A while ago, I had a very peculiar dream.
I was myself, but also the Batman. It was night-time, maybe late evening, and I was hopping from tower to tower, gliding with my cape. At a certain point, I found myself on a rooftop together with the Joker (enacted by Heath Ledger), and, naturally, we started fighting. (I was very scared, because I'm not very phsyically strong, but I was able to handle it somehow.) Eventually a few policemen from the nearby police station came and took him. Anyway, I was very happy with being safe again, not thinking about having just defeated the Joker and had him arrested. I just left.
The next day, some woman in her 50s came to interrogate me, because I was seen fighting the Joker and they thought, for some peculiar reason, that I was the one who attacked him first (strangely, they recognised me, but not the Batman). It was a long interrogation, and I was dying to tell her that I was the Batman, so she'd understand why I attacked him. Just 'He attacked first' did not suffice. When I finally decided to tell her, she decided that the claim for self-defence was honest.
Later, having grasped the magnitude of having the Joker arrested, I was very happy and I wrote a post about the battle on this blog (which was the Batman's blog, not mine). In an instant, the post was recommended by the editors, and in no-time, there were over 200 replies to the post. So I went to my house's basement to read them on my mother's laptop (which is rather odd, because she's the only one allowed to touch it). Among the replies, I found one especially startling and unsettling, to the effect of, 'You idiot. The Joker can get out of prison and he's still after you.'
I was dead scared. I knew the replier, though writing like most repliers who have something personal agaisnt me (or are just plain stupid and miss my points altogether), was right. I stopped reading, put the laptop aside, and went to the closets around the basement (which were in the opposite corner to what they were IRL). I had my fists clenched, and I opened the closets one by one, expecting to find him there. He wasn't there. So I took the big plastic box in which we store old toys (in my dream it was half-metal), went to the little shetler we use mostly as a storage room for winter clothing, turned on the light, and there he was.
Before he could attack, I immediately banged the box on his head with all my strength. I went with him back to the basement, grabbed him by his legs, and started swinging him in the air, banging his head against the corner of the closet while talking to him.
'Y'know, some replier to my blog said you were still after me.' BANG!
'Oh really?' BANG!
'Uh-huh. He said you could come out of prison and come after me.' BANG!
'Is that so?' BANG!
'Uh-huh.' BANG!
I smashed his head a few more times, then let go of him to see how badly hurt he was. His forehead was open and bleading massively, as was his mouth. I shouldn't have done that: he quickly grabbed me from behind, putting his forearm under my bottom Jaw, lifting me in the air...
And then the dream ended.
I was still asleep, but I was able to think. I was glad it was over. I thought I was safe. But then I thought that now that the Joker knew who I am (Kot knows how), he'd be able to kill me in my sleep. I had a very vivid image of the Joker coming to me in my sleep, holding my mouth with his left hand and tearing my neck open with a dagger with his right hand.
I woke up with a terrified gasp, like you often see in films when a character wakes up from a nightmare. That was the first time it has ever happened to me. I started thinking about it, and thought I won't be able to sleep ever again without sufficient guarding. The vision of the Joker cutting my neck open flashed again in my mind and horrified me. After a bit more thinking, I remembered the Joker doesn't exist. But I was still bummed, because I'd woken up at 8:30 AM.
I told a few friends about my dream. Most of them said it was very strange, Alex (from the list; from now on I shall refer to her as Alex B.) was just amused ('LOL AWESUM DREAM =D'). Later on I talked to Alex on MSNM, and she was going to call me some weird, idiotic nickname. I protested firmly (she once wanted to call me 'Shraga', an archaic old masculine first name, because of the nickname 'Shunra', and was very annoying about it), and eventually I made some very violent threat (I saw all else failed), referring to how I slammed the Joker against the closet. She said, 'I was just joking... Why so serious?', and I laughed. (I'm not usually violent. It takes a lot of intentional annoying to make me this violent.)
When I told my mother about it, she said, 'Who's the Joker in your life? Don't answer me, think about it.' I dismissed it, not being able to find any particular person I was that scared of.
Today, as I was re-enacting the Joker's line 'Why so serious?' in front of the mirror (I often do it with characters like Alex DeLarge, Hamlet, or other characters I find myself very good at enacting); I might write a post about it some day), it finally hit me:
I am the Joker.
Unum diem...
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