weird combination

In all this time I haven't posted, of course I've had a lot of dreams. Last night's were particularly impressive, though. First, I had a terrible dream about my husband getting shot in the head. We were somewhere with a group of very young people (I don't know if we were as young in the dream, or just out of place). We were hanging around in a semi-derelict house, and one of the guys had a gun. He started messing around with it, shooting out the door at something outside. In theory it wasn't supposed to be dangerous because he was just shooting at a target, but somehow he accidentally shot my husband in the back of the head.

I don't need to go on about how awful that was, because it's self-evident. He was still alive, though, so the awfulness just escalated. The kids freaked out and didn't want to take responsibility (didn't even want to call 911). Of course I immediately started to try to stanch the blood (of which there was surprisingly little) and call 911. I failed at first at calling because I kept getting distracted with my first-aid attempts. Then, every time I tried to dial I couldn't get it right. I accidentally entered the wrong sequence of numbers, an extra number appeared at the end, I accidentally erased all the numbers, I pushed the wrong button, I accidentally hung up on the dispatcher, etc. etc. I couldn't find my own phone, which had fallen down somewhere, and kept trying on a variety of phones that were lying around, none of which I could figure out how to use (usually it was the crucial "call" button that I couldn't locate). Finally I decided to look for help on foot, while simultaneously trying to prevent the kids from burying my still-alive husband to hide the evidence of their accident. I eventually ran into some people outside who seemed helpful and competent. I think at that point I must have woken up and realized that he hadn't actually been shot, because I don't remember how it ended.

The other part was considerably less harrowing. I was composing poetry, which is something that I think I've dreamed occasionally before*. Usually when that happens I can't remember any of it in the morning, but this time I remembered part of it. It was a medium-sized poem, so at least half of it is probably gone for good. The missing part was along the same lines. I think it was inspired in part by some recent thinking about my personality and priorities and how to deal with people with conflicting personalities and priorities; and in part by a book I've been reading about slowness. Anyway, this is all I remember:

Manifesto

We reserve the right to dawdle, to hem and haw, to hedge.

We write poetry in our dreams, and knowing that it was graven once in the gray folds of our unconscious is enough.

We are not waiting for happiness.

We know it when we see it.

I found the dream really interesting and amusing, because I remember the thought process I went through choosing the wording there, including a debate about whether the word "graven" was too stilted (I'm still very much on the fence about that). I think the lines that came more easily were the ones I forgot.

*In real life, I haven't dabbled in poetry since late adolescence, when I think one is contractually obligated to do so.

unsettlingly realistic

All I can remember of last night's dream is an unpleasant episode at work that was disturbingly realistic. I've probably mentioned before that in real life I have a coworker who, while meaning well, comes off as pushy. In the dream I was trying to do some task that was going to require a document that was probably somewhere in one of two wire inboxes on my desk. Just as I was poised to start looking through them to find the document, this coworker (who was not specifically involved in this part of the task) came up to my desk and started flipping through the inbox contents to find the document first. With no warning (even to myself), I exploded. I picked up the tray, brandished it while yelling at her to back off and get her hands off my stuff, then flung down the tray hard on the desk. For good measure, I heaved the other tray onto the floor beside my desk (it should be noted that none of this physical outburst involved people, just the two inboxes).

She seemed taken aback (and rightly so, I'm sure), and I was immediately embarrassed at my loss of control. Although I was still annoyed with her, I realized that I had just come off looking bad, since she had been well-meaning in her interference. To make things worse, she started talking about how she was "just trying to help", and how another coworker and I were "always whispering together and gossiping". I tried to tell her that 1) I couldn't help it if this other coworker came up and started a conversation with me at my desk; and 2) we weren't "gossiping", just talking about random things of no import.

Ugh. Very unpleasant. I can't deny that I have some pent-up real-life annoyance about similar issues, but I certainly hope the outbursts stay confined to my dream life.

recent snippets

Some real-life stress/busyness has kept me from posting a lot of strange dreams lately, which is a little frustrating (they've mostly gone down the memory hole), so I thought I'd post a few random recent snippets that I do remember.

• I was dating Bob Dylan. I had put him on a "health plan", for which he was touchingly grateful. He didn't say it outright (being Bob Dylan, his phraseology was great, though), but it was clear that he was happy about the improvements I was making in his life.

• This one is hardly worth recording, it's so hazy, but it's a departure from my usual tropes. It involved very old people committing (or rather, admitting to having committed recently) heinously violent crimes. They indicated that they had gone off the rails after experiencing Nazi concentration camps. This was undoubtedly influenced by a spousal tv viewing of parts of a violent horror movie involving old people, so that explains the departure from the usual group trip/mafia pattern.
  

