Dreaming Sucks...sometimes

Last night was a rough night of dreaming. Times like those make me feel like I need to make therapy a priority. But it's so hard to find someone. For now, I resort to writing until the roughness fades away.

I was really in the thick of it last night. Trigger warnings for suicides.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of place it was set in, it had the feel of a hotel, not a dorm but it was filled only with rich older teens or young adults. Had what I imagine is a cape cod vibe: lots of floors of little rooms and weird tight staircases, light colors, and wainscoting. Lots of secrets. Lots of history. Near a beach town.

I was an older teen girl. New to the place but was acquainted with a lower hierarchy popular girl who introduced me to her group. I really only connected with a few of them, but none of them seemed to mind me being around. We'd all hang out at the beach or a cafe and there wasn't much else to that.

Occasionally I'd see the most popular girl's boyfriend around. At first glance he was the hot quiet type. But more meetings something seemed off. He was always distracted, moody, always in his own head, always puzzling something. One day I followed him out when he left the group to ask him if he was OK. He seemed surprised but didn't brush it off. We started hanging out away from the group as friends.

Then the first death happened. And another and another. All grisly apparent suicides from apparently happy teens. After each one the boyfriend had so much grief, became increasingly frantic to try and solve this mystery. As we became better friends, he let me in to this theory about the place all these deaths happened. He said something was killing them all, eating away their happiness like a parasite before making them end their own lives.

At the end all I remember is being in the lobby with him, hearing water running down the stairs above us. We both rush up to the top floor where 2 twin girls were staying. I couldn't enter the room but he did. When he came out, he told me both hung themselves in their room with the bath water running. He had a towel in his hand like he'd forgotten it was there. The whole thing gave me The Virgin Suicides vibes.

I woke up feeling so much grief. Just so horrified and devastated. I had trouble wading through those emotions to a neutral place. Also like what the fuck is wrong with my brain. Some nights dreams are great and some nights dreams are emotional wrecks.