Then she sort of butted into the discussion that several of us were vaguely carrying on. She sort of snickered at me. And I said something back maybe. Then she laughed or said something. All very vague, as no one was really saying much and music was playing and there was a party going on around us in the low light.

So I felt angered and I got up, and half smiling but angry, I calmly lifted up the front legs of her chair and tipped her over on her back and then pulled the chair from beneath her and sort of tipped it over on top of her gently.

She got up, smiling, though her hair was crumpled over and she was slightly flustered by what I had done. And she did something... she came up close to me and said something ... like, "Oh, wow, big deal."

Then her friend, who was smiling at us and at everyone else around us who were also sort of smiling embarrassedly, said something. Something like, "Have you ever done that before?" "Is that the first girl you've ever done that to?" Something like that. I can't remember. Just expressing, while smiling, something about what I had just done to her friend.

Then there is a blank spot in the dream like time rushed forward, and the next thing I knew I was alone in the apartment with the girl (not the stuck-up one I tipped over, her friend who had been smiling and seemed somewhat more amiable / down to earth).

It transpired out of nothing that she was an artist and that somehow I had already known this -- the knowledge that she was an artist was something that I already possessed and that seemed familiar to me in the alternate reality in which this dream was taking place. So, the apartment was empty. I think the sun was coming up outside and a few shafts of light were coming out from behind some heavy drapes.

And somehow she casually came up to me, with just a hint of disapprobation over what I had done to her friend, but still smiling and totally blase about the whole thing -- I mean, she was very inscrutable -- and, yeah, she came up to me and through some gesture indicated that she was going to quickly use me and the situation to create one of her art pieces.

So she walked up to me matter-of-factly, and still smiling and saying something mild and reassuring, penciled something around my lips with a sort of lipstick pencil. And yet as she did it, somehow what she was doing to my lips was immediately transposed as an image onto a giant canvas on the oak wall off to our side. And then she filled them in with the pencil.

The apartment was silent like a tomb. Everyone had gone. Where here had been this party with all of these people, now it was empty and quite eery. And she was smiling and had a manner halfway between putting you at ease and giving you a sense that she could keep that same smile and lightness even as she witnessed the greatest imaginable evil.

And then she disappeared for a moment and then came back into the area of the apartment I was in with some other sort of pencil and started drawing an outline on the canvas around the lips. She drew a line drawing of a head and a body. Something very simple but nicely done; she was skilled. She did this almost perfunctorily and this whole process was going on almost perfunctorily, in fact. She smiled. She was working with a sort of graceful, detached professionalism. It was as though this were just something she wanted to do quickly because it had struck her to do it before the moment passed.

She glided around the corner in the apartment again, very businesslike steps. As if to say, "almost done, just one last thing." Then she returned with a needle and what I realized was some sort of syringe. And in the dream, I didn't seem to have much of a problem with it. My mood was still confused from having been mocked and from losing my temper earlier. I was slightly annoyed but it was also sort of dawning on me that this girl thought I had acted foolishly and pathetically and that everyone else probably did as well.

So she walked up behind me and stuck the needle in my body somewhere. I can't remember where she drew from the first time. But it was only for a second and she drew some blood. And then she walked over to the canvas and injected the blood into the canvas somewhere... I can't remember this part well....

And then I think she disappeared again for a moment, and I looked over at the door and I suddenly remembered I had to leave soon and I saw my bags packed by the door. Maybe it was a hotel?

Then she came back in and I started to feel like maybe I shouldn't have been there. Maybe I didn't belong and maybe this girl was somehow tricking me or making a fool of me.

And she said something like, "one last touch." And she stuck the needle into my upper back into a place where there was no bodyfat and it really hurt. It must have been my spine because she started pumping the needle and really filling the syringe and it started to hurt this time. And I think I grimaced in pain.

Then she walked over to the canvas -- still smiling vaguely the whole time -- and she pulled out this tube and hung it across the canvas, across the image she'd created -- the line drawing with the lips and I think the blood had made the lips red, etc. And she hung this tube over the image on the canvas with a string and somehow it was attached, maybe she used a tack. And then she filled it with the spinal fluid she had drawn out of my back.

And I looked at it. And I suddenly wanted to ask her where she had gotten the needle she used on me to collect my blood and spinal fluid because I realized I had seen her collecting blood from a few other people earlier. But she was in the other part of the apartment again.

So I was feeling a bit peeved and my back was starting to hurt. So I started walking around the apartment to where she had gone, to find her. It was a very elegant bathroom in the back of the place I hadn't seen. And she was inside of it packing up her own bags and smiling and getting ready to leave as well. And I wandered into the bathroom and into a huge walk-in shower, as she packed, and I sort of said, with my back to her as I fidgeted with the shower control, just to have something to do, "Were those needles ... OK?"

But when I turned around she was gone. And I started to feel funny. Like I was drugged. And suddenly the door was closed to the bathroom. And I tried to open it but it wouldn't open and I started to feel panic welling up inside me.

Then it suddenly opened... but from the center. Meaning that the top part of the door pushed forward and the whole door swiveled like a seesaw so that I could slide over it, which I did.

The girl was gone. I was feeling stranger and stranger and I was alone in the apartment and I wanted to just get out of there. I walked over to the door where my things were and tried to put on my shoes and all I could think about was going downstairs to tell someone that this girl had done something to me and that I felt strange. I just didn't want to be alone in that apartment anymore.

But it felt like the rest of the building was suddenly empty. Like the whole world was empty.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=800938&forum_id=2#9650309)

You clearly have a repressed desire to have anal sex with your mother.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=800938&forum_id=2#9650456)

For your actions, you become the subject of an artist. The artist confuses/eludes/misuses you.

You exercised power in the first scenario.

Power was exercised on you in the second.

Your (not the smiling girl's) amiable/down to earth side had a moral superiority complex. It/you concocted a priestly dealer outer of chastisement. To debase one side of yourself you let another play lord over the one for awhile.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=800938&forum_id=2#9650638)

The smiling girl is obviously pissed at what you did to her friend. What happened to you was some sort of sadistic retribution.

The snickering girl comes close to you and says "Oh wow, big deal" in response to you flipping her chair; from the text it seems she says this mockingly. This may indicate what is to happen to you in the future--something much worse. The smiling girl asks if you had done something like this to a girl before, revealing that despite her politeness, she is certainly not pleased with what you did.

You want to fuck both of them. The smiling girl makes the move and you fall for it. Your sexual desire for them is probably irrelevant, except that it leads to your probable demise. The smiling girl controls you with her sexuality, and probably in hope of sex afterward, you endure her torture like a stoic. She keeps tensions normal with her smile, another guise.

She extracts your fluids and sprays them on a campus. I cannot be sure what the lips mean juxtaposed with the blood and spinal fluid, but I'll take a hunch and say this is all part of stealing or destroying your soul.

The apartment suddenly turns into a hotel. You see your bags packed by the door. Odd? You keep having uneasy feelings, a sense that you shouldn't be there and that you have to leave. This could mean a lot things, but I'll say that it means you want to die, and the smiling girl won't let you. She's stealing something from you (likely your soul) and you can't escape. When she completes her perfunctory painting (implying she has done this many times before), she packs and leaves you, leaving you empty, lost, and probably worse than dead.

Anyway, the moral of the story is: don't let girls do fucked up things to you in want of sex, or you'll lose your soul.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=800938&forum_id=2#9650655)

Thx.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=800938&forum_id=2#9650379)