Not a good dream

I had a rather strange dream last night, already its starting to get wispy and disappear so let me quickly cover it.

Hubby and I were living in what I think was Las Vegas. For some reason I think she was working for the mob (or some other organization) on a regular basis. For some reason she had decided she needed to kill my parents and for what seemed forever I was trying to convince her not to. This went back and forth for awhile (I can’t remember much of that detail) until she had to meet my parents at a warehouse. In addition I couldn’t talk my parents into not meeting with her (but I don’t think I could get myself to tell them she wanted to kill them).

Eventually I had to go to the cops (who were always following us). I went up and explained that my wife is going to try and kill my parents (I think it was more specifically my dad, but I can’t remember). Eventually the cops followed me and we went into the warehouse. Inside the warehouse was a normal room door. I pushed it open and it was our bedroom, with a large bed and set of lamps (sort of a mirrored version of our current bedroom) and there she was across from the door sitting in a box holding a pistol (specifically a .45 caliber colt longslide 1911), ready to shoot my dad, at least it wasn’t me though (this was a cross between a spot you can hide in one of the maps for the Half Life Mod Insurgency, combined with a picture I have of hubby pre-transition sitting in a box dressed as a gothic lolita). She got up, and I realized she was in her black gothic lolita outfit (but her hair was short like it is now) and ran over to the bed shoving the pistol into a sock, trying to hide it under some pillows. I was in before the cops, and all I remember doing was palming her head, shoving her on to the bed and saying “Your going to jail”.

I woke up just before I was going to cry. What the fuck was in my head (no, I don’t think the dream means anything).

So I just needed to write it up. I have had several dreams lately and I need to start recording them as I go again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.