London: once a bustling city of busy Brits, in this dream, a desolate land of people clinging to survival. What brought about this apocalyptic world? I haven’t the slightest. This nightmare began with a wide, aerial pan of the sad-looking city, and then switched to a dim room where a man was huddled underneath a blanket next to an old-fashioned radio. It was difficult to tell who the man was, if he was anybody I knew, until sound erupted from the radio. The man suddenly looked up, and I realized he looked extraordinarily like me, just malnourished and depressed. Somewhat distorted, the radio exclaimed, “Looking for a good job where water and food are supplied? (?) Pharmaceutical Company! We are looking for somewhat unhealthy subjects to bring life back to them! Apply…” Then there was silence. The man looked down again and croaked, “I could use some water.”
Suddenly, the film of sorts skipped ahead to a clean looking hospital room with a glass wall to a pleasant looking hall. The perspective was that of the same man, and I suppose I was him at the time. That is, I was actually in control. He looked somewhat healthier. A youngish female doctor entered the room and promptly gave the man (me) an injection. I wasn’t expecting to suddenly die, but I apparently did, because as soon as I slumped over, the doctor screamed and ran out the glass door. It was a strange sensation. I felt as if I was both watching myself from behind my back, and I could still hazily see through my own eyes. Everything was still, until another doctor entered. She looked far more intimidating, and her smile was not friendly. “Dr. Hyatt’s definition of death is not my own,” she remarked, as she slithered up to my motionless self with a larger syringe. By this point, I couldn’t see from a first person perspective. I watched her perform the injection from behind and above myself, a true out of body experience. Suddenly, I slid back into the husk that was once my body, but I could only see a wavy light. There was a faint roaring noise, like steam moving through pipes. The noise grew clearer and more disturbing; it began to sound like someone screeching in terror and pain (for those that have played Half Life 2, it sounded like a fast headcrab zombie). My vision came back, and then I saw something terrible. In the reflection of the glass, I saw myself, restrained in a sitting position on the hospital bed. I felt nothing but sight and sound, and was forced to observe my disgusting transformation: I was shaking and tilting in all directions, and the expression on my face resembled a hideous and furious crying infant. The screeching was coming from my somehow possessed body.
I get the feeling there was something supernatural going on, but I’d prefer not to think about that nightmare any more.