Red Shoes and the Man With the Wolf Eyes

Last night was... interesting. An amalgamation of many images from many dreams. I often dream of the negative voice in my head beating me, raping me, whatever have you. Almost every time, if I don't kill him someone else does. This was the first dream in which the gun came into play. I've dreamt of it a few times since, same results. Again with Martin tattooing my back. The skeleton bartender. But this, new visitor, the man with the wolf eyes...

I was at the Townehouse with Lisa, Jeff and his friends who helped us move. Some guy grabbed me and threw me against the table then pretended to hump me.

"Yeah! You like that don't you bitch?" He rants about how no one will ever love me, the one man I love will never love me, I will never succeed, I will never gain any ground, so on and so forth with his banterings.

A dark-haired stranger with wolf-like eyes protested and gave me just enough distraction. I elbowed the brute in the gut and, cursing, he pulled me back with his arm around my throat and, reflexively, my leg flew up [and I jumped a little] and my foot connected with his mouth. I grabbed the arm that was formerly around my throat and I threw him down on the table. I jumped up, straddling him, and backhanded him across the jaw.

"I'm always on top." I growl and dig my nails into his chest and dragging them down leaving deep furrows in his flesh. He screams and I slap him again. I grab him by his jaw and stare him dead in the eyes. I grin - that crooked toothy grin I have - and then slide off the table with all the grace of a feline.

Then, like so many dream-jerks before him, he whips out a gun and holds it to my head.

"Go ahead, pull the trigger." I tell him, unflinching. He does, and as always, click-click-click - no bullet. Always, they try eight times. Always, they examine the gun and it blows off their left ear. I've had this scenerio at Scott's xmas party, in philosophy class, at William's Cafe and Pub, at the Laughing Buddha, at Eyes of the Wild. It's insane. I don't know why this image keeps resurfacing.

The dream became... slightly odd at that point.

It melted. It all melted away.

I was in Martin's room at the tattoo shop - naked save for snazzy red high heel shoes and a red ribbon tied around my throat. I'm sitting backwards on a chair, my arms crossed and my chin resting on them. I look over my shoulder when he walks in - big black wings extending from his shoulderblades and glowing in a weird red-white light. I keep my lustful sigh to myself despite the images that flash through my dream momentarily. He's setting up, choosing inks and just before he starts tattooing me, he runs his fingers along my spine and I can't help but shiver. I take a deep breath... and the pain is absolutely blinding. I take it like I've taken all my other tattoos - no tears, but I'm biting the living hell out of my own arm. Hours seem to pass, the room is disturbingly hot and the walls are starting to talk. They whisper to me all the memories - the day on the bus, the first night at Casey's, bits and pieces of movie nights, how angry I was when I had to admit to myself I'd never get a chance, how bitter I was for awhile, how much it hurt and how good it felt to admit how much I loved him, the night and early morning at his camp, the zombie walk... every little feeling, every tear, every smile, every skipped heartbeat, every butterfly, every kiss, every cruel word, the bites, the touches, the dreams... every sensation, every feeling... and now I'm crying, overwhelmed. All the while he's still tattooing me and exchanging jokes with the talking walls, my tears are mixing in with the blood of my self-inflicted wounds. It feels like the tattoo is being infused in my own spine, like the ink is wrapping around each vertebrae. I arch my back as he draws in the last line. With one giant movement of his wings, the whole room cools down, the walls are silenced and he bids me to look in the mirror.

I wish, for once, I'd see what he's tattooed. I'm ecstatic, I love it, but I never get to actually see it. Damnit.

I thank him from the bottom of my heart for this tattoo, I love all his work etched into my skin but this... this is a dream come true. I kiss him, he wraps his arms around me gently and his wings envelop me. I'm staring into his eyes trying to understand everything dancing behind them while simultaneously losing myself in their depth. Then darkness clouds my dream vision...

I open my eyes. I'm standing alone in an empty field. A giant oak tree stands mightily at one end of the hill I'm standing on. The sky above is a midnight blue and completely covered in stars. I'm still wearing those red high heel shoes and, as I look up at the full moon, the wind whispers passed me. It clothes me in a corsetted dress keeping my shoulders exposed. I feel the red ribbon around my neck and the ribbons tying two little ponytails in my hair. I take a deep breath and walk towards the oak tree. Within its massive roots, carved neatly in its base, is a door. With just a little push, the doors open and I slip inside.

At first, it reminds me of an old pub, there's a bar and multicoloured lights dancing all around. It's also a sideshow, with monsters in cages and freaks performing various talents. A man with a goatee and wild eyebrows gets right in my face and personal space, greeting me and introducing the carnival sideshow before me. He spins his cane and bows, removing his top hat and kissing my hand.

"You're curious enough I don't have to tell you to explore the wonders here so enjoy. The night is young." He grins, like the Cheshire Cat, wiggles his eyebrows and let's me step inside. I investigate the sideshow first. I make friends with an indigo lion who says he's just passing through. Once I've applauded the performers for their talents and even introduced myself to a manticore among many other mythical beasts and monsters, I bid the lion good night and head towards the pub.

The bartender is a skeleton in a silk vest. He checks his pocket watch as I sit down, smiling somehow, and mixes me a drink. The drink smells like raspberry sours [those candies I remember having in Toronto but could never find again] and it changes colour sporadically. I thank him and eat the strawberry slice on the rim of the glass before taking a sip.

That's when he walks up to me. I can't see his face, I can't tell you what his body structure was like, but I was instantly intrigued, fascinated and attracted to him. This shadow man with wings sprouting from his shoulderblades and wolf eyes. He had the most piercing eyes. He doesn't introduce himself, he just sits next to me and we start talking. He says:

"Take all that you can and give nothing back."

"Give what you take and take what you give."

"Is the sky blue?"

"It is if you see it that way."

"Black or white?"

"Purple."

"Half empty or half full?"

"It's my glass and I'll drink the rest of it eventually."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Satisfaction brought her back."

"Why?"

"Die trying."

He smiles, kisses my cheek very gently and then I wake up.