Dream Interpreter AI™

The Cave of Musical Waters and the Vampiric Revelation

I was a member of Radiohead. We had travelled to a beautiful cave with deep pools. The song we recorded was magnificent. At the very end of the recording, I jumped into the water. The sound of the splash remained in the recording at the end of the song. Somebody handed out celebratory cigarettes, and Thom Yorke made some contemplative comment about the spiritual nature of matter. I thought immediately about such comments I had made in the past, and how irritated people had been that an artist should have opinions about things that belong to the realm of ‘scientific’ inquiry, constituting an expertise which artists ought not claim to have. Such people had damaged my curiosity and willingness to openly conjecture. But here now, listening to Thom, I felt that this was exactly the role of the artist- to conjecture, to explore the world by means of dream, which is a different form of knowing. Later, I was sitting on the limestone. Beside me there was a tupperware container full of toilet paper I had used to wipe my excrement. Somehow, on one of the pieces of soiled paper, the faeces had formed a letter- a collection of words, or rather, an image rich with meaning, addressed to my mother- which asked penetrating questions regarding the abuse of an aunt. And somehow, I could see on the toilet paper whether my mother had seen the message, or whether she was writing a reply. She had seen the message, and had begun to reply, but then stopped, and I never heard from her. Later I was at some sort of retreat or festival, where I was working in a cafe that was owned by a morbidly obese aboriginal woman. Tara was working here too. I was not very close with either woman, but they were both inseparable with each-other. The place was open for business, but the floor was cluttered with goods from a delivery that hadn’t been put away yet. A young-looking African woman came into the store, and spoke to the owner. After a few minutes, she turned to me and said, ‘I am the mirror of blood, the queen of fire, and the mother of war in Africa. You are lucky. If I want you, I will have you.” I suddenly realised in horror that she was a vampire, like Akasha from The Queen of the Damned. I immediately left the room, going through the back hallways of the cafe to another area of the festival. There I met Adam Russell, and proceeded to tell him what had just happened. He seemed very interested, and chatted with me about the strange woman. To each detail which I elaborated, he responded with ample commentary. Suddenly Tara and the cafe owner appeared and interrupted my conversation with Adam to announce they were going to the hospital. Tara had got something in her eye. I explained that I had recently got something in my eye, too, but I wouldn’t go with them. I already had a doctor appointment on Tuesday. Later, I was working with Tara at the cafe, and the African woman came again. She chatted awhile with Tara before deciding to feed me some of her blood. The manner in which she did this was to offer me two small leaves. One of the leaves contained blood instead of sap. I could see its veins. It looked like a membrane of skin. I licked the leaf gingerly. I found it disgusting, and was reluctant to taste it, but she told me I must drink more, or my joints will be stiff and immobile, and she would not abide that. But the more I tasted, the more delicious was the blood. I became very desirous of the blood, until I was ravenously, unthinkingly hungry, drinking her blood freely. When this was done, I saw that Tara had fang teeth. I realized that she was, and had always been, a vampire. She presented me with a dish of strawberries. She told me that this was her own way of taking blood- she would impregnate the strawberries with blood, and then eat the strawberries. I felt I had been initiated into a great secret.