The girl who beckoned to me had previously forced herself onto me.
It was at work, after the shop had closed. We were just alone, this attractive, lithe Asian girl whose eyes had long suggested something between us. I was attracted but I knew that I couldn’t. I was with someone else.
Yes, it was long distance, but I had no intention of breaking our bond.
But my guard was down, and I was tired and in need of something more from my life. Already my girlfriend’s face was fading after so long an absence. This girl was here and she could offer me something that I craved.
So when I walked into the back room, and she pressed herself against me … I didn’t resist. Instead of pushing her away, my hands grabbed at her. I lifted her uniform and my hands eagerly savoured the taunt curve of her hip and waist. It was warm, soft and firm.
She lifted my shirt and her hands reached around to my back and something inside me broke in two. One half was desperate, my hands reaching up to unclasp her bra, then marvelling at the curve of the spine running down to the taunt bottom. The other half was screaming at me to stop.
I was detached from my body now. I went through the motions, pinning her against the shelf of our storeroom and thrusting wildly. We were animalistic about it. There was nothing subtle or gentle. She wanted me, and my body wanted her.
Then, it was over. Just like that.
We were breathing heavily at each other, half naked, her eyes and mouth locked in a lascivious grin, her tongue running across her lips sexily, her legs locked around me.
The conscience that was screaming for me to stop, felt raped. There was a strange sense of regret, guilt and shame about the whole thing. I had betrayed myself and my girlfriend for a quick fuck in the back room of the shop I worked at.
But my body had been separated from my human side. I was now on a strange autopilot.
As the girl hopped off my waist, and began to pull her jeans up and doing up her bra, I mimicked her motions, still in vague shock at what had happened.
Was I raped? But I engaged in it. So why does it feel like rape?
As we left the store together, the girl was holding my hand. She was leading me elsewhere. The same naughty lights in her eyes shone brightly. She wasn’t done with me yet. I could tell that she wanted another round.
Come with me her siren song sang. I know a place with a pool, I know you’ll love.
As we walked to the pool, I noticed that the night had turned dark and that there was something strange going on. She seemed to know that I was entirely under her spell. When I would reach out to grab her, she would dance away, just out to reach. When I leant in for a kiss, she would duck and pout teasingly.
Don’t be so impatient! Your reward will come soon. she sang.
In what only seemed like a short minute, we came across a huge swimming centre. It was an all glass affair with tall ceilings and a shimmering light that could only come from reflections across a huge body of water. I felt something strange tug inside of me as we neared the place.
Strangely the girl was also hesitant. However, sensing my trepidation, she pulled me forward with a determined look.
As we entered the swimming hall, a strong smell of fish assaulted my sense. I was disturbed, as was the girl, but we kept moving forward, the promise of sex somehow overcoming our nervousness.
It was then, we came across a large gym hall, with the traditional wooden floorboards and a gathering of over 100 Asian men standing around a huge collection of tanks.
We walked slowly amongst these men, their shadowy features coming into sharp focus by the movement of light bouncing off water. They looked strange, their teeth filed to narrow points and their dirty faces were smeared with something dark and viscous.
I looked in horror, as one of the men plunged his hands into a tank and pulled out a fish, and without hesitation, dropped it into boiling water, melting the poor thing instantly.
The churning water turned red instantly and the man, smiling crookedly at me, reached in with his bare hands and ate the still writhing fish with his filed teeth.
I was disgusted and horrified. Black, congealed blood sprayed upwards and onto the man’s face, which was closed in ecstasy.
Where the fuck am I? Is this some type of illegal fish market? What the hell is going on?
I could see another man gnaw the head off a lobster with his teeth, before sinking his fangs into the shell and gnashing furiously at the flesh. Soon the entire congregation of men were eating fish. The sounds of teeth smashing together, through flesh and scales churned my stomach.
My body began to shiver and the girl, now afraid, crept closer to me.
I felt sickened by the strange display before me, as rare fish after rare fish was given the boiling treatment and whilst they were alive, were crunched and savaged by these strange Asian men.
It was then though, that something began to disturb the fish. They began to trash about in their tanks, a frenzy of water erupting from their movement. Water sloshed over the tank lids as fish began to scramble every which way. Suddenly all the lights went out and the water in every tank began to pulse strangely.
The Asian men froze, their traditional robes whipping around as water splashed their feet. Suddenly the first smooth, bony blade sliced through the floor and stabbed one of the men right through the middle of his torso and lifted him in the air, gurgling and dripping blood everywhere, as he screamed and trashed in the empty air.
I stared at the blade, transfixed by its size and strange appearance. It looked like the saw from a sawfish. With its dull discolouration, sharp ridges and edges, I was struck by ancient it looked. It was also big, at least 5 metres or more long and easily the width of a large human thigh.
It was then, I saw blades burst through everywhere. Floorboards shattered underneath everyone’s feet and even the walls came alive, slicing every which way. Splinters of wood flew everywhere and suddenly everything was a frantic melee of bone-saw blades, flesh and water.
I ran away, unable to trust the floor, as saw-blades sliced through the floor, hitting men, tanks, fish and each other. It was a horrific display of ancient power. These men had angered some ancient force, some evil that had resided in this centre.
It was bizarre to see so many blades crisscross with each other, especially at one particular area in the centre of the hall, where there were nine blades all clashing, bending and rubbing furiously against each other, vying for space and targets. Not even the walls were safe as these blades shot out and stayed in place, creating obstacles for me to run and dive through.
