IN THE NIGHT
by Kellymarie McColl-Beggs
I don't know when it will happen
Or what time it will be
But when the darkness falls
They're waiting there for me.
I secure all the doors and windows
Locking them up tight
But it offers no protection
From those hidden in the light.
I know I should not close my eyes
And I fight to stay awake
But as my resistance wanes
It is me that they will take.
I tell them I will remember
They say, with deep regret
"Why put yourself through this?
It is better to forget."
When I open my eyes in the morning
I will know that something is wrong
Yet no matter how hard I may try
The memories are all gone.
Tuesday 26 June 2012
Thursday 9 July 2009
I found myself in an airport lounge with George. After unsucessfully trying to find a decent hair colourant, I decided for once and all that I was going to return to my natural brown hair colour because all the red / ginger dyes seem to be mysteriously disappearing off the shelves. Since we had a couple of hours to wait until the flight, I decided that I would dye my hair then and there and use the shower facilities provided in the lounge.
I had just finished rinsing out the dye and had called on George, when I suddenly felt myself becoming very weak and very dizzy. I recall sliding down the cubicle wall and then feeling myself slip into a sickening blackness.
When I returned to consciousness, I was lying in a room that had windows all along one wall. For a moment, I thought that I was in a corporate skyscraper somewhere, because the glass of the windows seemed to be the polarized temperature adapting type. I noticed that my left hand was bandaged, as was my left foot. An intravaneous drip led into my right arm. Midway down the tube, an extra bag had been attached that allowed a pink coloured solution to merge with the clear fluid coming through the tubes and into my veins. For some reason, I knew that this pink substance was a form of analgesic opiod painkiller and that explained why I was feeling quite 'woozy' and why, when I had tried to lift my arm to study the bandages, I had felt 'drunk'.
I tried to call out, but my lips were very dry and my throat was parched. The bed I was in was not standard hospital issue. The sides were made of a grid-like plastic / polymer that felt metallic. Monitors were built into these grids and every so often, there would come a 'sshhhhink-shhhinkk' noise and the monitors would record information.
I have no clue as to how long I lay there, but eventually, a man entered the room. He looked like the cliché American / Australian surfer type and wore a blue suit with a white doctor's coat over it.
I immediately took a dislike to him.
He said nothing, approaching the bed with an assessing expression on his face. Almost as though he were considering something that I was certainly not going to be privy to. He leaned over me, raised my left hand and started to unravel the bandage. As the gauze fell away, I cried out, hoarsely.
My thumb had been surgically removed. All that remained was a little bit of the fleshy mound and the skin had been stitched immaculately so as to leave a miniscule scar. He re-dressed the area and then progressed to my foot. Having seen my hand, I had started trying to wiggle my toes because I had a sneaking suspicion that something would certainly be amiss with my left metatarsals.
My left big toe had received the same treatment. All I could do was sob. I couldn't ask why this had happened and he offered no explanation. Again, he re-dressed the area and left the room. I fell into sleep once more.
When I woke for the second time, I found a woman staring at me. She was approximately forty-ish and had mid length blonde hair and wore baggy clothes. For some reason, I thought she reminded me of Emma Thompson.
"My name is Barbara," she whispered. "You shouldn't be here, but he wants to keep you. That's why he's done that......" she nodded towards my hand and foot. "I don't know why he's taken you, but you should not have tried to dye your hair in the airport. He mixed chemicals in the shower cubicles to react with conditioners........" I could see there were tears in her eyes. She reached out and brushed strands of hair from my sweat soaked face.
"Things won't be easy. You'll need to learn..." she broke off, a panicked look in her eyes. "I have to go." She darted from the room.
The dream then jumped and it was a month and a half later. I was still in the room, but was allowed to walk around as and when I wanted. My meals were served in there and I had to perform ablutions behind a screen. Despite my right hand being the dominant, I still found it very difficult to manage certain tasks.
One morning, after I had eaten breakfast and had washed and dressed, the door opened and the 'doctor' returned. This time, he wore no coat, and had on the same blue suit as before. He carried a small spray in his hand and indicated that I should hold out my left hand. Thinking that this was some form of medicine, I did as instructed, flinching as the ice cold fluid landed on my skin.
After a few seconds, I began to feel extremely nauseous. I stumbled to the bed, trying to lie down lest I fell and injured myself. Then, the b*****d raped me.
