I had a disturbing dream. It involved the side of my mouth clamped, around the cheek area, and then ripped slowly apart by female asylum patients. I felt my skin stretching until it reached its limit. And the sickening sound of my flesh ripping ensued.

I yelled in pain, pleaded, but the doctor stood there, laughing maniacally at my plight. Those patients proceeded to clamping the other side of my mouth and repeated the process. With my cheek muscles torn, blood blossoming on the white floor, I gazed towards the side; they were doing the same thing to a woman. She was shrieking.

The doctor then grinned, her eyes widened and she bellowed, ‘I warned you’. She shrieked with mad laughter again. My groggy memory had told me that I had prosecuted those female patients of a heinous crime. I did not remember what, but whatever they did had done to me was for revenge, as much as pleasure.

They released me, and perhaps my presence of mind was affected. I did not find it odd that they had let me go. The first thing I did was head to the washroom far away but on the same level. There seemed to be no mirrors in the dingy space. I turned to look at the occupants using the urinals, only to be thoroughly shocked.

Presumably victims just as I was, but subject to worse torture and humiliation. Their heads were abnormal, one was transplanted with a grotesque head of a bull dog; his eyes were brimming with trauma. The other one had a greyish body part (no doubt decaying), sewn where his mouth was. The eyes on this one was eerily expressionless, piteously deadened. Was it the doing of that mad doctor?

Immediately I took the lifts to a higher level where the courts and police departments were. I had to report the injustice.

I passed two teenage girls, with unnaturally swollen eyes of yellow. They chanted a spell of grievance, while a strange aura built around them. Nevertheless I spoke to them, gathering that they were invoking black magic to gain justice. I reminded them, despite my ripped jaw and dripping blood, of the tenet for witches: Harm none. The highest principle of witchcraft (Wicca) was to harm no one.

This was getting confusing. First torture and then the presence of magick in this world. What was my identity? I knew only that I had suffered great injustice and saw it happening to the people around me. I knew I was one of those who upheld the laws. But what was happening? In the very same building where I was a victim of torture, the courts and law enforcement resided on a higher level. What is happening to law?

I continued on my way to meet an important person. He would be able to do something. His name was Mike (short for Michael). I knew I had worked with him before and remembered him to be a close friend. However, just as my profession eluded my memory, I do not know his profession.

As I entered the law enforcement office, I noticed the crowd. Some sat on the benches. And there I saw her (Veronica, the name I sensed was her’s) the other victim in the asylum. Her jaws were in the same state as mine. But they seemed healed except for a deep scarring of raw flesh. I felt mine, they too had healed. Could it have been the magick that governed the world I was in?

Before I could figure out why, she gestured urgently to me to look at the front. There stood my certain someone (a friend who I’ll name X) whose dressing indicated power, behind Mike. Ethereal face displaying the beauty of innocence, X had risen to be Mike’s assistant. In this dream world, X and I were a couple. I expected the look of concern but X panicked upon seeing me, then turned to Mike pointing towards the meeting hall.

X was trying to prevent Veronica and me from seeing Mike! A suspicion formed in my head, as Mike moved towards the hall. Veronica and I ran after him to divulge the horrors that happened to us, under the law’s nose.

This is the point when I cannot remember what happened next. All I knew was that I woke up feeling intense sadness. I was still feeling the after-effects of the dream. Imagine your lover not to be who he/she is. A person who betrays your heart, pretending to love you. The person directly responsible for your ripped jaw. The law official who is guilty of corruption, who is supposed to cover up for the mad ass in the asylum. I felt really ripped apart. Fucking hell!

Alas! It wasn’t real… And it isn’t much comfort either. In real life, that certain person has enslaved my heart.

Anyway, on reflection, I think there are certain points of the dream which are symbolic. For instance, the name ‘Mike’, which is short for Michael. I believe it makes references to the archangel, Michael. Aside that, the way I keep talking about injustice; I am actually intrigued by the subject of law. The part about magick, made reference to my connection to Wicca in the past. The way I notice the eyes of the victims is a reference to how I relate to them; it was symbolic to my past depression.

Ah! I want X… On second thoughts, was my certain someone a victim of the mad doctor? Aw, maybe I have wronged X. It hurts man. Fine! I’m the crazy one.

P.S. Maybe I should do a short story on this. Of course using this as an inspiration only…

- Logen