Somehow the girl was still behind me, her mischievous smile, now replaced by a terrified gasp.
I ran blindly through the hall, ducking and dodging blades and came across a few lone survivors. One Asian man had come up with a strange technique. He had somehow grabbed one of the blades with his hands and was now using it to seal up areas where the saw-blade could come through.
With trembling, bloody hands, he made a path to the nearest window. Despite the pain and the fact that he would no longer use his hands, he continued to make a path for us, as the girl and I huddled close to him, ducking as saw blades came through gaps in the path.
Catch, seal. Catch, seal. Catch, seal.
The other survivors following us were trying to block more saw blades coming through but slowly they succumbed, the hallway to the exit soon covered in blood, saw-blades and ripped flesh.
The last Asian man smiled as he laid down the final blade in front of a window and was about to leave, when a saw blade ripped right through his chest, from behind. The strange demonic entity had shot the saw-blade from afar, whistling it past my face and right into him.
He screamed, bloody spittle spraying the air. He clawed at freedom beyond the window, but died before he could take another step. I was frozen, terrified of how close I had come to death. It was then I noticed the force of the blade had shattered the window. Acknowledging his sacrifice, I dove past him and out in the air.
The girl also leapt behind me, but just as she smiled a final sigh of relief, a saw blade punched right through her chest, in between her breasts and she tumbled forwards in mid-air.
It was horrible … as the blade drilled itself in the ground, the girl was still affixed atop the blade, her arms hanging loosely down, her face slack of any emotions, her chest open for all to see.
I stared at her, and a strange sense of relief overcame me.
My rapist is gone. She can’t tempt me anymore.
It was then, I woke up.
DON’T SLEEP is going to be a series that you won’t see often, because it deals with a very rare occurrence: my dreams.
Well, more accurately, my nightmares.
It is these type of bizarre experiences that always convinces me that going to bed early is a bad idea. I have noticed that only when I go to bed early, I get these strange dreams that eventually turn into nightmares.
I am also vaguely concerned that I got no idea where these dreams get these inspirations from either. The saw blades and the fish market are very bizarre, surrealist elements that I got no idea behind the symbolism of either of them.
To address the heavier themes in this dream, will take a bit of work, but here goes.
The feeling of rape was a truly bizarre feeling. I felt this peculiar mixture of shame, pleasure and horror and it was ridiculously confusing. I knew that everything was wrong, but somehow I derived pleasure from it. It was unpleasant to experience and I only felt more shame knowing that I cheated on my girlfriend in this dream.
It’s definitely a sign of how much I miss her, and perhaps a sign of how insanely desperate for action I am, to have these drastic and very lucid dreams.
But it doesn’t excuse the behaviour in the dream. I somehow acted like I was above it, that the girl was to blame.
That isn’t true and it’s unfair to her. Sex isn’t a one way street. So in a lot of way, my relief at seeing her dead, was a lot like a guilty man committing a blameless crime. A bizarre instinct to pin the blame on the dead, who can’t argue back.
It was such a complex issue to disguise in the trope of a horror film. The set up seems so obvious, the haunted place, the punishment of the sexually promiscuous, the strange escape and the men themselves.
I am also very puzzled why Asians were such a prevalent theme behind all the “horror.” Perhaps this has a lot to do with all the pressure the community has inflicted on me recently, and my fear of them. I have a very low opinion of them at the moment, so that probably explains why all the bizarre fish men were Asian.
I don’t know why the act of eating fish alive and cooked in that way repulsed me. Maybe it was a call back to Gollum, or something more primal inside of me. But I know that I was really disgusted by how inhumane and cruel these men were to the fish.
The saw-blades were a random inspiration. I know that when I was young, I used to say the sawfish was my favourite marine animal, but to have them appear here, as tools by a vengeful fish entity is warped to say the least. I know I was particularly repulsed by having so many blades in close proximity to each other, and that is definitely one of the defining images from this nightmare, that is seared into my mind.
The Asian girl in question, is very much an amalgamation of all the attractive features I see in Asian women. Slender, slim bodies, that can wrap around you and well … do the nasty in tight, cramped spaces. I never really pictured her face clearly, but I’m glad I didn’t because honestly, it would be a bit too much.
The idea of us having sex at my workplace’s store room is definitely a sign that I got a weird fetish about that and I’m not sure I’m comfortable knowing that now. It is gross, but hey, if nightmares or dreams don’t reveal deep things about you, then it’s not very good.
Still, her death shook me awake. I have this adverse reaction to seeing women killed, especially ones I have just made love to, even if it was regretful and hateful sex. The sight of her, looking like that scene in Cannibal Holocaust (1980) was the final straw that broke me out of that nightmare.
I felt this strange sensation of mourning the lost opportunity to touch and hold her. To see the blade come out of her chest, so soon after what had transpired earlier hit me very hard and I think that was when my consciousness stepped in and yanked me out before my dream could do any more damage.
In a lot of ways, my nightmares have always been this vividly horrible experiences that combine a lot of strange elements. I don’t have them often (mostly because I try to avoid going to bed early for this exact reason) but they are memorable and highly surreal in a horrific way.
I’m not exactly grateful that I have these nightmares, but they do open the doors to something dark inside me and occasionally I should risk a look.