I've had the strangest dreams for two nights in a row; they are inescapable and I feel miserable when I wake up. In both I was exploring the large, mountainous, rolling hills of a foreign country. In both, I came to an aged, rickety, paneled, wooden door at the base of a large hill. Inside, was a large old-fashioned theatre. In the first dream, I was trying to reach someone; I knew who it was. I hate who it was. And when I finally found him, he held out his arms and I could see the electricity rising from his skin. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to explore it.
In the first one, I told him:

"I'm bound. Do you not understand? I can see you from across the room and feel you; sometimes, even when I don't see you...I feel you. Don't touch me. Your touch is like an addiction. I can't recover. We made a mistake by ever touching; I wish I'd never known you at all because being without your hands is like being without air."

In the second one, I reached for him...and he pulled away as if he was baiting me.
I was grateful for not telling him how much power he already knew he had over me.

The only real difference between the two dreams was that he had a mask of his own face on in the second one, and no mask in the first one.

He was clothed in black and white; around him was a sea of red.


There was no gray there.

But there should have been.
There should have been gray.

How strange.