I don't know why, but you were on your side facing away from me and pulled up the blanket a bit. I can't remember if you were trembling or not, but it felt like you needed someone there and one of the dark haired men was either chatting away merrily in the room or was gone. So I lay there, fully clothed, holding you and hoping that you would be alright.

That's all I remember."

I edited slightly to leave out sentimental ending remarks.

The feelings I get about the dream are fairly vivid. It involves:

1) Being betrayed or having been betrayed and receiving those marks. Given the person's past, the latter seems more plausible, as if the wounds are actually there, but that person either does not notice or does not mind them. It seemed to involve love of some kind, though what specific sort I can't say.

2) Something self-inflicted indicative of emotional or mental trauma. This is a possibility, but it just doesn't feel right to me.

3) A sub-conscious attempt by my psyche to reach catharsis about latent desires of some kind. I'll tentatively admit that also makes sense.

I only dream about my friends in a few select instances:

1) They're going through a major transition period of some sort, involving change through death of some kind.

2) They're in an incredibly grave situation that involves lots of pain.

This happened before with a handful of neophytes that thought I wasn't full of shit, back in the day when I still taught mysticism and occultic whatnot for the more curious at heart of the last three generations.

I don't like to talk about them or what happened to them, since it's a rather sore subject. Suffice it to say, my subconscious seems to generate dreams like this when I have perceived that someone meets one of the two conditions above.

Yes, my psyche a la chinese take out menu. Shall I choose madness from column A or derision, contempt, and listening to the mundanely acrimonous grunts of nay-sayers from column B? Oh hell, knowing most people, they'll choose both and a side-platter.

We all know why tabloids, talk-shows, and survivor-esque melodramas sell so well, hmm? That's right, point and laugh. The illusion of superiority is a wonderful opiate for anyone.

So if you must, point at me and laugh. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

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