I must have passed out, because the next thing I know, Barbara was in the room and daubing my face with antiseptic cream. My vision was blurred and I realised that my lip was swollen. I could taste blood and the rest of my body felt as though it was on fire. It hurt to inhale. I could just make out her muffled sobs and realised that she was shaking her head. "That's it," she kept saying. "We need to escape. He can't continue with this."
The dream then jumped once more and I found myself in another hospital room, but this time, I was talking with a uniformed female officer. She was dressed like an American policewoman and all I recall is her telling me that the "doctor" had killed himself after shooting Barbara when he discovered that she had smuggled me out of the building.
That's all I recall. Not a very pleasant dream at all.
I had just finished rinsing out the dye and had called on George, when I suddenly felt myself becoming very weak and very dizzy. I recall sliding down the cubicle wall and then feeling myself slip into a sickening blackness.
When I returned to consciousness, I was lying in a room that had windows all along one wall. For a moment, I thought that I was in a corporate skyscraper somewhere, because the glass of the windows seemed to be the polarized temperature adapting type. I noticed that my left hand was bandaged, as was my left foot. An intravaneous drip led into my right arm. Midway down the tube, an extra bag had been attached that allowed a pink coloured solution to merge with the clear fluid coming through the tubes and into my veins. For some reason, I knew that this pink substance was a form of analgesic opiod painkiller and that explained why I was feeling quite 'woozy' and why, when I had tried to lift my arm to study the bandages, I had felt 'drunk'.
I tried to call out, but my lips were very dry and my throat was parched. The bed I was in was not standard hospital issue. The sides were made of a grid-like plastic / polymer that felt metallic. Monitors were built into these grids and every so often, there would come a 'sshhhhink-shhhinkk' noise and the monitors would record information.
I have no clue as to how long I lay there, but eventually, a man entered the room. He looked like the cliché American / Australian surfer type and wore a blue suit with a white doctor's coat over it.
I immediately took a dislike to him.
He said nothing, approaching the bed with an assessing expression on his face. Almost as though he were considering something that I was certainly not going to be privy to. He leaned over me, raised my left hand and started to unravel the bandage. As the gauze fell away, I cried out, hoarsely.
My thumb had been surgically removed. All that remained was a little bit of the fleshy mound and the skin had been stitched immaculately so as to leave a miniscule scar. He re-dressed the area and then progressed to my foot. Having seen my hand, I had started trying to wiggle my toes because I had a sneaking suspicion that something would certainly be amiss with my left metatarsals.
My left big toe had received the same treatment. All I could do was sob. I couldn't ask why this had happened and he offered no explanation. Again, he re-dressed the area and left the room. I fell into sleep once more.
When I woke for the second time, I found a woman staring at me. She was approximately forty-ish and had mid length blonde hair and wore baggy clothes. For some reason, I thought she reminded me of Emma Thompson.
"My name is Barbara," she whispered. "You shouldn't be here, but he wants to keep you. That's why he's done that......" she nodded towards my hand and foot. "I don't know why he's taken you, but you should not have tried to dye your hair in the airport. He mixed chemicals in the shower cubicles to react with conditioners........" I could see there were tears in her eyes. She reached out and brushed strands of hair from my sweat soaked face.
"Things won't be easy. You'll need to learn..." she broke off, a panicked look in her eyes. "I have to go." She darted from the room.
The dream then jumped and it was a month and a half later. I was still in the room, but was allowed to walk around as and when I wanted. My meals were served in there and I had to perform ablutions behind a screen. Despite my right hand being the dominant, I still found it very difficult to manage certain tasks.
One morning, after I had eaten breakfast and had washed and dressed, the door opened and the 'doctor' returned. This time, he wore no coat, and had on the same blue suit as before. He carried a small spray in his hand and indicated that I should hold out my left hand. Thinking that this was some form of medicine, I did as instructed, flinching as the ice cold fluid landed on my skin.
After a few seconds, I began to feel extremely nauseous. I stumbled to the bed, trying to lie down lest I fell and injured myself. Then, the b*****d raped me.
I must have passed out, because the next thing I know, Barbara was in the room and daubing my face with antiseptic cream. My vision was blurred and I realised that my lip was swollen. I could taste blood and the rest of my body felt as though it was on fire. It hurt to inhale. I could just make out her muffled sobs and realised that she was shaking her head. "That's it," she kept saying. "We need to escape. He can't continue with this."
