Sunday, September 30, 2012

Unwrapping a foil-covered pony

I've been having wild dreams for months now, with surges of dream activity that last about a week. I'm in one now. Last night, it was like dreams were fighting for attention. I'd shake one off and another would immediately form. I woke up at one point in the night and became conscious enough to remember about a dozen dreams. I thought by thinking about them for a moment, I might remember them all.

Nah. Most of them faded back to wherever it is forgotten dreams go (and I bet it's crowded there), but I do recall a few dreams and snippets of dreams. In one, there was a pony wrapped in aluminum foil nuzzling my hand. I could feel the warmth and moisture from his mouth somehow, even through the foil. He seemed content, but I couldn't help think that being covered in foil would harm him (duh!), so I decided to unwrap him right away. He was very trusting as I did so, and I wondered if he'd trusted the person who did this to him as well, and that made me angry and a little sad.

Then in one long dream, a psychotic Asian man entered my house through a window and was forcing me to make stew. ??? Yeah, figure that one out. I can't remember what it was he threatened to do if I didn't make the stew, but he looked like he meant business. As scary as this dude was to begin with, he mellowed throughout the dream and ended up teaching me to make stew instead of forcing me to do it. And no, I don't remember the recipe.

I've mentioned on this blog that I rarely have nightmares where I'm in danger or scared, but I had a good and creepy one last night. It started with a very odd situation and got worse. Our dog Tripp had a tongue like a frog's, and I watched as he caught flies that were buzzing against a wall. He kept shooting out that tongue, stabbing and stabbing at the flies, but then they congregated near an electrical outlet, and I became afraid that long, thin, wet tongue would hit an outlet and electrocute Tripp.

I went to stop him and felt something all over my face and head. I'd walked into an enormous spider web, and it was loaded with spiders and their prey. I reached up and found the web was all tangled in (what there is of) my hair. I pulled basketball-sized globs of web (with little black, squirming things in it) off my head, but I could still feel it, and I'd pull off more and more. I glanced in a mirror, and it looked like I had a thick wild mane of hair that hung past my shoulders, but it was all spider webs.

Then my father came around a corner. His eyes got wide at seeing me, but then I remembered he was dead, and the dream evaporated.

Actually, my father made several appearances last night. I don't remember all the details this morning, but his appearance kept breaking apart the dreams. I was certainly glad to see him during the spider web dream. More than ten years after his death, and he's still helping me out. Thanks, Dad.

A nice benefit of having all these dreams is that, with my imagination so engaged during the night, I woke with an idea for a little Halloween story I need to write about a pumpkin lady. And now I'm off to check Tripp's tongue, and you got to know I'll be watching for spider webs today.


  1. I've been trying to leave a comment since last night. Phew, I was beginning to worry.

    Anyhoo, all I really had to say was why shouldn't our loved ones want to speak to us. And what if the only way was thru our dreams? Makes sense. My parents, especially my Dad often visits me that way. Lately I've stopped and waited for him to say whatever he feels the need to say. It's generally something that makes me roar with laughter.

  2. Someone else contacted me reported problems leaving a comment yesterday, Joylene. Maybe whatever glitched is now unglitched.

    That's nice, Joylene. At one point in my dreamfest night, I woke confused about when my father died. I guess because he kept coming into my dreams, and I kept realizing he was gone. I woke and lay there thinking, "my dad just died," and it felt fresh. Then facts swam into focus, and I remembered it's been over 10 years.

    Still...It's always nice to see him.

  3. It's been 10 years! Wow, Keith, you're right, it feels like yesterday. My Mum's been gone 12, may Dad 29.