"Candyman Is Coming"
05/06/2009
Dream #1
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I was a detective, in this dream, and I was investigating a recent wave of deaths that were being blamed on the fabled "Candyman" (from the movie - but, in the dream, it was like the movie didn't exist, and he was an actual urban legend). I remember a brief period of riding around the city on a motorcycle, trying to get to these crime scenes as quickly as I could, so that I could either prove or disprove Candyman's existence. I don't recall much of the riding, but I know that I had a really fast bike, and I would sometimes take the turns by squeezing the front brake for stability and gunning the engine so the rear tire skid as it spun, kicking the back end of the bike out to drift around the tight corners at high speed. Every time I would show up at the scene after a call, though, it would be too late. The person would already be dead, and the killer would be nowhere in sight. All of the deaths were gruesome. The victims were all either gutted completely or just gored beyond recognition. The puncture wounds and lacerations all seemed as though they actually could have come from the Candyman's hook, though I remained skeptical of the supernatural implications of the murders.
Later, there was a pattern shown to be forming, and people who were dying were all known to have come down with a certain type of illness before their brutal deaths. They would all be sick to their stomachs, nauseated, and disoriented. It was really the only piece of information that I had, aside from the bodies, themselves. I ended up going to a multi-story building that was a mixture between a high-rise apartment building, and what kind of reminded me of my old office at B&B. I had raced there as fast as I could, and had shown up (in what must have been) seconds after another murder. While I was going around and questioning some of the people in the building, I started to get this sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.
At first, I didn't know what it was, and I continued doing my job. Then, it began to grow more and more severe, until I was practically doubled over, holding my gut. I felt the urge to leave the office, immediately, and started looking for the stairs. The more I looked around for them, the more I began to realize that I was lost. I was so disoriented that it was like the building was shifting, and the stairs were nowhere to be found. Anxiety and claustrophobia were creeping in, and I was frantically searching for a way out, but it seemed as if I was going through the same hallways over and over. I knew that something was definitely wrong, not only with my condition, but with the entire situation.
Moving through one of the hallways, I started thinking about the murders - and the urban legend. "There's no way," I thought to myself. I wasn't even going to begin to take the possible connection seriously - that is until the florescent light above me suddenly shorted out. I kept moving, feeling sick, trying to find my way out of this maze of corners and doors, and as I ran, more and more lights over my head started flickering and bursting into showers of white sparks. I noticed that the trail of malfunctioning lights was actually following me, strobing or darkening patches of only the hallways I ran through. I began getting the feeling that I was being followed, and the sickness in my stomach was getting worse. There was no doubt in my mind, by now, that the Candyman stories were real, and that he was coming after me.
I was finally able to find a winding stairwell and ran down it, flickering lights following me the whole way. When I got down to the bottom floor, I still found myself running through hallway after hallway, all of them seeming to double back on themselves, just as they had done on the levels above. Now, my relationship with this building somehow changed, and I knew that I actually had my own room behind one of these doors. It was now more like an apartment building than the office setting that was more dominant, upstairs. The last thing I remember is getting to my door and it being locked from the inside. I kept trying as hard as I could to pull it open, feeling death looming in on me, all of the lights around me strobing wildly, as if the ghostly killer would be showing up any second.
That's all, though.
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