• This one involved a coworker with which I have a little bit of interpersonal difficulty due to personality differences. In real life, she's a take-charge overachiever whereas I'm the exact opposite (I hate anything that smacks of taking charge or, conversely, being taken charge of). Our company had either been restructured or had acquired some very important new clients with whom we would be working very closely. Whichever the case, the new people showed up at our office, three or four older/middle-aged business types (I think they were all men). The coworker immediately turned on the charm full force, and her brand of charm had the desired effect on the new people, provoking grumbling and annoyance on the part of the other office denizens.

• This is not my dream, but I made an appearance. Another coworker told me she dreamed that she and her husband, along with my husband and me, were on the run, being chased by unspecified bad guys. At one point I stopped, got out a slab of rock, and started preparing to do Korean-style "hot rock" cooking, saying that I was starving. She was startled but very accommodatingly told me that it was okay, she had to go into an adjacent business to use the bathroom anyway, so I had time to cook.
  

weird miscellany and zombie shooters

I had the weirdest and wildest dreams last night, but I won't be able to do them justice, partly because my memory is a little hazy. Of course there was a group trip, a rather epic one involving travel on a giant bus with my mother and various random people from my past. I tried to find a seat, but each option presented problems. There was a very back row facing backward, which I thought would be okay although I don't like facing backward in a vehicle. But when I tried to sit down I discovered why the seats were empty: it really only worked if you hunched over or lay down across several seats, because of the combination of window and ceiling heights. Then my mother pointed out that there was a row of seats running up and down the left/driver's side, facing out sideways. I didn't like that option either because I thought it was dangerous. I was worried about the lack of seatbelts and what would happen in the event of a side collision*.

I finally sat down (in a rear-facing seat, but in the middle of the bus) next to a guy with a baby. The guy looked vaguely like Sean Bean, and I didn't really interact with him because I was distracted by the baby, who was dangling in front of me without any apparent support (although this didn't seem odd). Acting on reflex, I took the baby and set him on my lap, at which point I realized that he was actually a small freckled boy, maybe 6 or so**. I started talking to him rather animatedly, which surprised me since I'm not normally one of those people who makes over small children (not that I have anything against them, I'm just not the one who runs over and starts talking baby talk to them).

I'm not sure if this was the trip destination, but the next thing I remember I was at a house on a very steep wooded hillside. This was surely inspired by watching several historical British dramas recently featuring those long-term (by modern standards) visits in which a group of random highbrow people would descend on a manor house. There were a lot of people around, a few of whom I knew but most of whom I didn't, and I was trying to navigate the bathroom-use system because I wanted to take a shower.

I had laid claim to a bathroom (one of a pair in an odd layout: they were on a stair landing near the entrance, and had white louvered Western Saloon type doors) and was just about ready to take a shower. I don't remember all the details, but the owner of the house (who I think was the Sean Bean lookalike from the bus) arrived and made it clear that his routine was to use this bathroom at this exact time for his ablutions. So I apologized, gathered up my stuff, and went to wait outside.

I don't know if I ever got my shower, because the next thing I can remember was being outside. I realized that something odd was going on, but it took me a while to grasp the basics (I never did understand the details). In a nutshell, there was a shootout between some people, at least one of whom was a doppelganger of the host. This doppelganger had been activated by some action or event, but was apparently a chronic presence who appeared every so often--locked in semi-permanent conflict with the host.

The most fantastical moment involved a zombie-like young man propped up against the exterior wall. He had appeared to be dead, actually nailed to the wall by a gunshot. It became clear, though, that this was just a disguise to hide in plain sight--as the doppelganger (or maybe the host, I couldn't straighten out their identities) rounded the corner, the young man practically exploded from his position flat against the wall, shooting the doppelganger/host. I finally realized that this was a dangerous situation, and I started running/rolling down the hill. I'm not sure how I managed to avoid all the huge conifers, but the pine needles made a forgiving surface on which to roll, and when I had gotten to the bottom of the rather deep ravine I looked around and appreciated how beautiful it was, even though I didn't know how I was going to get out of there.

At some point a couple from my parents' church made a cameo appearance. In real life, this man has very straight, wiry hair that grows straight out from his head in all directions, and he favors a buzz cut of varying length. In the dream, he had curled his hair in a foppish late-18th-century/early 19th-century style***, and had caused some kind of unnamed scandal of medium-level seriousness. In real life, his wife has a rather old-fashioned haircut styled in a way that might be described as marcelled. In the dream, my sister informed me that he shared her husband's hair woes and that was why she always wore it quite short and curled in a standard "old lady" helmet style.



