So, the other night, among other insane things, I dreamt that I got a tattoo of a star that was in two parts across my forearms [on the outside, like keanu’s constantine]. And my apartment was inside this really old, like from the 1800s, department store, and I had to crawl through a small space and up a ladder to get to it. At one point I kept locking the door, and the landlady was chiding me that other residents needed to get in, but I told her that they were all monsters and we had to keep them out. She just laughed and unlocked the door. I tried to hide in this room that was in the middle of the hallway and was enclosed by glass-paned french doors all the way around, but I couldn’t keep the curtains covering all of the windows, and marble statues kept appearing and just stood there, facing in.
Then there was a horrific bit where some dude that I was dating [I think his name was Michael or John, something generic, but I’ve never seen him in real life before.] fell down a hill on his face and got really hurt and I had to go on a wild goose chase to find medicine for him, which ended up being a bowl of blood and a bowl of water. All the while I was being chased by some awful monsters that looked like people who had been wrapped in thorny vines with strips of grey silk covering their eyes and mouths and they yelled this horrible low howl that sounded like a million bells all going at once.
And I was running around the shadier parts of Baltimore, but I felt safer there than in the brightly-lit places. The dirtier and grubbier it was, and the more buildings that were boarded up, the more comfortable I was being there.
I don’t remember when I woke up. I think at that point I was just running and running and running.