Of hair dye, waltzes, and clowns

> A few notes before the dream itself.

I personally do not dream often. Or, I dream but I don't remember. I know of course that it is a game of coincidence and waking times, but I cannot help but explain it with the weirdness of the few dreams I remember. Clearly they were bizzarre enough to leave an impression on my brain. This is the last dream I had, about a few months ago. It is, of course, weird and nonsensical, but you can try to read into it whatever you desire about my person and my life. I'm curious about any and all interpretations, since I've read too much into it myself already. 

Also, listen, this wasn't a nightmare, but my dreams do tend to be a bit morbid. Mind the TWs.

> TWs: mentions of rotting and corpses (and therefore death), mild swearing, unreality, violence, clowns . Also loss of control maybe? Its not framed necessarily as negative, but still.

It starts with a party in an abandoned house in Somewhere, London. 

To be more precise, it starts with purple hair dye sitting on my bathroom counter. It's 6 something a.m., and in one hour, i have to leave to catch the bus. Since i usually wake up at 6:40 tho, i feel like i'm very early. I have enough time to dye my hair purple, i decide, which turns out to be a bad idea. Dying hair takes more than an hour, but when i go to my mother to tell her this i'm already compromised. 

I'll stay home from school, we decide, and for some reason she takes it upon herself to text my class rep to let them know i won't be there today. She's texting sentences in full kanji. Was i weirded out? Absolutely. Did i accept it as normal when i saw the news on TV were in hangul? Yes.

How does this connect to the party in Somewhere London, you ask. The truth is, I don't know. I blacked out here, or something, but at the party i still had my purple hair, so it's the same psychedelic dream, it just has a time skip. 

The party didn't last that long anyway: someone called the cops on us. I went down to the basement of this house thing. It was labirinthic, and i ducked into a dead end behind a crumbling cement pillar while waiting for one of the cops to walk by. I became incredibly interested in the floor. 

It was checkered, but in the middle of it there were rubick cubes, just dropped over a few cardboard sheets. I moved the cubes, lifted the cardboard sheets, and it turns out the checkered floor had caved in there, leaving a hole big enough to go through.

That sentence alone should foreshadow that i did jump down the hole immediately, down to a lower floor, illuminated by flickering neon lights, reflecting off of the faded yellow wallpaper and dirty floors. If this description makes you think of the backrooms, it's because they were the backrooms. 

A large corridor stretched out where i landed, but it wasn't empty, and different people were walking around, clearly a bid confused. When i looked up, the hole was gone, i think, so i joined the wandering people.

We ended up in a room with an incredibly high ceiling, and tiles stretching across the floor. There was soft music playing, and many, many almost transparent strings hanging from the ceiling. Attached to the strings, like marionettes, were people. There were robots too, i think, and other beings that were humanoid in shape and nothing else, but everyone was held up and moved around, following the dance steps dictated by the Waltz playing. 

The Waltz was eternal. There was no ending to it, the disc would keep turning and turning forever, and once caught in the the strings and steps of the dance, there was no getting out of this. You would rot between twirls and your body would keep dancing until there was nothing left for the strings to move. 

We startled when the soft voice who dictated the steps softly over the music said it was time for us to partner up with someone. And we all just moved. I think we were caught the second we heard the music. I was lucky, anyway, i didn't end up with the humanoid things, a rotting corpse, or a robot. Strings laced around me in front of a girl i could not describe you even if i tried. I don't remember anything of Her: not her face, or hair, or how she spoke or moved. I knew She was the most beautiful girl i had ever seen, and i was fine with staying here forever and dancing around for the rest of my life if it meant i could do it with her.

She smiled to me, i think, when the Waltz picked up again, and the dancing resumed. Sappy, i know, sue me, i never got my teenage romance.

Now, remember how i said the Waltz was forever? Well scratch that, because it stopped. Some people fell, i think, the strings dropping everyone as we looked around in confusion and partly fear. If something was able to stop the Waltz it must have been dangerous, because we all backtracked toward one of the exits. I was mainly upset, but angry too, that someone had dared trying to separate me and who we're going to dub The Love Of My Life.

Since it seemed everyone kind of agreed we had to leave, i grabbed her hand and booked it out. We rand down the yellow corridor until i spotted a car, kind of decayed, covered in moss and vines, like it had been rotting in the middle of the hallway for years. There was a door on both sides of the corridor beside the car, so i picked the one hidden by it the most, dragging The Love Of My Life with me.

Inside there was kind of like a victorian living room, old deceased victorian man on the armchair included. 

I choose to hide her there, promised i'd come back for her, like the cringy male leads in action movies, and went back out with single-minded intent to make Whoever had stopped my waltz pay. Turns out it was a clown. A very ugly one, too, like out of a low budget horror film trying to copy It. The fucker was coming for me, but i was not about to let him get to The Love Of My Life. No way. 

Anyway, we circled the car for a while, i think i yelled at him, and then i decided it wasn't enough, and i needed to throw hands. So i did. Spat in his face, too. In my defense, he deserved it for trying to fuck up my lesbian love story. He didn't appreciate it, clearly, because he dragged me in the room opposite to where The Love Of My Life was hiding.

I kicked and tried to free myself, i think, as he pulled me to where an arch opened in the back wall in a VERY dark hallway, which is when i realized that the fucker was trying to un-exist me. "what does that mean? Like killing?" you ask. Not exactly: apparently (and this was obvious and a given in the dream, for some reason) when you stop being perceived, you stop existing. Which is worse, because you get like, erased from existence, past, present and future. IO was pretty offended he'd try that on me.

The clown's plan was ruined tho: when he stuck me in the dark hallway to un-exist me, the lights suddenly lit up, and we both turned to see a small child passing on a bike. I got perceived, and therefore fully existed again, and you know what you can do when you exist with a physical, space-occupying body? You can grab the closest glass shard and smash in on your enemy's face while he's distracted, which is exactly what i did. I didn't see what happened to him, as i was busy trying to thank the little child on the bike. He was gone, but i bumped into his older brother running after him with a small leather suitcase. He looked pretty victorian, too. He handed me a Mickey mouse comic from the suitcase, and took off again.

At this point i woke up, disoriented, still feeling the need to inflict further vengence on that clown, and most of all missing The Love Of My Life. I promised i'd go back for her and i didn't. I'm pretty sad about that, i hope i end up dreaming the sequel since i sometime do have the same dream twice.