*I don't want to delve too deeply into this recent dream concern for vehicular safety.
**Nor am I going to meditate on the recurring theme of small boys.
***Thank you again, British historical dramas.

in which I dabble in the Albanian underworld

Well. After yesterday's extremely mundane dream, last night I had a pretty wild one. Following a bit of conversation about the Balkans yesterday, I dreamed that I was in Albania. Not only was I in Albania, but I was--wait for it--dealing drugs.

I'm not sure how I came to be in Albania, but I had our (real-life) old Jaguar with me (this will come up again later). Despite having transportation, though, I was stuck because I didn't have enough money to leave the country. So, logically, I turned to dealing drugs to make a quick buck (or lek, as the case may be).

I don't know how I made the acquaintance of the local underworld figures, but I had ended up as sort of a freelancer, only dealing with them in an off-hand way. I think I was obligated to turn over some kind of "tax" to ensure that they wouldn't meddle in my affairs. I also got my drugs from them. Of course they fit the exact mental image you'd have of a small-time Albanian Bad Guy: greasy hair, gold necklaces, track suits, unfortunate choice of headwear.

At one point I was in the lair of my drug provider to get re-supplied. There were several young women/girls in various states of intoxication and undress--it was obvious that they were working in a state of semi slavery, serving both as prostitutes, sex slaves, and drug customers. One of the gangsters was beating one of them up*, and I was trying to think of a way to get these girls out of the situation, while realizing that most of them were too addicted to participate in any way in their extrication.

During this same visit, while the guy I was dealing with was otherwise occupied, I started idly examining some of the wares on the table. I wasn't sure what it all was, not having any experience in that area myself. There was a pink package with some pink plastic objects resembling short pens (the labeling and packaging style was very Feminine Hygiene Product**). They had a little hole near one end, which I deduced was supposed to be sucked on or inhaled to get a hit. I tried it once, and got enough of an indefinable sensation to remind myself that rule number one was always that a successful dealer didn't consume the goods.

One of the most noticeable things about the dream was the feeling of being in a dangerous situation but of being tough and "bad-ass" enough to not be worried about the gangsters trying to mess with me (where this came from, I don't know, since I'm not exactly a toughie in real life). The scariest moments were two encounters, while in or near my car, with a group of young knife-wielding Roma boys intent on carjacking my car (I put that down to a stereotype about them favoring Mercedes and Jaguars). They were significantly scarier than the grown-up gangsters, but I managed to evade them both times.

In the end, the dream wound down in a fairly tiresome way. I had met up with some random young-ish American(-ish?) dream acquaintances, and we were all hanging around waiting for something undefined. I think we were waiting to be able to leave the country, although I don't know what specific event was going to allow us to leave. I finally got tired of them and their uninteresting and stupid conversation and went off by myself.

So there's another one to add to my collection of dreams dealing with unsavory themes. In my defense, I don't actually remember selling any drugs to anyone, and I remember having a philosophy of not introducing new users to drugs.


*In an interesting twist, I'm positive that this brutalization was inspired by that recent video of the guy stomping on the moveon.org protester's head. He used the exact same foot action.
**I was surprised to note a manufacturer's name and address in China; I hadn't thought that a manufacturer of illegal drugs (in my mind, this was some new exotic form of crack) would label their products as if they were, say, something you'd buy at Wal-Mart.

some non-gory but brutal violence, and an excessive amount of detail

I'm completely overwhelmed by all the dreams I've had lately. For one thing, I feel like I've only remembered a tiny percentage of fragments; for another, they've been insanely and excessively detailed (noticeably more than usual, which is saying a lot). I guess I'll just start with some snippets in no particular order and see how far I get.

++++++++++++++++++++

This morning before work (in real life) I logged in to Yahoo IM in hopes of talking to a friend in a faraway time zone who's been wanting to chat for a while. Then I realized that I was falling asleep, so I turned the volume way up on the computer in hopes of waking up with the little window-opening noise if he tried to chat with me. That's the real-life background.

In the dream, I was sleeping in my house (except that of course it was slightly different, both in the house's characteristics and the location, which was more wooded). In the dream I also had the computer on while I slept (for the same reason), so I was sleeping a bit fitfully. [I find it weird when dreams parallel real life so closely, especially when I dream that I'm asleep.] I ended up waking up to find that my husband had been there, which surprised me since he had already gone to work and is usually way too busy to come back home. He was trying to sleep in a gigantic king-size bed in a different bedroom (our house had morphed again), and said that he had come home the previous morning too.

