This is a dream that my friend had last night.
"The dream starts off with me in a white, rough cotton-type dress with 2 ties at the top, a loose string summer beachy dress.
I am sitting with a corpse, well more like a skeleton but bloody and with flesh still on the bone. I am cutting it grotesquely in strips but not stabbing. I knew this was the body of some guy that had hurt me. Some dude, known to dream me. Then, in the midst of all this carnage, an older man approaches. (When I thought about my dream after I woke up I thought that he was Abe Lincoln at first.) He takes my hand and takes me away and to this big castle and puts me in a room and has someone take care of me and then I am led back into his room but I am still wearing the same thing, look exactly the same but not wild. Then we have a very nice love affair. But no sex involved. Just romance. I am an object of affection.
And then I woke up extremely disturbed. I knew the image was from Goya. And I was like, that wasn’t Abe Lincoln, that was from Goya.
Goya’s life was late 18th, early 19th century, also my favorite time period, Romantic period. I had never thought about this before. My dress wasn’t from that period, but everything else. It could have been out of Heathcliff. I was younger in the dream, maybe 17, at least physically. I was . I knew it was me. I was just watching this romance take place."
