Monday, February 2, 2009


I dreamed last night that I went to a big night-time outdoor fair-type event with my husband and another (female) friend. The friend was just your average dream person, no one I actually know. We had been walking around for a while and sat down in an area on the outskirts of the action where some small tables were set up with bar stools around them. My husband said he was going to go do something and would meet us back there. Right after he left, I started looking around and didn't like what I saw. We were surrounded by groups of men who were talking among themselves and staring at us menacingly. There was a sense that they didn't have our best interest in mind, and also that some kind of violence might shortly break out between them. Most of them seemed to be foreigners (from several different parts of the world), and I got the impression that they weren't there legally and that most of them made their living in illegitimate ways*.

The friend and I decided that we should leave immediately, but just as we were walking away I realized that in my hurry I had left my purse on the table. I ran back to get it, but was too late; a guy who worked for my husband [in the dream--I don't know how I knew he worked for him, but it was an established fact] had made off with it. He hadn't gotten far, so I started yelling and ran toward him, but he whipped out a pistol and started yelling back at me. I realized that it wasn't a good idea to get in a shouting match with an armed thief, so we got out of there.

We finally found my husband in a more crowded part of the fair. The guy might have been pursuing us, because he showed up just as I was trying to tell the story of what had happened. The thief brandished his pistol at the three of us, among a growing crowd, and suddenly my husband pulled a 12-gauge out of his jacket. [How does one conceal such a big gun in one's clothing, and why did he have it there?] He cocked it with that menacing CH-CHK sound, and the guy, seeing that his pistol didn't measure up to a Big Gun, ran away. I have no idea whether I got my purse back, though.

I much prefer clothing dreams to gun dreams.

*This part makes me feel like a closet racist. For the record, I think the vast majority of illegal residents make their living in perfectly legitimate, if underpaid ways.

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