dreams

Over the weekend, I read a book calling 'the making of a surgeon' on the beach. I was secretly thankful that ( I'm guessing) hardly anyone spoke english, because...well who reads a book on the beach about surgery?  It certainly doesn't advertise that I'd be an interesting girl to talk to. Shouts more that I don't know Spanish well enough to read anything in spanish (I do purchase spanish magazines and make a great show of looking at the pictures in public) and that I'm not laid back enough to enough a typical beach read. Which may be true.


It was actually incredibly intriguing. But over the past few days I have been having dreams about sticking my hands down people's throats and touching the back of their tracheas or exploring downward through their esophaguses and eventually squeezing their hearts.Or sticking my arms up their noses and performing some surgery-esque operating in their brains with my fingertips. My hands and arms shrink to needed size and miraculously stretch and bend at will. They were all frighteningly bizarre and I wake up feeling rather disturbed. I wasn't sure if was helping these people or simply causing them great pain because of my curiosity. I could simply use my fingers to thread along the top of their skin and in a piano key striking fashion separate the ligaments and muscles that laid under my fingertips until I was able to touch bone. Then I would just feel and tapped along the bone and listen to the noise it made. It was all outlandish and disturbing but still fascinating at the same time. Upon each waking I have to sit in bed and almost calm myself because my curiosity frightens me and I always need a moment to remind myself that these was all just a dreams and simply a product of my latest choice in literature. I'm thinking I should never read books about serial killers or anything else disturbing. I always dream about books much more vividly than I do about movies, you'd think it'd be the other way around because of the visual component of film. But no.