The dream then jumped once more and I found myself in another hospital room, but this time, I was talking with a uniformed female officer. She was dressed like an American policewoman and all I recall is her telling me that the "doctor" had killed himself after shooting Barbara when he discovered that she had smuggled me out of the building.
That's all I recall. Not a very pleasant dream at all.
Wednesday 28 January 2009
I'm not a Trekkie, but I do like to watch the occasional episode of Star Trek - Next Generation and Voyager. I would kill for Seven of Nine's figure, but I digress.
When I was in hospital a week and half ago - female problems -long story. I had quite a strange dream involving Star Trek.
It started with me as Seven of Nine and I had been appointed Captain of the Enterprise as Jayneway had disappeared. I was wearing some soft flowing blue gown (I have no clue whether 7 of 9 has ever worn this as I have only ever seen episodes where she is in a one-piece skintight costume).
The viewing/communication screen looked as though it had huge crystalline pipes around it that glowed translucent green and blue. The screen itself was white, but seemed opalescent, almost as though there was static going back and forth across it. I know that I was staring at the screen in shock. I had just been informed that the Enterprise was never to return to any port in the galaxies that we had travelled. For what reason, I do not know and it was never revealed to me in the dream.
I began issuing commands to check the stock levels for foods, fuel, necessities etc. We had approximately three weeks' worth. I knew that we were to be cast adrift and had become interstellar outcasts. No race would touch us - friend or foe and that once the supplies were finished, we would starve. My poor vessel would be left drifting until she was picked up for scrap or suffered an impact with something.
For some insane reason, I had some people from the sick bay (probably the other women in the ward) with me and all I was concerned about was getting them home as they had no part in why the vessel had been 'disowned'. I knew that they were going to die with me and the others. It was just a matter of time.
Unable to bring myself to tell the crew and passengers immediately, I left the bridge and found myself wandering alone through an empty corridor. It was as though I had been sealed in a vacuum because I couldn't hear the "normal" noise of the ship operating. No hum or miniscule vibration of engines and not the normal chit-chat as the crew went about their duties. Feeling sorely isolated, I sank to my knees and wept. I was not fit to be a Captain. Whatever had happened to cause the ex-communication of the Enterprise and her crew was obviously down to something that I had done and yet, I could not figure out what it was.
After a time, I steeled myself and returned to the bridge, calling a conference to all on the vessel. I explained the situation and when asked for the reasons why this was happening, could not reply. Oddly, the majority of the crew took the punishment in their stride. Some grumbled but accepted that there was nothing that could be done as our escape pods and emergency beacons had been disabled remotely by Starfleet Command and nothing would override that. A while later, I found the bridge to be suddenly devoid of people. I don't know how long I had sat with myself and my despondence, but I could feel that the top and skirt of my gown were wet with tears that I had obviously shed. I spoke out:
"Acting Captain's Log. Stardate....unneccessary. As Acting Captain for USS Enterprise, I feel that any further journal records dictated will be a waste of time as this vessel and her children shall never see their homes again. I can only say that I have served Starfleet faithfully and hope that perhaps, should this craft ever be recovered intact or the recorder found floating in some belt of space dust and debris, that the entries made by Captain Jayneway previous to this show her dedication to Starfleet, this vessel and her crew. I am glad that she will not suffer the fate that we will. I would rather have had the craft blown from the stars than let the people suffer. Know that despite Starfleet's horrendous judgement upon the USS Enterprise, I still feel honoured to have served. Seven of Nine."
At that point, the bridge door way slid open with that whoosh you always hear and Jean Luc Picard strolled right in! I was convinced that I was hallucinating, but he said that he had jumped forward to try and save us, but the device had disintegrated and that he would be dying on the vessel too. I was petrified of him! All I could think of in my head was how terrifying that bald pate was. He tried to come towards me to tell me more information and I shot him!
I woke up at that point and discovered that I had ripped out the cannula in my arm because of my thrashing around. Thank goodness I didn't wake any of the other women.
When I was in hospital a week and half ago - female problems -long story. I had quite a strange dream involving Star Trek.
It started with me as Seven of Nine and I had been appointed Captain of the Enterprise as Jayneway had disappeared. I was wearing some soft flowing blue gown (I have no clue whether 7 of 9 has ever worn this as I have only ever seen episodes where she is in a one-piece skintight costume).