That was the boring part. I got into bed intending to sleep some more, and woke up to hear strange sounds outside. We got up and looked out the window, and finally figured out that it was a disgruntled former coworker of my husband, shooting randomly with a shotgun (it must have been a pretty wimpy shotgun, because the sounds weren't very loud). We weren't sure what to do, but before we had decided on a course of action I heard noises in the house. He had somehow gotten inside and was waving his gun around, ranting and raving. I went out into the living room, and he shot wildly and missed the side of my head. Obviously something had to be done, so I picked up a greenish marble cutting board (not something we own) and gave him several solid blows to the head. He slumped over a countertop and I hit him several more times, very much in the way you'd crush a cockroach to be sure it was dead (there was no gore, at least). Then I produced a small pistol out of the blue (we don't have a pistol either) and shot him in the temple to be really sure--no gore there, either. The pistol was just as wimpy as his shotgun--no kick, and not much noise. It occurred to me to wonder why I hadn't found a bigger gun, but this one seemed to have done the job.

Of course after that I was stressed about what to do, not to mention extremely disturbed at having just killed someone (in self-defense, but still, the repeated head-bashing was a little much). Fortunately my alarm went off then.

++++++++++++++++++

Another recent dream involved living in a dorm modeled loosely after my high-school dorm (where, thankfully, I didn't actually have to live). The rooms were very small and the hallways were narrow, and it was set up so that people in the hallway could peek through large cracks in western-saloon type doors and see what was going on in the bathrooms. There wasn't much of a plot, just an overwhelming amount of stuff all over--my stuff, other people's stuff, just all kinds of objects crammed into every available space. At one point I took a bath in some random stranger's bathtub, and the bathroom was chock full of all kinds of toiletries and shampoo. After that I visited my sister in her room and spent some time going through her selection of jewelry, which was a lot of ethnic and vintage stuff. I remember a necklace of jet beads carved into the shape of rosebuds, almost like a rosary, and a curious thing from Czechoslovakia: an egg-shaped container of very thin wood with decorative painting. I opened it up to find that it was full of tiny pins out of the same very thin wood, in lots of different shapes (people, geometric shapes, etc.), meant to be combined in different configurations. I was extremely impressed with her collection.

The dorm then changed a little bit, and I was in an upstairs room helping Curly Sue (who actually had to live in the aforementioned high-school dorm!) move to a different facility. It turned out that she had been incarcerated for some not-too-serious offense and was graduating to a lower-security facility. It can't have been anything too serious, because her mother was there helping with the move, and she didn't seem too disturbed about her daughter's crime/incarceration. Also, in conversation with them I remembered that my dad had recently had a similar stint behind bars.

The funny random detail here is that she was wearing several hats (literally, not figuratively). She had layered two or three knit caps of various textures on her head, and she changed these at least once during the dream. The consistent thing was that the hat on top was always just balanced rakishly on top of the others, not pulled down over her head. I found it curious and didn't completely comprehend the reason she offhandedly gave for her distinctive headgear styling, but I let it drop.

++++++++++++++++++

That's just a couple; maybe I'll give it another try later. Stay tuned for not just one but TWO dust-ups in thrift stores; an anthropological exploration of either Afghanistan or Macedonia, depending on which part of the dream you believe; and an outpouring of emotion for an adoptive father (??).

crocodiles and mobsters cont.

(cont.)

Part 3:

I was now out somewhere with a group of people, including the friend and some random dream characters of a wide range of ages and ethnicities. We were in a big concrete building on an upper floor--it was a very bare, industrial sort of building, all metal and concrete and very Soviet Eastern Europe. We must have been on a guided tour, because we had all entered a rather dodgy-looking restroom (this was part of the tour, not a bathroom break). About that time, I realized that we were being guided in there by Russian mobsters. They did the requisite yelling ("get down! Shut up!" etc.), and I dove into the first available stall. Unfortunately it turned out to not have a door, so my hopes of crouching on the toilet to avoid detection were dashed.

The mobsters singled me out for some reason and yelled something at me. I'm not really clear on what happened next because it was very quick, but I realized that a grenade had been unpinned and it would behoove me to get out of there. I had a very weird sensation of simultaneous extreme fear and complete fearlessness, and for once my dream running was very effective (probably faster and with more coordination than in real life). I ran right past them and out the door to try to get out of range of the grenade.

I dashed out into a hallway and out the door, which led me to a long concrete exterior staircase with no railing (this was probably at about a 5th-floor level). At this point I realized that the bathroom mobsters had let me go knowing that they had companions outside the building who could take me out. I got to the bottom of the stairs and started running across an open space of packed dirt (there were buildings all around similar to the one I'd come out of, all deserted). I knew that there were mobsters around, but I also realized that I had to keep running even though the open space left me vulnerable to being picked off.

