| First thing is first. Drugs are bad... just say no! Now that that's over, I was on a lot of drugs this week. Morphine, for the most part. It's not as exciting as it sounds. Was in the hospital having a jaw infection dealt with.. good times, good times, but the drugs were amazing. But I have to say... the writing mind and drugs can produce some... interesting.. stuff. We're not talking Jim Morrison Doors of Perception type stuff.. we're talking bad stuff. That's what I get for writing paranormal, huh? Two memories... one was an entire segment where anything I thought of turned to zombies, which is normally a giggly thing for me, but under the influence they were all terrifying. Pack of pens? Turned to zombies. Veggie Tales pirate personified vegetables? Turned to zombies. All haunting. Also, there was this .. thing in one of my hallucinations. It started out looking like an early version of Bugs Bunny and slowly morphed into this creature I found terrifying. It's face was like of one those baby face masks from the movie Brazil and it's body was somewhat like the Chesire Cat. Except it's body was all plaid. And in the light of day, not terrifying at all, but man at the time, it gave me the willies. What monsters haunt your brains? |
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For me, it is not a monster but a house. The same house I use in most of my other horror stories and novels. It came from a dream somewhere around 15 years ago and the dream scared the living hell out of me for months, mainly because it kept coming back (I have episodic dreams but no credits for some reason).
Then, I decided that the best way to handle it was to change the dream. You know, make it less creepy, board up the two gates to hell-like places, hire the serial killer to mow the grass, you know, the usually stuff.
After that, it wasn't so bad. The dream still shows up every few months, but its closer to a soap opera than a horror story. Specially when the creature in the bathroom (don't sit down) started collecting the dolls. Still blood, gore, and horror, but its an okay blood, gore, and horror.
I suspect that most people, when faced with the depths of their subconscious, don't redecorate. :) But, it worked for me.
Back in 1996, my spline burst. I was on morphone for a couple weeks, and man those dreams were a trip. I thought the nurses were my spiritual guides, and it was my job to save the world. At one point I told everyone that I met God and a guy in a red turban, but I don't recall that. I do remember finally catching up to Our Savior, and when he turned around it was Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Enterprise.
Make it so, Number 1.
That woke me up.
Much like d. moon I tend to take control of my dreams. Not often do they trip me out.
But after I broke my arms (see Stacia's klutz post) when I came off the dope they put me under with I started professing my undying love to a nurse I swore looked just like Farrah Fawcet. I preached to my Grandparents and told everyone that I had to pee something fierce. The next day my parents told me I did all of this while screaming at the top of my lungs.
Yep, hospital dope is some wicked shit. Glad you're up and around, and presumably feeling better.
Oh my God you guys are a hoot!!! My father is passing very slowly from this world, and he's on morphine now at the nursing home and some of the stuff he says/does is a riot. Makes dealing with losing him have at least a few up points.
Oh, I forgot to mention my father-in-law. He went into surgery a few weeks ago for part 2 of his jaw replacement. While on drugs and going through nicotine and alcohol withdrawal all at the same time, he started talking about how they replaced the thermostat with a camera and they were watching him. Or that they were replacing the nurses with doctors, but he didn't think they had licenses. Every time they took him somewhere, he started demanding his lawyer and he had rights as a citizen of the USA.
It was funny, as was the phone calls he left on his wife's answering machine (I was there because of the flooding so I got to hear them).