Hateful Dreams of a Drug That Could Be

hate hate hate

I.

I had a strange dream and I told my wife about it in the morning. That night I dreamt that I was telling a group of people about that strange dream. I have taken this as a sign that I should tell you about that dream, so here we are.

There was a white powder, indistinguishable from cocaine, contained in a glass vial with a black cap. I’ve forgotten many of the details (or they were never dreamt in the first place), but there was some kind of global event in which all regular laws and activities were suspended so that every man, woman, and child could go on a planetary treasure hunt for a single dose of this drug, the only dose in existence. Throngs of people filled the streets; writhing, rapacious masses, mad with desire, frantically searching for the vial. It seemed to be understood that the drug could be located absolutely anywhere, in the most banal place or the most remote, in your grandmother’s jewelry box or the den of a Sumatran tigress.

As for the effect of the drug, I remember being puzzled by how ravenously everyone hungered for it, wondering what the high could possibly be like in order to elicit such behavior. I’m not sure whether this made known to me or I just dream-speculated it, but I got the sense that the drug was somehow much more than a drug, that taking it allowed one to commune directly with God or enter a portal to another dimension, something like that. There was, however, one thing that was made very clear about the drug: it was hate-activated—the “high” only manifested when the person who consumed the drug was themself consumed by the most intense hatred for something or someone.

II.

This was one of those dreams where it was very clear to me why I dreamt what I did. I recently started watching the show Mr. Robot (no spoilers don’t worry). The main character, Elliot Alderson, is a hacker who is addicted to morphine, a white powder which he purchases in small vials like the one I dreamt. He acquires the morphine from his dealer/neighbor/fuck-buddy Shayla who acquires it from her a gangster named Fernando Vera who has a sort of dark philosophical flair to him. Elliot comes over Shayla’s place one day to find Vera alone on the couch in his underwear. He “asks” Elliot to sit down and talk with him. Something Vera says during their chat (which is really just a monologue) struck a chord with me and seemingly inspired my dream; here is a video of the relevant part (or you can just read the quote below).

You remind me of me when I was younger, depressed and sullen. Matter of fact I tried to kill myself a couple of times. Never could get that shit right though—biology wasn’t my strong suit. I hate myself, man, still do. Thought that shit was a weakness for a long time….[hits crack pipe]…and then I realized that shit was my power. People walk around and act like they know what hate means, but no one does until you hate yourself. I mean truly hate yourself. That’s power.

Nay to self-care, nay to self-esteem, nay to self-love says this prophet of hate. Fear of failure, guilt, shame, insecurity—these are only relevant to those who retain some hope that they might be good or do good. Only when you know that you are the most loathsome creature, only then will you be free.

---

---