At about this point, I think I was caught by one of them, but this is where things got weird. Because when I realized that I was being caught, I also realized that this was a movie dream, and my perspective shifted to outside myself. When it shifted, I saw that I wasn't really me, but a much smaller teenager with long dark hair and bangs. This smaller "me" started belting out a song and I realized, "great, I've gotten myself trapped in a musical". [I'm not a real-life fan of musicals; I find it disconcerting how they burst into song at random times.] I tried to put the movie/dream on fast forward so I wouldn't have to listen to the songs and could get to the end faster, and it worked.

in which i tire myself out both physically and mentally

I had a slightly alarming dream last night. I was getting ready to go buy a bunch of necessary materials and tools for a home improvement project, going over the list with my husband because I was going to be going by myself and wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything. I was a little nervous about driving the truck, since I had only driven it a couple of times before.

I guess I got the materials, because the next thing I can remember I was with some assorted family members in a very small cafe attached to the building supply store. It was sort of like an uglier version of an ikea cafe, and my dad had ordered a pizza. One of the employees brought it out, and it looked really good--kind of a white sauce, with chicken and maybe rosemary*.

The trouble began when someone jumped out of nowhere to intercept my dad's pizza. The person who initially grabbed the pizza was a 35-ish, redneck-ish man. I was furious, and immediately started slugging him (?!), knocked him on the ground, and kicked him (I was pretty effective, if I do say so myself). I was a little surprised and alarmed at the intensity of my anger; I guess I was getting out all my suppressed indignation about everything. I kept yelling "you can't do that! You can't take my dad's pizza! You didn't pay for it!" Between the kicking and the hitting, he ended up moaning on the floor, with blood running down his forehead.

I guess at that point I came to my senses and decided I had done sufficient justice, because I stopped and the person got up, morphing into a youngish female. I asked her why she had taken my dad's pizza and she said, rather pitifully, "I'm hungry". I immediately turned good samaritan and said, "well, let me get you something to eat". There was an immediate switch from "I'm so mad I could kill someone" to "this person needs to eat and I'm going to get them something" (with accompanied rush of charitable feeling).

She ordered something and I went to pay at the counter. I noticed that she had slipped in a package of condoms**, and was initially irritated that she had added something when I had only proposed a meal. Then I realized that she seemed to be the sort of person who had a lot of high-risk encounters, and probably did all kinds of drugs, and that it was a good thing she was getting them, so I didn't protest and just paid for the whole thing, acting like they weren't there. I had very uncomfortable mixed feelings of feeling good about being helpful, while simultaneously realizing that I was experiencing unwarranted feelings of moral superiority and a particularly annoying sort of Liberal Do-Goodism***.



*ironic, considering that my dad is vegan.
**once again, why does it have to be me introducing these labels?
***not that I'm against being liberal or doing good; I'm referring to that annoying "I'm doing this and this and this and this to save the world--what are you doing?" thing.

creepy and out of character

I haven't been remembering a lot of my dreams lately, but I had a very unsettling one the other night. I was sitting around with my mom and grandma, and my mother had some old photos out. She started getting very agitated and talking about how my grandmother had tried to drown her when she was little. She had some photos of herself as a toddler and some other kids, playing in an irrigation canal*. At first glance they looked like cute old pictures of little kids having fun, but then she pointed to one that showed her lying face down in the water.

I had thought that she was just being ravingly paranoid, but the photo was pretty creepy. Even creepier was my grandma's reaction. She just sat there looking cold and scheming while my mom freaked out. [At this point I should interject that in real life my grandma is the nicest person in the world. She is almost 90, though, and in real life she has quite a bit of memory loss--but still an extremely nice, pleasant person. I've a few of these very disturbing dreams, though, where her real-life memory loss morphs into something weird and scary and she becomes a rather creepy figure. Which of course is disturbing in itself during the dream; and the fact that I'm even dreaming it is disturbing and a bit guilt-inducing.]


*I think she's mentioned playing in irrigation canals in her real-life childhood, but definitely no mention of near-drowning incidents.

Movie Roles

The other night I dreamed that I was in another Mel Gibson action movie (the odd part of that sentence is the last five words).

When I'm in the movie, I'm both a part of the plot and aware that it's a movie. This was a kind of home invasion movie in which Mel and I had to sneak into the house of the bad people. I was carrying a seriously big and bad-ass machine gun. It was huge and heavy, and I was worried about being able to use it while moving.

Mel and I started outside, where we loaded up our guns and split up. I entered the house through a bedroom on the first floor. I think this one had a woman in it, about my age, and I shot her with the gun. The bullets from the gun seemed to move in slow motion, even though I was trying to move very fast. I don't remember this scene very well, but I remember that the shooting didn't work, or my gun ran out of bullets, because I ended up having to smash her head over and over with a chair or something.

