Matt's Alien Dreamwomen

I dreamt last night that I was in Africa. I was by a body of water, like a lake, on a short beach. On the beach was a pick-up truck, filled by soldiers and shoulders. The truck was facing the water with the engine facing the water, on a slant. There were men with their feet on a board. Next to me, was a leader, a king or a general, of Africa. They were conducing a ritual, in which I was to take place, along with this other black man. The feet on the board were holding down a shark in the water. The man told me that we were going to let the shark bite our wrists to let the blood into the water. He did so, climbing onto the plank and putting his left arm into the water before him. I followed and I saw the shark’s gray head outlined by the white of his muzzle underneath the water and the plank between him and me. I put my left wrist into the water, as my man did. The shark bit me and cut my arm open from my wrist to my elbow with his sharp teeth. The wound gashed, my limb went numb and felt like it was dying, like a cold phantom. My arm was bleeding. I decided to mend my arm myself, as the wound was not deep. It seemed to be healing when I turned my wrist around to find three cuts on my forearm, unbleeding and too deep. These cuts were like the shark’s gills.

I awoke thinking I should go to the hospital. I looked at my left arm, intact, and saw that it was thinner than in my dream, such that the gaping wounds on my forearm could not have existed. I saw a new scar on my thumb and felt the grittiness of a once-broken wrist, memories of painful ninja holds.