Last night, I dreamed that there was a psychic who was trying to convince a woman she was in danger of being murdered. The murderer was someone the woman trusted--maybe a friend. He or she (never grasped the gender of the killer) would kill by slicing someones throat.
I'm not sure who I was in the dream. Maybe the psychic? Or maybe my identity changed through the dream. At one point, I was in a car with the woman and trying to convince her of the danger she was in. I gave a passionate speech about having an open-mind, and my speech did the trick. The potential victim began to believe me.
I woke up from the dream with this feeling I should write the dream in my blog. I don't know why.
My only problem was I really did not know how to relate it to Australia. I thought of turning it into some dumb symbolic essay about vigilance and paranoia. Where do you draw the line? If someone warns you about danger, do you listen or ignore it? If you're warned about crocodiles in a body of water, do you avoid going in, or do you laugh it off and take a swim?
Then I went back to sleep and returned to the dream. This time the potential murder victim had an identity. She was Nicole Kidman. I thought that was funny. It's like my dreaming mind found a way to make it about Australia.
The dream was frightening, but also exciting--kind of like one of those cheesy thrillers on the Lifetime channel.
The murderer lived in the same house (BIG house) as Kidman. We had a police officer or lawyer there walking with me, Kidman, and the murderer. It's like we knew the killer was guilty, but the police couldn't take her away. I walked the police (or whatever) to the door and when I came back the murderer and Kidman were gone. I was angry at myself for leaving them alone. I went upstairs to search for them and found them under a bed. Kidman looked dead. I started strangling the murderer who had this evil maniac kind of laugh. Then Kidman woke up. She wasn't dead after all.
The creepiest part of the dream finding a room that belonged to the killer. She had tons of photos of Kidman--indicating how obsessed he/she was.
It really was like one of those made-for-television thrillers.