Pink Piggy

This is going to sound strange – I have a nightmare last night.  Why is that strange?  I don’t have nightmares, at least not the kind that cause me to not be able to go back to bed.  Usually bad dreams become fodder for stories.  I don’t know that this one ever will.

The nightmare was about me as a little boy, maybe eight or nine years old.  There was a little girl as well.  She had dark hair with Shirley Temple curls and she was wearing a white dress, the kind they used to call an Easter dress that would be too formal these days.  I don’t know exactly what was wrong with her, but she couldn’t speak.

My uncle (and I knew it was my uncle despite the man not looking like him at all) was furious with me that I was “faking being sick”.  In truth I was dizzy and disoriented in the dream, and I felt like I was going to pass out.  He claimed I was faking.  Then, when it was clear I wasn’t lying, he claimed the girl had caused me illness.  He put her in his truck, an old, beat-up truck that I’ve never seen in my life, and drove her off into the distance.  The whole time I was crying, “Don’t!  That’s what they want you to do!  They want you to hurt her!”

My mother (who was not my mother, but that was the role this woman played in my dream) tried to calm me down, but my crying went from frantic to…something darker.  I grew angry, furious even, and finally began screaming at my mother.  I remember the words…I swear I could never forget them and after waking I wouldn’t utter them in my apartment.  I was screaming “pink piggy!”

I have no idea what those words meant.  However, as I yelled, my face peeled away, revealing bone and gristle.  I kept screaming “pink piggy!” but I was trying to admit to my mother that I had killed the little girl, and I was strangling my mother as I did, a raw headed monster with blood filled eyes.  This part of the dream was in third person, not first as the rest had been, and the skull headed child I had been turned right at me and with an evil leer yelled at me, “PINK PIGGY!”  When I say it yelled at me, I mean at ME, the dreamer, not at anything else in the nightmare.

I woke up with my heart racing and my breath tight in my chest.  I got up, turned on all the lights and sat with my cat for the rest of the night.  I don’t know where any of that came from, and I’ll be honest, I’m a little afraid to go back to sleep tonight.  As I said, I wouldn’t say those words in my apartment…wouldn’t say them in the car on the way to work.  Wherever that dark nightmare came from, the one thing I am sure of is it wasn’t from me.

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