that dream

in her dreams she was caught.
held captive by a faceless person,
dragged her from her waist from behind,
tied her arms at the wrist and left her to cry.

when she cried,
there were no tears.
when she screamed,
there was not a single sound.

the figure sat there in the rusty chair,
laughing,
with a beer bottle in his(?) hands,
laughing at her helplessness.
his(?) laughter had no sound too.
everything was in vacuum.

she felt her throat tightening,
the more she screamed for help and tried to free herself,
the more excruciating was the pain.
her throat was on fire,
her eyes like dried wells scorching hot in summer,
her head throbbing like a drum being hit
over and over and over...

then as sudden as it had happened,
all the pain ceased.
she opened her eyes and saw through her window
that it was raining heavily outside,
the streets below secluded and wet.
she looked at her reflection in the mirror
and was startled when she saw her pale, cracked lips.
she swallowed hardly,
a lump in her throat.

that was the scariest dream ever,
she shivered with that thought.
but somehow she felt emancipated,
liberated.
the pain was only temporary,
it's all gone now, it's all gone.

"that dream", blackhumour, 200911041504

maybe i have been so focused on mcp and foucault that after i finished the paper, all my stress on foucault's abstract arguments and liberation of actually finishing that paper manifested itself as this dream. except in the dream i was treated far worse than what i have written down. i was tortured, inhumanely. except yea, worse. 2 hours later, it still sends chills down my spine.