This is the entry how I posted it.
Weird Dream Tonight
Thats what put me for some reason to the idea of starting an online journal.I couldnt bring myself to write the dream down on paper.
Marilyn Manson was my boyfriend.He came over to my house, we were kissing on the bed.He was very tall, wore all black, black eyemakeup,and red lipstick.I lifted his black sweater, and saw scars on his chest and stomack.I knew they were from his shows, when he cut himself.
He was speaking very slowly, and seemed distant.
"Are you high"? I asked, though I knew he was.
"Is it Coke, or Heroin"?I knew the answer...
The slow talking, the look in his eyes...His one blue contact didnt cover how high he was.Been there, I knew what he was on.
"Tell me you snorted it, didnt shoot up, please..."I had tears in my eyes.
"I shot it up, actually I want more".
He produced a syringe ready from his bag.
He(oddly enough) shot it up into his side...
I felt something bad was about to happen.
He started cunvulsing, and his eyes rolled backwards.He overdosed.
I grabbed him, he suddenly felt so ligh to carry...I put his arm on my shoulder, he was limp, with my other hand I grabbed my wallet, checked that there was enough money for a cab.
I tried my best to run with him limp by my side, holding him, opened the door...
"Mom, he overdosed, please call me a taxi now!!"I told my mom by the door, running out.
I dragged him to the elevator.Some neighbours came out of another apartment.They started whispering that this man I'm with is famous...
I was so annoyed.Just let me get into the damn elevator...God, the elevator is so slow.
Finally downstairs, there was no taxi.I panicked.
Oh God, I was kind of carrying him while I searched for a taxi to come by.
Suddenly theres this tall goth guy, with smudged red lipstick, that looks like a Manson fan comes up to me.Smiling viciously.
"Dont bother, hes over, hes done, over".
He said with the same smile.
"Fuck You"I told him, looking around for a cab, thinking how weird that someone who obviously tried to copy Mansons look, and is probably a fan, would be so nasty about the man.
Finally I found a cab.We arrived at the hospital.
By this time in my dream Marilyn turned into a paper image cutout of himself, and I held him tightly to my stomack.
"HELP HIM, HE OVERDOSED" I yelled to the staff.
"Take him to room #(i forgot, three digits)"
"Youre the doctors, why cant you take him?Hes dying!!!Please"
I was crying.
"We dont have a doctor available for him now, you take him yourself".
I ran down some corridors, and ended up in a wrong ward.There were crazy old people walking around,wearing hospital pajamas, grabbing at me, while I held on to the paper image of Manson.
I ran out, and found the right room finally.I lay the image on a hospital bed.A doctor reluctantly came over.I was in a corridor crying...
"He's dead", the doctor told me bluntly ,"we cant do anything for him".
"NO!!!NO!!!HE CANT BE DEAD!!!NO!!!ITS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU SHOULDVE TAKEN CARE OF HIM RIGHT AWAY" I screamed at the dostors and nurses.
"You Bastards!!!!FUCK YOU ALL"
I lay on top of him, in the bed, crying my eyes out.How can he be dead?No, he cant be dead.Its all my damn fault...I shouldnt've asked mom to call a taxi, but call it myself, I got lost in the hospital...I couldve saved him, I couldve brought him here in time.
God, how I cried,I became hysterical!!!It cant be, hes dead, and its my fault!!!He is gone,no more...THIS CANNOT BE!!!
I woke up.The feeling of loss and guilt lingering on...I was shaken.Such an empty place...I lost his life...
I needed a Xanax with my morning coffee...