The viewing/communication screen looked as though it had huge crystalline pipes around it that glowed translucent green and blue. The screen itself was white, but seemed opalescent, almost as though there was static going back and forth across it. I know that I was staring at the screen in shock. I had just been informed that the Enterprise was never to return to any port in the galaxies that we had travelled. For what reason, I do not know and it was never revealed to me in the dream.
I began issuing commands to check the stock levels for foods, fuel, necessities etc. We had approximately three weeks' worth. I knew that we were to be cast adrift and had become interstellar outcasts. No race would touch us - friend or foe and that once the supplies were finished, we would starve. My poor vessel would be left drifting until she was picked up for scrap or suffered an impact with something.
For some insane reason, I had some people from the sick bay (probably the other women in the ward) with me and all I was concerned about was getting them home as they had no part in why the vessel had been 'disowned'. I knew that they were going to die with me and the others. It was just a matter of time.
Unable to bring myself to tell the crew and passengers immediately, I left the bridge and found myself wandering alone through an empty corridor. It was as though I had been sealed in a vacuum because I couldn't hear the "normal" noise of the ship operating. No hum or miniscule vibration of engines and not the normal chit-chat as the crew went about their duties. Feeling sorely isolated, I sank to my knees and wept. I was not fit to be a Captain. Whatever had happened to cause the ex-communication of the Enterprise and her crew was obviously down to something that I had done and yet, I could not figure out what it was.
After a time, I steeled myself and returned to the bridge, calling a conference to all on the vessel. I explained the situation and when asked for the reasons why this was happening, could not reply. Oddly, the majority of the crew took the punishment in their stride. Some grumbled but accepted that there was nothing that could be done as our escape pods and emergency beacons had been disabled remotely by Starfleet Command and nothing would override that. A while later, I found the bridge to be suddenly devoid of people. I don't know how long I had sat with myself and my despondence, but I could feel that the top and skirt of my gown were wet with tears that I had obviously shed. I spoke out:
"Acting Captain's Log. Stardate....unneccessary. As Acting Captain for USS Enterprise, I feel that any further journal records dictated will be a waste of time as this vessel and her children shall never see their homes again. I can only say that I have served Starfleet faithfully and hope that perhaps, should this craft ever be recovered intact or the recorder found floating in some belt of space dust and debris, that the entries made by Captain Jayneway previous to this show her dedication to Starfleet, this vessel and her crew. I am glad that she will not suffer the fate that we will. I would rather have had the craft blown from the stars than let the people suffer. Know that despite Starfleet's horrendous judgement upon the USS Enterprise, I still feel honoured to have served. Seven of Nine."
At that point, the bridge door way slid open with that whoosh you always hear and Jean Luc Picard strolled right in! I was convinced that I was hallucinating, but he said that he had jumped forward to try and save us, but the device had disintegrated and that he would be dying on the vessel too. I was petrified of him! All I could think of in my head was how terrifying that bald pate was. He tried to come towards me to tell me more information and I shot him!
I woke up at that point and discovered that I had ripped out the cannula in my arm because of my thrashing around. Thank goodness I didn't wake any of the other women.
Sunday 23 November 2008
First post
Okay, so the only blogging I've ever done is the MK's Dreams via AOL, but now AOL have informed me that AOL Blogs will be closing, therefore, I had to seek pastures new. *le sigh*
This blog will mainly be about the crazy and downright 'What on Earth did she have before bed?' dreams that I experience almost every day. I shall warn you now, some seem like a whole episode of the X-Files, but if you are into something like that, then I suppose you'll enjoy reading! LOL.
Now, if anyone has had similar dreams like the ones I will eventually add to the blog, please feel free to post comments, or even just comment on what you think of what is written.
I would kindly request that any poster commenting on this blog be respectful to myself and also to others. I have created this to be somewhat informative and also to see if others are interested.
Take care
KM
x
This blog will mainly be about the crazy and downright 'What on Earth did she have before bed?' dreams that I experience almost every day. I shall warn you now, some seem like a whole episode of the X-Files, but if you are into something like that, then I suppose you'll enjoy reading! LOL.
Now, if anyone has had similar dreams like the ones I will eventually add to the blog, please feel free to post comments, or even just comment on what you think of what is written.
I would kindly request that any poster commenting on this blog be respectful to myself and also to others. I have created this to be somewhat informative and also to see if others are interested.
Take care
KM
x
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