dream diary 1

Good morning lets get that bread

Looking for something in a hardware store, and finding it too expensive for my budget, and due to a weird dream misunderstanding, I end up signing up for a psychological evaluation, somehow.

When I get home a woman knocks on my door, I invite her in. I live in a little jail cell. She psych evals me. We talk very openly and directly, I speak matter-of-factly. I tell her about feeling unhappy, about this sense of lacking I have, and openly admit suicidal ideation. She very professionally simply takes notes and doesn’t interrupt.

She herself has a physical handicap. The back of her head is missing, and is a big open wound, which she has covered with some kind of plastic cap, that is either magical or science fictional, preventing her brains from falling out. The back of her head is just missing, and she has this beige plastic cover across it.

She looks out of a window, sees a couple of teenagers fooling around on the grass outside, and her voice is thick with envy at their innocence and youth. She makes some kind of snarky comment about them. I walk up behind her and place my hands on her hips. She doesn’t reject me. As she doesn’t I put her on the bed and undress her, and we have sex.

Closing my eyes during intercourse, I have the sensation that she takes off her head. She removes her entire head with a click, it seems like, and there’s a locking mechanism in place where her head is attached to her body with a hook on her neck. Through magic or something, she can just survive removing her head. Dont worry about it. Guiding my hands she has me caress the hook on her headless neck as if it was a clitoris.

We both finish and I open my eyes, to find the bed covered in blood. But not only blood, blood and brains. I help her attach the magical plastic cover to the back of her head, panicking, frightened, worried about her. I tell her ”is there anything I can do. Tell me. What can I do to help you. Tell me.” She could be dead, she could be dying, I feel terrible and guilty for having dared to try to make excuses for her, to sexualise it and let myself believe something as insane as her taking her entire head off as a sexual thing, while I was apparently just fingering a hole in her brain and actively killing her, hurting her, destroying her. I felt like a monster for having let myself believe the fantasy. ”What can I do to help you, anything, I’ll do anything, tell me”.

She says, there is one thing you could do. You could cry out to God and ask him to strike us both dead.