…a king of infinite space…

I am certainly no king this morning as I had a very disturbing dream last night. I dreamt that I was visiting a family, I think they were friends, and their mother warned me that one of their children was special (indicating some disability) but also evil.

For context I didn’t recognise the friend, or their family, and I think I was much younger. Though I seemed to be my height.

The ‘special’ child in question was a girl, maybe eleven to thirteen, who had short dark brown hair and incredibly large round, brown, eyes. (There are likely overtones of watching Wednesday here.) She had a frown on her face and just looked unhappy. She spoke fine and we all talked about school and lessons, the only unusual thing about the girl was that her answers to questions were often abstract and she laughed at the wrong points. This didn’t seem evil, just slightly neurodivergent.

Scene change, hate it when dreams do that. Now I am in the kitchen talking to the friend and his parents. We hear screaming. At this point I discover that the friend is from a large family as there are about ten other siblings in the room we run into. The girl is there. She is wearing jeans and a lime green top and there is a spreading pool of blood on her top and on the floor from the gash where she has cut her own throat. She has a bloodied carving knife in her right hand and she is looking right at me and laughing silently.

This was disturbing enough but the dream then got worse. Another scene change and we are all dressed in black. I am sitting at the kitchen table. It is raining outside and I am looking at the rain through the window. I think it may be after the funeral. I can hear people talking but not to me. I blink and then I see the girl outside the window. Neck torn open. Eyes black and staring at me. The blood on her neck and clothes had turned black. She is grinning and laughing and she points the hand, still holding the knife, at me.

I turn to tell people she is there and they have all turned into her. Her face is on all of them and they are all laughing. As they laugh black blood runs from their mouths and is spat from their lips.

That is when I woke and I didn’t go back to sleep. It was just after four in the morning. The dream was clearly disturbing, but I don’t know what I am most upset about. The fact that someone killed themselves. The horrific style of the haunting. Or the fact that my brain was so clich├ęd and stereotyped it made the neurodivergent child into some horror protagonist.
I mean ffs brain, that trope surely is something you would normally rail against, it appearing in your dreams is so sad. Could you not have been more creative and less discriminatory? The horror was bad enough without the depressing social fears and historical bigotry.

Maybe they were haunting me because I assumed a role for them? Or maybeI was the only one not possessed because I didn’t give them that role and it wasn’t a horror but a plea from beyond the grave. That makes me out to be a much nicer person.
This was also part of the reason I couldn’t return to sleep…

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