Do you ever dream of a specific murder, knowing you will never be able to see it come to fruition? Sometimes, time, distance, or the laws of physics intervene but one day, I’m going to be the first woman to commit murder on the moon and then nothing can stop me.
In reality,
it’s more likely that Casey will be the one to earn that title but it will be a
leap forward for womankind regardless.
So anyways,
I had a dream where I basically skinned a man alive. I cut a piece on the
inside of his elbow and dragged it towards his fingers like I was pulling a
sleeve off (because it was a dream, of course, it came off in one piece. So I
did that to both his arms and naturally he was screaming bloody murder the
whole time.
Am I
allowed to use that phrase? Can you actually say “screaming bloody murder” in
the context of a bloody murder in which the victim screamed?
Who would I
ask about that?
So I tore
the skin off his forearms like a glove, he was screaming, it was all going
fine. Then I cut just below his clavicle and around his back as a reference
point because obviously, you have to save the head for last. The head is the
best part because if you do it right, they’ll still be alive even after they’ve
lost most of the blood in their body. So long as the brain as not registered
that the heart has stopped pumping blood, you’ve got a bit of time on your
hands.
Have you ever
watched a person realize that they are dead? Not “going to die”. Actually dead.
It’s fascinating. It’s not the same as someone accepting that they will die.
Those reactions are pretty standard. Some accept it, some are terrified, some
are confused. Nothing overly exciting (though if you get a chance to watch the
light leave a person’s eyes, it is truly magical).
But
watching someone realize that they have already died. It’s something else.
See, if
their body has died before their brain has full registered it, there are a few
seconds or even minutes where you can see on their face – especially their eyes
– that they’re existing in a way that they shouldn’t. It’s like for that short
time, they are an alien or a monster on this planet, completely unwelcome even
by themselves. They shouldn’t be here and they don’t want to be here, but they’re
trapped.
It’s quite
a fascinating expression.
So I always
try to leave the head for last.
In my
dream, I outlined the head so I knew where to stop carving, and then started
doodling. It’s really fun to cut pictures into flush, like tattoos. It’s a
little easier than shaping leather and if your knife is sharp enough, it’s like
cutting construction paper, but you are leaving a lasting impression in a way
that’s only for the two of you. It’s an intimate art show – though not like the
one I convinced James to go to with me on a dare and we ended up getting kicked
out for laughing too loudly. This is about the psychological aspect as much as
it is the physical torture.
I remember
I wasn’t as concerned about that, though. I suppose, it’s really weird to be
thinking inside a dream without somewhat realizing that it’s a dream. I was
more focused on making a map. For the life of me, I wish I could remember what
was on the map but I distinctly remember that I drew a map on this man’s torso
(with valleys and mountains and stretches of road and rivers carved in). It was
very detailed.
By the time
I had finished with my mysterious map, there wasn’t much of his torso left, so
I dug to the deepest point and sliced the whole thing off so I could preserve
the map. Then I moved down to his legs and peeled them off the same way I had
his arms. Somewhere near the end of the mapmaking was when he stopped screaming
and I remember stabbing him in the thigh to see if he was alive (he was) so I kept
on going. After I had used his skin like leg warmers, I went to his feet and at
each toe, I pulled as hard as I could until I’d dislocated it, and then put it
off where the bone separated.
Dream
physics. We’ve discussed this already.
I also know
it was a dream because everything was covered in blood. Me, him, the floor, the
walls, the ceiling. But nothing was drying. I have a love/hate relationship with
dried blood. On one hand, I love the reminders of all the lives I’ve taken and
being able to peel or scrub them before bedtime as a way of commemorating the
day’s work. On the other hand, dried blood doesn’t come out of ANYTHING. True,
I have perfected my techniques for keeping clothes clean, and all the chemicals
that actually do their job, but I wouldn’t have had to if blood wasn’t so damn
hard to get out.
The best
part of my dream was definitely the thick, dark red liquid that shone on the
surface of the walls like it was fresh despite knowing it would take hours to
get the body to the state it was in.
After I’d
removed parts of his toes, I stabbed him in both thighs (right where I’d made
the first stab – reduce, reuse, recycle), and pulled downwards, tearing at the
muscles and tissue underneath until it all fell open to the bone. I left that open,
however, I don’t know why I didn’t tear it off as well.
Regardless,
I then moved up to the head, where his face was stained with tears and arterial
spray. I don’t think he even had the strength to beg for his life at this
point. I cut off both of his eyelids and his lips (but left his mouth there, I
just took the pillow-y bit). I stuffed all four on top of his tongue and made
him swallow. I could see the bits moving down his throat and on track to his
stomach because it was all open but still functioning (DREAM). It was
fascinating.
You know,
if my life had taken another path, I might have become a nurse or doctor. My
fascination for human anatomy takes on a more practical nature instead.
More
practical than being a doctor, you say?
Shut up.
Once his
eyeballs dried out, I just plucked them right out of their sockets and left
them hanging there. But I did dig through to his brain through the eye socket
and poke around there for a bit. I left a few knicks and cuts where I could reach
but otherwise, I was just trying to mess with him.
I played
with his brain for a little while and then I carved a straight line across where
his eyes had been, circled his skull and peeled off the top. There was still
the skull in the way but the top half of his head was gone.
That was
when the man opened his mouth and I think he was going to try and speak.
And then I
woke up.
Now I
really want to try some of the stuff I dreamed about but how the fuck am I
going to do all of that? In the middle of a pandemic? With my budget? Are you
kidding me?
Not to
mention all that blood would dry so fast in this weather and then I’d be left
with this huge mess to clean up.
I was so
excited but I just don’t think it can ever happen.
Which is
such a shame because it looked really cool.
Oh well.
As always, dear
readers,
Stay Safe
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