Operation “Fuck and Kill”

Aqui vai mais um de meus sonhos sinistros. Mais uma vez escrito no meio da noite em inglês, e o publico aqui na sua integridade, sem censura.


Dream 6 – 7.2.2004
Operation “Fuck and Kill”

(I’m placing [...] in the places where something is forgotten)

[… … … ] I’m a blond woman in a short red dress and I’m feeling very horny. I’m sitting on a sofa. I open my legs and a man older than me comes over me. I have no underwear. He is going to fuck me, but instead, he is killing me with a knife. I feel it first between my legs and I start dying. But in my mind I wonder how could it possibly kill me so fast. […]

The story has to be recounted because I’m trying to make sense of it (in the dream). I’m a blond woman in a red dress and I’m sitting in the same light beige sofa, and I’m feeling very horny. I check how wet I am. There are other people in the room, hiding. The older man (the same) comes through the door and I open my legs. He starts to fuck me and I’m the one who is going to kill him, but I let me fuck first for a while because I’m too horny. This time there is an innocent atmosphere around him, and he is completely unaware of how evil I am. Meanwhile, I’m trying to remember, am I supposed to kill him or is another one of those hidden in the room (my accomplices) going to do it? I look behind me to the long and narrow table or something between the sofa and the window, is the knife there? There isn’t anything. But it has to be. I look again, and there is a huge knife that looks almost like a chainsaw. I can’t use this! And I wouldn’t have left it here; the victim would have seen it. The knife is not there anymore. […]. One of the others stabs him on the back while he is fucking me. […]

Now I’m a young and attractive man, clad in black, with silver rings and a bracelet. I go to the bathroom to wash all the blood out of my hands. There isn’t a sink. There is a basin with water, and three glasses with water mixed with soap (?). I miss running water. I wonder if every fucking bathroom in Thailand (???) is like this. I’m having trouble with washing my hands. A woman (the blond woman?) comes in through the door (which is far away – the bathroom is a large and dark room) and I feel annoyed, I don’t want to interact with her. At this point, I’m both the man and an observer, because I see through his eyes, feel through his skin, but I can simultaneously observe him and her from a distant position. From this distant position I observe myself and happily think of how handsome and sexy I am. I look at my shoulders and I’m delighted with my muscles. At the same time, I’m still washing my hands and angrily answering something to the question she made me, whatever it was, I’m not interested. […]

The story starts from the beginning again, but this time all participants are sitting on the sofa and armchairs. Someone rings the door bell. “Be ready!” someone says to someone (maybe me). I open the door. I’m a woman now, and the person coming in is also a woman, she is shorter than me, she is black, and she has long and straight hair, and she is smiling a lot. I smile too while saying “heeey!” in a very friendly, fake tone of voice. We are going to kill her.