knives

I was in another time and place, part of a community. I had a job to do which involved displaying my collection of knives. My knives were kept safe in a piece of cloth, each knife blade protected from the next by the way in which I wrapped the cloth around each knife, and then the cloth was rolled around the outside of the entire collection, packaging it into a neat bundle. To display the knives, I unwrapped the bundle and lay the knives carefully on the cloth spread across a table. As I waited for people to inspect the knives, I polished and sharpened the blades. People admired the knives, sometimes holding one, handling it, seeing how it felt and deciding if it was the right knife for them. A man came along and although I sensed that he was dangerous, I knew it was my duty to show him the knives; I treated him with respect but regarded him with caution. He selected a short knife with a keen blade and, before he left, he scratched my arm, leaving a shallow incision. I wrapped my remaining knives and went to talk with the leaders of the community. I told them about the man and my concern; I felt that he was a threat to our safety. The leaders were immediately on alert, determined to find the man. Time passed and they found him, although too late. They brought the man and two other people, a man and a woman, into the central community area. I recognised the man and the woman as figureheads and spokespeople. They were both very attractive, dressed in dark suits, both had dark hair, but they had blood covering their chins. It took me a moment to work out that the man had captured them and had cut out their tongues. I felt terribly aggrieved, wondering how these two good people were going to survive. I identified the perpetrator as the man who had taken the knife and he eyed me with hatred, fixing upon me as his next target. The men who had arrested the evil man seemed to be somewhat inept and open to suggestion; using his sharp intelligence, the man fooled them and escaped. Now he was again a threat to the community and specifically to me. Time passed again, perhaps a day or so later, and there was a gathering of the whole community. I walked through the crowd, very nervous about being there, knowing that the man might appear from anywhere and that he may be in disguise. I studied the faces of the people I passed, not trusting anyone’s guise. I also did not want to hide, knowing that the sooner I face him, the better. I had one of my knives secreted in a large side pocket in my pants; I kept my hand curled around the handle, ready should I need to defend myself. Although I was nervous, I also knew that my unmatched skill in precision knife handling, would better his attack. I circled the area and wound my way up the stairs to a raised platform behind a wall, away from the thick crowd. Here, the man leapt out of the shadows, jabbing his knife at me several times with a ferocious but untidy motion that I was able to counter. I drew my long knife from my pants and scalped him, thrusting the blade into the top his skull toward the back of his head, and pulling the knife toward me, effectively removing the top of his skull. To ensure his death, I then stabbed him once in the heart, knowing exactly where to aim and the pressure required to kill him. I immediately cleaned my knife, removing any trace of him.

babies

Dreaming of babies. A baby that was not mine had been left, sitting in a ceramic bowl. It was wearing a nappy but there was water in the bowl which had soaked through the cloth and the baby was sodden. I removed his nappy and dried him off, but I could see that his little legs were very cold: they were a little blue and he was crying. I gently tapped his legs, getting the circulation going again. He then urinated.

Another dream: a mother was holding a baby in her arms. The baby was sitting astride her hips, with his head turned back, watching me, and I could see that he had spots on its face. He was looked angry.