Dream Journal: Toe

This is a recurring dream. I've had it maybe 5-6 times over the course of several years.

I mockingly call this dream ‘Satan’s Little Helper’ because of the transparent Hell-motive. Transcribed above is what happened the first time I had this dream. I’ve had it several times since and always remembered I had been in this situation before, so I adapted. I only adapted in making the ‘job’ easier for myself, not by refusing the ‘job’ or going off course in any way. Somehow, that seems impossible. I cannot describe enough in words how absolutely terrifying this dream is, to the degree that I’m happy I don’t believe in Hell. The worst part is being alone; there is no explanation as to where I am or why am I there. In the dream I’m also not freaking out by all of this, I’m just acting like it’s a job that needs to be done…maybe that is the most terrifying aspect of all.

I’m in a slaughterhouse. It’s a large hangar with white tiles on the floor and walls. There’s blood everywhere. The air is dirty with flies and there’s a nauseating smell. All around me are dead bodies, stacked on top of each other in grotesque piles of naked people. Some are hanging on hooks and occasionally a new body comes crashing on the floor through some sort of chute. I’m the only living person there. I’m dressed as a butcher, with a leather apron. I’m wearing a mask like an executioner. Over a loudspeaker I hear a harsh metallic voice. I don’t understand the words but I know it’s shouting commands at me. My job is to drag the bodies on top of metallic stairs that are in the middle of the hangar. Once there I can throw them into a giant furnace. I drag a man’s dead body to the foot of the stairs, but he’s too heavy to lift on my shoulders and carry. The metallic voice on the intercom is getting more angry. I look around the hangar and I find a hatchet and a large sack. I take off my mask and start hacking at the dead bodies, removing their limbs, chopping off their heads and splitting their torsos. I put parts of them, randomly, in the sack making sure it’s not too heavy to drag up the stairs. I’m completely covered in blood now and I’m wiping off pieces of flesh on my apron. I carry the sack up the stairs and once up there is a small platform. I look down and watch the greedy flames of the furnace which is the biggest I have ever seen. I toss limb by limb into the fire, my eyes transfixed on the flames. When my sack is empty I go down again and repeat the process. Somehow I know this is my job for the rest of my existence.