I proceeded on through the house, wondering what Mel was up to. Of course I was surprised by a young guy with a gun. He started shooting at me, and I could see the bullets moving in slow motion toward me. I couldn't feel anything hitting me, but I wondered if I was injured. I was shooting back at him, and I noticed again how heavy the gun was. I was kind of diving behind furniture and trying to keep shooting at him at the same time.

This guy wouldn' die, though. At one point, he was down and I walked over to him and shot directly down into his head and body and, thinking he was dead, I started to walk away. I looked back over my shoulder and saw him propping up on one elbow, trying to shoot me in the back. I had to run back and shoot him some more. I may have used a chair on him too.

I left the bedroom and started to creep quietly up a metal spiral staircase (just like the one at the back door of my apartment). I wasn't sure where this would lead, but I realized that since it was a movie, Mel was probably taking care of things in the other part of the house. I also thought about whether I was injured, but realized since I was in a movie, the injuries wouldn't last too long even if I was in fact injured.

Staying Cool

I had a horrible dream last night involving stabbing someone. This was not the first stabbing dream I've had, but I certainly hope it's the last.

The first part of the dream was pretty inoffensive. I was supposed to be going to something referred to as a "charity gala" (yes, really) for some organization my husband was involved with. Once again, I was trying to figure out what to wear. A coworker's husband called and just kept on talking and talking and I was getting frustrated because I couldn't figure out how to get him off the phone so I could get on with my charity gala preparations.

Then I was at resort/hotel with my husband. I think we were there for a convention of some sort (not a charity gala!). The atmosphere was kind of 1960s, which came in handy later. The hotel was on a hillside with a pool overlooking a valley. At some point we were in a sort of auditorium with very steep steps up to the exit. The auditorium was fairly empty, and I think we were among the last to leave. We suddenly found ourselves facing several young guys dressed rather snazzily, who wouldn't let us pass--not overtly threatening at first, then becoming more so.

I realized that we were in some kind of life-threatening situation and it was a matter of us or them. I'm not sure if I grasped the plot against us, but there clearly was one, and these young men were clearly its executors. One of them pulled out a knife, and I either grabbed it from him or somehow produced one of my one. *****Warning: rather graphic stabbing content***** Before I could really think about it, I plunged mine into his abdomen, and here's the worst part: I remembered that in such a situation one was to twist the knife for maximum effectiveness, so I did. It was horrible! Just the same sensation as in the other stabbing dream.

As expected, the young man crumpled to the floor, and his companions ran off, although I figured they were just going for reinforcements. My husband had also had a knife in his hand, one of those utility knives (dark red with stainless steel), and he let it drop to the floor (I don't think he had done any stabbing; maybe some light slashing, but nothing fatal). I thought it was very unwise of him to just leave the incriminating weapon like that, but didn't say anything about it. Instead I carefully wiped off my knife (a burnt-orange Swiss Army knife) on the dead guy's shirt and stashed it away in my bag.

We high-tailed it out of the auditorium and into the adjacent parking garage. We knew we couldn't take our own car and would have to steal one for our getaway. My husband said, "so which car should we take?", to which I replied, "our yellow one, of course". He nodded sagely with an admiring look at my presence of mind.

About then we realized that an even better course of action would be to fly somewhere from the airport (the airport was attached to the resort complex). Our first impulse was to fly back home. We were already at the parting gate, talking to the girl at the counter [this is where the 1960s-era vibe came in handy; there was no security to speak of--also, everyone had 1960s hair and clothes]. Of course I realized that flying back home was the stupidest course of action possible and managed to calmly intercept my husband just as he was opening his mouth to buy tickets and somehow indicate to him that we needed to go somewhere else without exciting the suspicion of the ticket-counter girl. He immediately saw my point and congratulated me for being so smart (!), and proposed that we go to Detroit instead.

So I think I woke up just as I was thinking that Detroit was a pretty smart choice, being somewhat of a modern-day Wild West. Also I thought that with the depressed economy it might be easier to start from scratch there if we ended up having to stay. And then as I was further waking up but not fully awake I moved on to strategies for changing one's appearance fast and convincingly and Staying Cool [I had resisted, in the dream, telling my husband to Stay Cool because I rejected the phrase as too hackneyed, no matter how appropriate to the situation].

miscellaneous husband dreams

I dreamed I was on some kind of group outing, and the female part of the group was supposed to all be getting haircuts. I was waiting around for mine when my phone rang. It was my husband, and he sounded extremely stressed and not like himself. After some digging to find out what was wrong, he said that he had gotten into an altercation with someone at work and ended up punching the guy. I was somewhat relieved, because he sounded so upset I was afraid it would be something much worse.

