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I find myself walking down the winding stairwell of an old dim tower I am accompanied by a severely
deformed man who looks very much like the character Ephialtes from a film called ‘300’ which I
watched a couple of weeks ago.
As we descend down the steps invisible hands lunge out at the deformed man slashing and swiping at
him with swords. The man appears to fall and die from the bloodless wounds but then almost
immediately and miraculously comes back to life again.
This drama of being killed and reanimated continues as we proceed to make our way down the stairs
towards the exit where the sunlight is pouring in.
Thoughts: I slept very heavily last night and my recall was not as detailed as it usually is, the dream drama is most probably still symbolic though rather than random imagery. The deformed character from the film was something of a tragic figure, because of his disability he wasn’t considered man enough to fight alongside the other manly warriors but he was offered a role serving the warriors instead. But in his anger at being refused a place alongside the warriors he turned traitor and was rewarded with earthly physical pleasures by the enemy. I guess that might somehow be the significance of his appearance in my dream only retold in a symbolic way which links in with my life, i.e. I am somehow not being of service to my masculine side or letting it down somehow? That probably doesn’t make any sense at all but coming down the stairs to go outside felt a little like we were going outside to face the music so to speak, its difficult to put those feelings into words but it was both a very daunting and frightening prospect but one which would also be ultimately cathartic. The location of a tower with the deformed man also had strong echoes of the tale of the Hunchback of Notre Dame which seems to serve to double the symbolism.
Dream 1: Guilt – Daytime and I find myself in a vaguely familiar bedroom, a naked lady is lying on a bed and we make beautiful love with one another. The experience is heavenly and blissful but I am suddenly overcome over with a terrible and unbearable feeling of crushing guilt which causes me to stop, I even see that I’m not wearing a condom which seems to magnify my anxiety ten fold.
Dream 2: Washing up for one side of the family – Daytime and in a vague setting I find myself involved in a drama with my father’s side of the family, apparently they have bought some kind of restaurant which is also an old train carriage. In the scheme of things an aunt seems to be running the show with all of the other relatives following her orders, she is the one who I quite admire and have dreamt of in the past. I have been given the lowliest job of kitchen porter and have the unenviable task of washing up all of the cutlery, crockery and kitchen utensils used in the restaurant. The job is an absolute misery and I feel like a complete dogsbody, I wish the dream to end and manage to will it away and it dissipates into nothingness at my command.
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Daytime and I find myself in a bullfighting ring and in the role of a matador although in the
slightly unorthodox form of a virtually naked gladiator, I note that I am accompanied on the far
side of the arena by a dream friend who is giving me encouragement and guidance.
A bucking thrashing bull comes rampaging out into the ring and starts orbiting the perimeter in a
gyring clockwise motion, I take up an offensive crouch and ready myself to anticipate the wild
beats movements. I note that the floor of the arena is littered with many cutlasses, these are
weapons I feel are at my disposal and which my dream friend urges me to take advantage of.
I begin to make strategic roly-polies to pick up the swords and in turn the bull makes ferocious
advances toward me thrashing its bulky body at me like a huge bola. I manage to throw the swords I
gather at the beast cutting glancing blows but I’m startled and stunned when the rampaging bull
somehow manages to throw the swords back at me forcing me to take evasive action.
(The part where the bull was throwing swords may sound humorous but in the dream it was very real
and deadly serious and not at all comical, there seemed to be an almost mythological side to the
Time suddenly becomes more measured just as if in slow motion, the friend on the other side of the
arena points excitedly to a strategically placed cutlass laying on the ground and indicates a prime
opportunity where I can strike a fatal blow.
I role over grab the cutlass and make a dive through the air launching the sword at the same time
as the immense beast cuts his swathe past me. The sword pierces into the bull’s underside and
penetrates on out through to the other side, it would appear that I can now relax in the knowledge
that I’ve managed to strike the killer blow.
A subtle shift takes place and I detachedly (in a spirit like form) watch a scene occurring in a
tiny villa connected to the bullfighting arena, it would appear to be something like a counting
house. I see a beautiful senorita dressed in traditional Spanish clothing sat in front of a desk
behind which is a smartly dressed older man also in traditional Spanish clothing (the man vaguely
resembled the actor Louis Jourdan).
The lady appears to have come secretly on my behalf but without my knowledge to visit the man who I
gather owns the bullfighting arena. I see the lady hand over many gold coins to the man, it is
difficult for me to understand what this payment represents but I feel that the lady doesn’t want
me to come to any harm in the arena so she ensures my safety by paying off the owner of the
Thoughts: This was a very dramatic dream and although in waking life I would be uninterested in and find this kind of drama upsetting in the dream it felt very meaningful and symbolic even empowering. Some extra thoughts, the arena reminded me of a clock face with the bull running around the perimeter one of the hands showing the passage of time. The bull may have a further symbolic meaning in the astrological sense as I’ve been reading a little about this topic just lately with Taurus being the opposite of my sun sign. When I realised afterwards that the senorita was paying to secure my safety I wasn’t sure whether to feel cheated of a manly victory or protected by a kind of guardian angel.
Dream 1: Evil eyes – Night time and I find myself upstairs inside a Victorian mansion I’m in a large bedroom with a high ceiling where the curtains are drawn and the room is dim. I see two very elderly old ladies dressed in long gowns one of these women is very childlike the other is more mature in nature. I watch as the two ladies hold one another’s hands and waltz together in an eerie arms outstretched way. I have the impending feeling of something very unpleasant about to happen and the tension suddenly rises very quickly. With a sudden jolt I find myself in the body of the childlike woman the other lady has her back to me and her face turned away (it’s at this point I sense that I’m having a nightmare). The other lady slowly cranes her neck around and turns her head to face me. A spine chilling shock surges through my body as I see the petrifying white flaky face of the demonic woman, I want the nightmare to end but feel impelled to stare at this hideous medusa. Her crooked smile is rotten and sour and her gorgon eyes seem to be glowing like two radioactive orbs. It’s too much to bear and with a sudden jerk I sit bolt upright in bed in a cold sweat having managed to pull myself out of the terrifying nightmare.
Dream 2: Passport progress – Daytime and I find myself at an airport I walk over to the desk where the passports are being checked by a suited customs official. I hand in my expired passport and the official passes me a new replacement, the new passport is very large and thick like a well read and worn black paperback book. I take the passport book and walk through to the departure lounge where I plan to meet my Mum before going on a holiday to Turkey together, I see my Mum sat alone at a cafeteria style table with opposing seats. Before I get too far though the official who gave me my new passport calls out to me and asks me to provide him with an extra passport style photograph for his records. I ask the man if it will be okay if I bring him the photograph when I return from holiday as I haven’t managed to shave and I won’t look well presented in the picture. The man seems happy with this arrangement and lets me continue on my way. As I make my way over to my Mum I flick through the new passport book I see that I must have completed an application form at some time in the past for this replacement as small pieces of that form have been cut out and pasted into the book. The black book is vaguely reminiscent of a book of poetry I have by Alfred Tennyson.