I don’t know what it is. First it was zombies at work. Last night it was Elizabeth Báthoryrunning a theme park in southeast Houston. The dream was plotted like a bad horror movie.
I started out looking for auto parts in what I think was Spring, Texas as it was in the early 1980s. I found out that I could get the part I needed but only if I traveled across Houston at rush hour. Somehow, that involved walking through a multi-level mall, where I became unconscious.
Still in the dream, I came to in a dungeon-like setting. The view zoomed down a long hall of rickety wooden stairs and dirt walls. I remember thinking, “That is a really cheesy effect!” And then we were at the room at the end of the hall. There was a very pale woman taking a blood bath, and I knew immediately that it was Elizabeth Báthory.
So she was a real vampire after all. At least, in the dream she was immortal. She seemed to be absorbing the blood through her skin like a sponge. It would run off of her skin like water, leaving the skin the color of limestone, unblemished and unstained.
Then the scene changed again. I was in a set of review stands. There were hawkers selling Elizabeth Bathory products to the spectators. A bound young woman was brought out to the theater floor. She was forced to kneel in the dirt and beheaded over a bathtub. The spectators all thought it was part of the show. I seemed to be the only one in the dream who knew it was real.
I knew I had to escape. Or to help someone else escape. But EB’s minions were loyal. Violence ensued. Then the alarm.
For such a dream, there was no emotional involvement, not even the involvement I would get from watching a movie. Not even dread. Just plodding through the plot. The characters were all involved. Even when the dream was in first person, I was detached from it. Strange really.
