Fingers

Like my other more recent dreams that I have recorded, this took sometime since I started going to college. It’s a little messed up; we will chalk it up to the stress from college.

Fingers

In my dream, I was an old man living in New York City and I would go around halfway cutting off all the fingers from my victims. I seemed to be some sort of serial offender, and I would just target anyone, and subdue them somehow and cut off their fingers at the first joint after their knuckles. The details are fuzzy, but I did this to quite a few people in my dream.

After several incidents, I was confronted by a tall, well-built and sharply dressed (think classic Zoot suit style with a fedora) black man who was very imposing. He seemed to be some detective or investigator that had discovered I was the criminal committing all of these crimes. It was late in the evening with a waning light and the sound of rushing water was very apparent for some reason. We were standing by some trees that lined a wide street, which must have been inspired by the skyscrapers and closeness of suburban Chicago (where I was living at the time), although it was NYC in my dream. There was a river on the other side of the trees which is what emanated the sound of running water. Opposite of the road was an obnoxiously long strip mall stretching along the entire road, and we stood between the road and the lined trees.

This detective had found out that I was the one going around cutting people’s fingers, and he had apparently called for backup since I could hear the incoming sirens and my impending capture. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took the giant razor blade out of my pocket that I had committed my previous crimes with, and I cut my own fingers off, in the same fashion that I had mutilated others’ hands. After cutting off my fingers down to the first knuckle, I threw the knife into the nearby river, hoping that this would be enough to frame the detective in front of me and ensure that I was perceived as the victim and let go. I didn’t get to see the result of that though, because I woke up as I stood there, bleeding out of my finger-nubs standing before the shocked detective.

Posted on August 18, 2016, in dreams. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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