Who Knew Freddy Was a Good Lover?

WARNING: This is a long, R rated entry that discusses bloodplay, sex, gore, brief mention of child molestation, and Dom/sub themes, if any of this bothers you, or you are not of age to view this material, please leave now. You have been warned. Flames (nasty replies) will be talked about rudely, and then deleted. That is all.

-Danielle

Apparently my subconscious did. Perhaps not Freddy Kruger the character himself, but what he represents to me.

I awoke this morning gasping after having yet another disturbing dream. I was in many different places, but the most unnerving part began when I was in this creepy animal rescue place where the staff had a sick view of what was deemed okay. There was blood and gore everywhere, and things were butchered up. I remember holding one of the snakes in my hand, and it did not feel like a snake, exactly. It felt slimy, like it was in my glove. It hatched out of its egg right into my hand. I don’t know if I can fully explain it.

Anyway, I grew increasingly queasy as I was shown more by my ever-so-proud guide, an all-too-cheerful woman who seemed to enjoy her work too much. For some reason, Argus Filch was present as a sort of groundskeeper, or whatever it is that he does in the Harry Potter books. He spent the whole time skulking around and making comments. He had this vendetta against me for no reason at all. I suppose that he was playing the Majorly Bitter For No Damned Good Reason card.

As the tour ended, Filch tried to close me up in the room with all of the blood, freakish animals, strange equipment, etc. I kicked at the door as best that I could, sometimes breaking away pieces, and the cheerful woman helped to pull the door open. Out of nowhere, Freddy Kruger came in with a chainsaw. All of these people, who were not in the tour room, but were in the main area, starting freaking out because Freddy started swinging his chainsaw.

I ran straight for the door and down a perfectly normal suburban street. I did my best to run as fast as I could, but as always in dreams, I was unnaturally slow when I truly needed to get away from somone actually behind me. (When there is no one directly behind, I run at the speed of light.) Of course, as my opposite, Freddy ran exceedingly fast, and caught up to me in no time.

This is where things got weird. I ceased to be myself, and Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe version, not my own imagination’s take) stood in my place. He asked what happened to Dudley. Freddy informed him that he was splattered everywhere because he screamed. Harry felt sick, and asked if it was the truth. Freddy told him that it was, and that he better not scream, or the same would happen to him. He also told Harry that since he had been good, he would get something.

Freddy then dragged Harry into a city alleyway that was, for some reason, in that suburb. He proceeded to give Harry an excellent blowjob. Harry made certain to clamp his hand over his mouth so that he would not be heard. After Freddy was done, Harry thanked him for the, um, ‘attentions’, and said that he could not go along with him, as Freddy was evil and all. He pulled up his pants, and a crowd of teenagers came out of nowhere to back Harry. One of which was Dudley’s girlfriend.

Then Harry disappeared, and I was there again, and the scene replayed, only without the other teenagers, and the speech. I would say that I was utterly horrified by this dream, but this is not the first time that I have dreamt that I had something sexual going on with Freddy Kruger, or another movie sicko killer.

I’ve had dreams where I was with Jason and Leatherface (the killer from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre). With LF, I was in a room with twin beds (several of them), and everything was shadowed (including LF’s face). People (his family) kept walking by the open door, and smiling because they knew what was going to happen to me. Eventually, LF came in and had sex with me. I did not fight it because I was scared out of my mind.

I don’t think any of this means that I am simply dying to dated psycho killers, but in fact goes back to the Dom/sub itch that’s been poking about for a while. Even though the men in question are all extremely dangerous, they never go out of their way to harm me to the point of threatening my life. Even though the sex is technically rough, there is a certain amount of care that is going into the act itself. Sure, I was frightened, and I feared for my life (I mean come on, look at their track records with people!), but I was never truly harmed.

As the dreams go on, I will wake, only for it to be carried on a bit longer. I noticed the fact today that it was not only my desire to develope a somewhat safe ‘dangerous’ relationship, but the men were essentially teaching me how to be a Dom. This morning Freddy prodded me, and asked why I cowered, and did not scream or fight. I told him that I was scared. We went on to have a conversation about my liking the bites and scratches. He asked me why I did not return the treatment, as I was clearly an aggressive person. I told him again that I was afraid. He basically told me that if he truly wanted to harm me, he could have, but there was a type of relationship he wanted. He also asked why I did not kiss him (No, he was not disfigured, he was attractive for some reason.), and wanted to know if I saw the multiple encounters we had had by then as ‘just sex’. I sort of nodded and stayed mute, but it did not make him very angry.

It was all sort of enlightening about myself and the way I view relationships. I got to see once more that I expect a certain treatment; therefore, I accept it when there is a stronger force around that could harm me. But isn’t that human nature to accept the terms of a person cutting you with a knife as they are speaking to you? I was simply trying to stay alive a little longer.

But the care with which he dealt with me could be called “tender”, when compared to the fact that he was still butchering people on a regular basis. He would go out and chop and kill, and then I would come over, and we would have sex. There would be huge slightly bleeding ‘love bites’, but nothing compared to the scale of gore covering the walls after he was done with other people.

As the relationship goes on, I return the rougher elements, and Freddy does admit to spying on me. I think once he used his observations of my aggression when provoked against me, it changed the dynamic of our relationship.

The first time I dreamt about Freddy, I was about eight or so. I remember riding on a horse with a henchman who was trying to catch up with a stagecoach. When we caught up, Freddy was in the back. He spoke to me, and drew me close. I remember him lifting my dress and shredding my panties with the razored blades that he wore. I woke up after that.

*sighs*

This morning’s dream, and extention were a bit more in depth, but I’ve written enough here. I think that I might want to make this a story or something. Why let a perfectly good/inspiring dream like this get away?

*sighs* I feel a bit tired.

Danielle

P.S. Yes, JanuaryGirl, I cannot help but get into trouble. =D