It started as I was some other woman who was married with a baby. She was actually schizophrenic or something, as she was hearing voices that were telling her that her family was dead. So she started running out of the bedroom she was in, down the hallway, into the dining room, to the bathroom that was next to the back sliding door. As she was running I could hear a loud, echoing clock ticking at a slowed pace. She/me expected to find the husband and baby in the dining room in front of the bathroom door next to the buffet. But they were not there, only a closed bathroom door.
At this point she was gone and intense panic washed over me leaving a hard pit in the bottom of my stomach. I knew what was in the bathroom. I kept saying, “don’t let there be blood, don’t let there be blood” as I opened the door revealing the bathtub with the curtain drawn. The curtain was clear but heavily frosted, so you could see through it enough to see a slumped over shape. I just kept repeating, “don’t let there be blood” as I pulled back the curtain. Tom was there in the tub dead (with no blood). I pulled him out and started lightly smacking him in the face trying to get a response. Suddenly, he gasped for air, and I could even smell his breath.
The dream had a strange lucidity and clearness to it. I didn’t know I was dreaming but I knew this had all happened before. The house made sense. It wasn’t a labyrinth like most houses and places in my dreams. The edges of my vision weren’t fuzzy at all, everything was incredibly clear and detailed. And while I am usually outside of my body watching myself in my dreams, in this one I was in my body. I honestly don’t recall ever having dreamt about his suicide attempt before, I don’t know why I would dream this now almost 7 years later.