Bad dreams.

I had two terrible dreams last night--if you follow my Twitter, you've already heard them:

In the first, which woke me at 5:30 AM, a girl my age comes to live with me and my family, and she has these awful, wet wounds on her throat and chest. She tells us it was a result of a wedding ceremony she performed at age 9 with the cult she belonged to--she had to make this reed and seagrass bib kind of thing that rotted away the skin on her chest, neck, and parts of her face. There were still pieces of the plants in the wound. :/ At one point, I tried to pull out the plants to clean it, and felt my own jaw start to blacken and rot--but I knew I was only feeling her disgust and pain. She was as sweet as anything, although she refused to see a doctor.

The second dream, which woke me an hour and a half later, is one I've had before. I start in a church, in the second row. I'm with my family and friends, and there's a group of guys in the row ahead of me. One looks back--he's a cute redhead with glasses and a beard (so indie :P)--and winks. I blush. For some reason, it's a 24-hour church service that starts at midnight. The group of guys goes to leave, and ask if we (my friends and I) intend to stay the whole time. I can't leave, so I watch them go (regretfully). Once they leave, however, I get the powerful feeling that they're going to die.

There's an in-between part that indicates some kind of X2-style mind control that causes under-thirties intense pain, but I can't remember much.

Now I'm in the house I lived in in eighth grade, on the street I lived on in sixth. I'm in my old bedroom with a female friend and her boyfriend, looking out the window at a blonde man in his early thirties. He's carrying a massive bow with arrows, waiting. My friend's boyfriend goes down to him--is he an ally? But it's too late for me to stop him--the blonde man shoots him, then looks up to see us in the window. He starts climbing up toward us, and I exit the other window, hoping my friend is close behind. I'm being chased by stocky guy in his mid-forties--he has a chainsaw (even in the dream I was like "Chainsaw, really?"). He chases me down by the first Sewickley house I moved into at age five, into my then-neighbor's back yard. The neighbor's three black dogs slow him, thankfully, and I hide behind a stone wall that faces the porch. Unfortunately for yours truly, he sees me behind the wall and says hello, even as I give him the universal "I'M NOT HERE." sign. I take off and try to hurdle over the fence, chainsaw guy feet behind me.

I woke up then, breathing hard. So upsetting. :( I hate bad dreams, especially when it seems I'm always getting chased.