Dreaming--> L-tyrosine/valerian lucid horror nightmare where I'm reassembling a frozen head with parts from a freezer than have to be unfolded and patched up onto the skull on the spine I've assembled. I feel confident and do not sense the gore at all. In my dream I'm wondering how to warm it up from frozen and thaw it out like holding frozen chicken under warm water from a faucet. Curiously in my dream, I'm wondering how this can possibly work. I'm suprised to see an existing spine and for some reason think it'll be easy to merely push the head back onto the spine as if it's a child's toy made from lego parts. I wake in a soft wakefulless gradually reasoning through the process and realize I'd been dreaming and the entire process was absurd but having to convince myself of its absurdity. This is is tpower of L-tryrosine, a dream enhancing amino acid that has amplified the somewhat diminished power of valerian supplements that I've used for 10 years to stimulate dreams. Vitamin b6 is now added so that it helps recall. Rewrite my account of this dream in a style consistent with Edgar Allan Poe.


I dreamed beneath the strange dominion of L-tyrosine and valerian, with vitamin B6 lending its hand to memory, that I stood before a freezer whose pale interior shone like a sepulchre. Within it lay the dismembered fragments of a human head—frozen, silent, and patient.



Yet no horror attended me.



With a composure that now seems more dreadful than terror itself, I removed the pieces one by one. They were stiff with frost and required unfolding, as though they had been packed away in some grotesque domestic fashion. Before me stood a spine, already assembled, upright and waiting. Upon it I began to reconstruct the head, fitting the chilled portions together and patching them upon the skull with the calm confidence of a child arranging a toy.




The question then occurred to me: how was I to restore warmth to this frozen thing?




I imagined holding it beneath the faucet, as one might thaw a chicken beneath a stream of warm water. The notion disturbed me—not because of its obscenity, which I scarcely perceived, but because I could not comprehend how such a process might possibly succeed.

Still, the dream permitted no doubt. The head, the spine, the frozen fragments—all were governed by some obscure logic that I accepted without protest.




I was particularly surprised to find the spine already present, complete and serviceable. Surely, I thought, it would be simple to press the head back upon it, as one joins the brightly colored pieces of a child’s wooden toy. The living and the dead, the flesh and the bone, seemed to possess no greater distinction than the parts of a little construction set.




Then I awakened—or entered that uncertain borderland which lies between sleep and waking. For some time I remained without fully waking, reasoning through the procedure with solemn concentration. Slowly, reluctantly, I understood that I had been dreaming. Yet even this knowledge did not arrive as revelation. I had to persuade myself—piece by piece—that the entire undertaking had been impossible, absurd, and born of sleep.





And still, beneath that dawning conviction, the image endured: the frozen head awaiting warmth, the spine standing ready, and my own hands preparing to press the impossible thing back into place.