He was freaking out about losing his job and maybe even going to jail over this [apparently somewhat-merited] punch, but I was pretty calm about it. I tried to remind him that he had a very good record at work, that there had been witnesses to the situation, and that probably they would just discipline him somehow instead of firing him. I figured that we were going to have to hire a lawyer, though, and that we were probably in for a couple of years of expense and complications before the whole thing got ironed out.

Also on the subject of husband-related dreams, I dreamed the other night that he offered our larger, unrulier dog to my sister (who is not in the market for such a high-maintenance beast). She was interested, but then he started to have second thoughts and specified that he only wanted her to take the dog for a couple of years--until he [the dog] calmed down and got older and easier to deal with, basically. I told him that he couldn't just try to pawn his dog off on someone for his unruly years and want him back when he was better-behaved.

guns?

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.

Blood on the Street

I don't know if Strovska's recent dreams influenced mine, or if it was the five (!) squad cards my neighbor and I passed as we drove home from school yesterday, but either way my dreams also appear to be extremely suggestible.

I was on my lunch break from some training session, and I decided to go to the bookstore or library on my time off. As I approached an intersection that I now realize was probably a version of the one where my favorite coffee shop is located, the GPS device I was holding, and which was apparently giving me directions, narrated, in an increasingly wavering and eerily prophetic voice, that there was "blood on the street at [street name] and [street name]." It was rather disturbing, especially as it referenced a location close to me.

As I was waiting on the street corner, about to cross to my destination, an emergency vehicle with a bright white light flashing above its windshield came sailing through the intersection, I think with a siren going. As it passed, I saw there was a decal on its back window that looked like one of those "crossing" signs, except the animal in it was what at the time I think I identified as a marmoset. I now think it may have been a marmot.* Anyway, I figured it was the logo of the emergency rescue operation.

I entered the bookstore/library and started browsing the shelves. I noticed that most of the books had very worn spines. Then someone pointed out that someone (one of the professors/trainers from where I had just been) had set aside a book for me--there was a label with my name on it taped to the spine. Apparently it was a gift certificate, specifically so that I could get this book. It was on Vuillard, an artist I don't really know at all but in the dream seemed to like well enough. I took it up to the counter, and they rang it up for me. I had $1.60 left on the gift certificate.

Just before, I had remembered or been reminded (sirens?) of the violence ("blood on the street"), and had looked out the side window. In the alley, I could see a car and a person sort of bent over on the street, with his back sort of torn open and bloody. I told myself that I didn't really want that image in my head, so I looked away quickly.

As I looked out the huge picture windows at the front of the store, I could see that there had been a massive car accident. Five or six cars were strewn along the street, variously crumpled. There were big oily-looking patches of some fluid, from cars or bodies. Emergency personnel appeared to be draping sheets over bodies on the street. I could see that the building just down the block from the one I was in had been damaged, with its front window shattered.

Overall, one of the more disturbing dreams I've had in a while.

*The weird thing is that when I googled marmoset just now to find out what one is, a picture showed up that someone printed out and stuck on our office wall (the one with the two babies clinging to the fingers). I didn't know those were marmosets. I have seen marmots in person.

family gatherings, etc.

I had a weird dream over the weekend in which I was at a large family type gathering (not my family--what's with me being at all these not-my-family family gatherings lately?). I was wandering around and noticed a crayfish-like insect dressed in overalls writhing around on the ground. It looked like it was suffering, so I thought I should put it out of its misery, though my motives were mixed somewhat; I was also repulsed by it. I was beating it with some kind of implement I can't remember now, when it morphed into a healthy cornfed country boy in overalls. By this time it was too late and I had to finish the job because the insect/young man was pretty far gone (this part was vague, not too graphic). Then, wanting to leave the scene, I went over to a walled-in porch and sat down at a table. There were two teenage girls arranging and rearranging and commenting on various slices of cakes and pies that they had made (none of them on dishes, just on the tablecloth, and amazingly durable what with all the handling). They were excited because the wholesome young hero was going to be coming by and they hoped to impress him with their desserts. At this point I realized that I had just pummeled the wholesome young hero to death and felt intensely uncomfortable.

