio for
a popular local news station.
In the dream, I was in the news station's little gravel parking lot,
sitting in my car. It turned out that some sort of shooting had occurred,
and a news lady came over to me with her camera guy close behind to ask
whether I thought the city was becoming more violent.
Suddenly, I was inside the news studio in a shabby office, sitting
across from a lady at a big desk. We were chatting, and I mentioned that
I'd love to do some part time work there, if they needed anybody. She
smiled sarcastically and exchanged glances with the other staff members who
were puttering about nearby. I got a strange feeling from her, as if she
really didn't like me.
Suddenly, I was back home, chatting online. We were pretty cheerful,
as chat rooms can be. I mentioned that I tried to get a job at the news
station, but was turned down. I said I wondered why they wouldn't hire me.
A response arrived through the computer from a lady. The response turned
into a physical letter, written in little cutout letters, as if from a
serial killer. It was several pages long, composed on colorful
construction paper, and was extremely complex and detailed, with lots of
little drawings and pop up pictures.
It started out friendly and cheerful, but then turned very personal,
critical and ominous. She quoted, as emails quote previous posts, about
why they hadn't hired me, and she responded, "Maybe because you're a no
talent hack, Linda (calling me by my real name which I hadn't revealed), or
should I call you Conan?" I hadn't used my online handle, and was
surprised she knew my name.
She revealed he was actually a man, and he started going into details
about my life that he couldn't possibly know from the chat site, but that I
had mentioned now and again over the years at various times in various
places. He knew where I lived, my kids names, where they went to school,
my neighbors and their kids names, and so forth, with an un-stated, but
implied threat. I became very nervous.
Suddenly, I wasn't in my apt any more, but in the house I grew up in.
I should mention I had a difficult childhood with violent parents, so going
home is no thrill. Anyway, I went out to the garage, and noticed the
windows had been broken and shoved in. This worried me. My family would
be furious about the damage. I went inside, and discovered that the
stalker had covered the walls with more detailed ravings about me, my life
and how inadequate I was. One section was dedicated to a lot of violent,
s&m porn, cut and pasted from magazines and then drawn on or otherwise
modified to involve deformity, burns and amputated limbs.
I cleaned it up. My husband was suddenly there, and helped me. He
didn't see the porn, which I hurriedly tore down before he noticed. I
explained nonchalantly that it was probably a prank by neighborhood kids,
and he smiled and took it all in stride. For some reason, I couldn't call
the cops because I felt it was my fault. It was important my husband not
know what was going on either, because I was ashamed.
My husband was gone, and I found myself back in the news station
parking lot. I couldn't leave because my car was having engine trouble.
In the parking lot a rough looking attendant called for the mechanic.
Everybody there looked like a biker or ex convict. The mechanic arrived.
He was dirty and thin, with long matted hair, dressed in filthy coveralls.
Half his mouth was twisted and partially opened either from a burn or due
to a deformity. He leaned in the car window, explaining what the engine
problem was. He deliberately leaned closer and closer to my face as I
leaned away as much as I could without being rude. When he was quite close
he whispered something very personal in my ear, and I realized he was the
stalker.
I found myself back in the garage, still trying to clean up the mess.
I'd missed a pile of scraps under a small table, and crawled under to pick
it up. I found a large bowie knife in a black sheath with a note: "Try
this." The stalker suddenly walked in and shut the door. I tried to
remain calm, asking what he wanted. He put down some duct tape and strips
of soft foam, and said, "Well, first I plan to make it very painful."
I jumped up and ran to the neighbor's house, entering through the back
door and calling the neighbor's name. The stalker ran after me and entered
through the front door, swearing angrily because I'd run away. I heard the
neighbor calling from a back room and realize he'd tied her up. He was
coming in and there was no time to help her, so I ran out the back door
again, crossed my back yard and hurried into the other neighbor's back yard.
He ran close behind me, almost within arm's reach, so I had to run as
fast as I could. I could hear him breathing hard from the exertion. He
was angrier than ever. Suddenly he stopped running, standing in the middle
of the neighbor's back yard. I was cornered in a large back patio, richly
decorated with a lot of clay and stone figurines, some large, some small.
It was a very ornate and beautiful patio (nothing like it really is). I
thought I'd better think fast and appease the stalker.
I looked around and realized he'd already been there, although I
wasn't sure how. I surmised the neighbor wouldn't be able to help me.
Then I realized all the eyes had been gouged out of the garden statues,
every little bunny, nymph, goose or whatever has been blinded. The stalker
said, "That's obvious. Look a little closer. It's rearranged." I
realized the patio décor itself, that is, all the statues and planters and
overhead trellis had been moved and aligned to resemble a huge eye, and I
was standing in the middle of it. That's when I knew I couldn't escape.
I stepped closer to the stalker, and tried to appear unafraid. I told
him it was a nice job and I was sorry about running away like that.
Suddenly, he was gone and in his place was a small, blue vase. I heard his
voice in my mind, asking, "Well?" I looked down at the little vase, with
absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do with the thing, but I knew it
was important.
Any thoughts? Thanks for your time. -- Linda
Comments by Dreamer Your interpretations are welcome.
Permission to Comment yes_share_comments
Permission Comments Any comments or interpretations are welcome.
