three dreams

Three dreams -
One: A friend was voluntarily locked in a room. I tiptoed around outside the room, doing my best to be silent. I collected glass after used glass from the floor, all of them drained of one or another alcoholic drink that my friend had consumed. Wine glasses, champagne flutes, beer glasses and empty bottles; I collected as many as I could, setting them upon the sink, doing my best not to wake her.
Two: My friend shouted at my brother over the telephone. I was appalled, outraged, and would not let it be. It was as though she had attacked the most precious, most vulnerable part of myself. I insisted that she call back and apologise; not until she had done so would I even consider continuing any kind of friendship. She called, the other members of my immediate family present. She apologised, but insincerely, without actually taking responsibility and with no remorse. It was not enough. I did not believe her, or sense any kind of true understanding of her actions, only that she did not want to be punished. My mother and my sister backed me. We all wanted her to call again and truthfully express her apologies at having vented so misguidedly.
Three: I was driving my car, attempting to park at a venue around four in the afternoon. The venue carpark was closed and so I drove around the nearby streets, searching for a park. I wanted to find somewhere close and well lit so that once the event had finished, I could return to my car quickly and safely. I saw someone leaving a great spot, directly opposite the venue, on a corner. I drove easily into the park, but, once there, realised that it was reserved for buses and other commercial vehicles. I left and drove around a couple of streets, each taking me further from the venue and increasingly dark. I saw what I initially thought was a great park; certainly easy to get in to. However, while driving into it, I looked around and saw that the surrounding houses reeked with bad energy. I senses danger. I looked back to my park too late and drove straight into a pit that had opened in the road before me. I dropped through the ground into darkness and, immediately, my car turned into a bicycle and I caught it between my knees and grabbed onto the side of the road so that I hung from it, and my bike hung from me. I waited there for someone to give me a hand up. I thought that, should they come, I could pass them my bike (which I knew to really be a car) and then climb out of the pit with their assistance. I did not want to fall, knowing that it would be into the unknown.

not me

I had had an accident and I no longer had control of my body or mind. I was taken to a church event, which seemed fine, but I was in despair for I no longer had choice or expression. I wept. I cried for myself, for my brain, for my body. I was encumbered by the existing, surviving, misshapen, incomprehensible remnant of who I once had been.

insectile bird

A tiny bird, the size of a matchbox, flew through the window and circled the room. Featherless, it resembled a robotic bird, an insect, more than a bird. It whirred musically, mechanically as it flew. A flesh pink insect ten times its size snatched at the bird flying past. It scuttled after it, legs needling air, desperate to clutch it, to eat it. The bird hummed past, erratic, frantic, until it escaped back through the open window.