As a prelude to this dream, there was another episode involving my having acquired several pets (a mixture of cats, rabbits, turtles, and possibly a bird). I had taken several of them to work with me and had lost track of them. A whole day had gone by and I was getting really worried because it was time to feed them, and not only did I not have a food/water setup ready for them, but I wasn't even sure where they were. I haven't had a neglected-pet dream for a long time, but I used to have a lot of these. I'm sure it indicates an unhealthy level of guilt and anxiety.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Then night before last I had a couple of other unsettling dreams. The first involved a lot of people from my high school class reassembling, as if we were still in high school. The setting was more summer-camp than high school. It was at an abandoned building way out in the country, next to a creek. The really unsettling part was that there was an elaborate system for disguising the building when we weren't there, including a very convincing huge fake live-oak tree. I knew that something was amiss if so much effort had to put into hiding the location.

The other dream was another movie dream. This was one of those movies that probably started out as a play because the setting was so simple and it focused on the interactions of a very small group of people. It was vaguely 1950s and involved a desperate, depressed woman in an abusive marriage. She dug a hole in her yard in which to conceal her two children, then was trying to figure out how to leave her husband. A couple she was friends with showed up, and then immediately the husband also arrived, somewhat drunk and quite belligerent. The friends were trying to mediate and keep the husband from getting too violent. The whole atmosphere was very dark and depressing, although I was impressed with the costuming/sets/makeup. I woke up--somewhat unsettled--before I could learn what the outcome was.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And finally, last night I dreamed that I was at another family gathering, this time with people I was actually related to. It was mostly my dad's side of the family, and it was supposed to be an Easter communion service. I wasn't sure how that was supposed to work out, since there are several different religious persuasions involved. Interestingly, everyone seemed to be wearing cowboy boots--after seeing some really nice ones on a cousin, I looked at my own feet and discovered that I too had on cowboy boots.

After a lot of milling around, we finally made our way into a sort of private room in a hotel/restaurant where this service was supposed to take place. Just as everyone was getting settled, though, a large curtain on one side of the room was swept aside and the whole space (now triple the size) was invaded by a film crew who insisted that they had the whole place. I was excessively angry and accosted a passing waitress type who said she was the manager. I started yelling, really in high dudgeon, about how my family had reserved this space before the film crew.

I feel like I deserve some nice, funny, carefree dreams now.

more violence and bangles

I had another violent and disturbing dream last night, although this was just a snippet. I was somewhere with my husband, some store or something that had a cat hanging around. It was a huge (three feet long) light-colored fluffy cat, but the first I saw of it was just after it had apparently scratched my husband. He got really mad because it had scratched him and pinned it against the wall while kicking its throat. It was horrible--I think it was even in slow motion. Fortunately right after that my dream switched to something completely harmless; I was staring at my left arm and wondering why I had four identical very large robin's-egg-blue plastic bangles. They even had little dark flecks like birds' eggs.

vegetable knives and marine mushrooms

Well, apparently I've taken a really long sabbatical from dreaming. Aside from a couple of celebrity dreams (I'm saving them for later), I've only remembered snippets since Christmas. Last night I had a melodramatic and alarming dream*.

I was walking through a wooded park in an unspecified foreign country (Latin America?). There was a young guy walking toward me who suddenly pulled out one of those cheapo plastic vegetable-cutting knives and threatened me with it. He elucidated some reason for why he was threatening me but I can't remember what it was, only that it was a non-sequitur. He didn't seem all that serious about it, but I was alarmed and grabbed the knife from him, and stuck it into his chest a couple of inches. He didn't seem to be in pain, pointing out that it would be pretty hard to kill someone with that type of knife, and that in any case it wasn't positioned right. I realized that he had something there, and although I was horrified by what I was doing, I felt like it was too late and there was no turning back, so I pushed it in the rest of the way (he had magically produced a second similar knife and was now brandishing it at me, although not very convincingly). When I stuck the knife in all the way, it became obvious that he was really injured. At this point I realized that I had fallen madly in love with him and was desperate to get him medical attention. I started dragging him in the direction where I thought a hospital should be, until I realized that I wasn't making fast enough progress; so I got a little boy to pick up the other end of him so we could carry him faster. Soon after this we ran into a woman who expressed mild surprise and disapproval and asked why I didn't just call an ambulance. I replied, distraught, that I couldn't do that because then I wouldn't be sure that he had made it to the hospital all right. I was also worried about showing up with him at the emergency room (having been the one that stabbed him), but I was ready to risk being caught in order to make sure that he had at least survived the trip.

After that my alarm went off, and after pushing the snooze button I started dreaming about eating "sea mushrooms". I was at the beach with my husband and there were massive amounts of marine mushrooms (?!) that had washed up on the beach in a recent storm. I didn't like them very much, but I kept picking them up and eating them.

*This is not the first dream I've had involving stabbing someone, and I highly recommend *not* dreaming about stabbing. It's extremely alarming and unpleasant.