kokopellinelli (kokopellinelli) wrote,

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Last night I dreamt about a volcano.

It was a really funky looking volcano...looked like a railroad spike sticking up out of the middle of a valley. The valley itself was surrounded by more plausible-looking mountains, and it was green and lush with a river running through it. Keels and I could see the volcano from the top of our mountain/castle (near as I could tell, the castle was part of the mountain). We had tried to tell the government the volcano was going to erupt, because somehow we knew it would, but they didn't listen. Keels' mom had come to visit us, and we took her to the castle roof and told her about the impending eruption. Her reply? "Oh, girls. You're overreacting."

Then the volcano started to billow smoke and ash.

I pointed it out, and she said, "Oh, Nelli. You're such a kidder," and went back down the steps.

The top of the volcano blew off. Lava everywhere.

I somehow became separated from Keels and her mom, and suddenly I was in a regular house (like the house I grew up in, but bigger and with more stairs) and MY mom and I were trying to figure out where to go. The house was on fire from the lava falling from the sky, and we couldn't go outside because of the lava and smoke. We decided to go to the concrete bunker we miraculously had under the house.

Mom wanted to go back upstairs to get this freakyass little Cupie Doll thing. I tried to grab her but she was slippery.

I followed her up the stairs screaming that we needed to go, and there were flames on the walls. She said it would be okay and opened a closet door in the stairwell and the only thing inside was the freakyass little doll. She handed it to me but then refused to leave the house. She kept telling me to go ahead. It became a rather cheesy screaming match: "Go! I'll come in a minute!" "No! I'm not leaving you!"

Then I glanced down the stairs and there was a little boy standing on the landing below me, staring at me. He was surrounded by flames.

Yeah, that kinda freaked me out.

I accidently crushed the doll in my hand (it had somehow become small, about the size of my palm, and hollow, and as brittle as eggshell) and for some reason ate the part of it that was still in my hand and it melted on my tongue. It tasted like sugar.

The little boy was still staring at me.

I turned back to my mom who was crouching on the stairs above me, holding out her hands to try and make me go away. I grabbed her hand and pulled, and we fell down the stairs toward the little boy.

Then I woke up.

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