Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Dreams. Weird, Weird Dreams ...

I dream. Well, everyone dreams. But most people don't remember their dreams.

I do.

Some more than others, in varying levels of detail.

But last night's? Whew.

Generally, caffeine doesn't affect my ability to go to sleep. Then again, I don't usually consume it at 10 o'clock at night. Which I did last night. So I was up until about 1 this morning. So last night's dreams were really this morning's dreams. Timing aside, though, they were doozies.

One was about my friend Dave. He was standing in the sump pit in my crawl space, manipulating my sump pump to keep my basement from flooding. The part of the basement in which I was standing was very dim and there was a strange blue light in the crawl space. I shined a flashlight into the space, and when Dave saw me, he crawled out and I held him to me because he was so weak, he could barely stand up. I told him that I needed to take him to the hospital. He told me that he'd be OK in a minute. [Note: Hmmph. Stubborn men.] I insisted. So we went to a car, which was parked inside a very '70s room, dark paneling, dark carpet, with a sliding glass door. The car was more like a dune buggy in that it was mostly just a frame with wheels, but it was very small, more like a child's plaything than an actual car. And a teenage girl was with us, but it wasn't his daughter. She had dark hair and a bad attitude, pissed that she had to sit in the back seat.

So I drove us toward the hospital but I wasn't sure if I should take him to the emergency room or to admitting, so I had the pissy girl drive him to the ER and I went to another part of the hospital and would walk and meet them there. Except that the hospital didn't look like a hospital. It looked like River Oaks, an open-air mall near where I grew up (it was later enclosed, but in my dream, it was still open), and it was the day that all the bathrooms were being cleaned. Only some of them were being cleaned automatically, like with car-wash apparatuses and some of them were being cleaned by ... wait for it ... nuns.

[What's that? David Lynch is on the phone? He'd like to option my dream?]

And in another dream, or a continuation of the Dave portion of the dream, or a prelude to the Dave portion of the dream, I was in my bedroom on a sunny, spring day, but everything was shoved to the middle of the room, like I was going to be painting or like I was cleaning, and my windows were open and the curtains were missing so anyone outside could see right into my room. And I wasn't fully dressed and a guy I was expecting showed up early. But he showed up with another man, who looked like someone out of the early 1800s, the way he was dressed, and he had very straw-like hair, clearly cut with something somewhat dull. He looked a bit like a scarecrow, come to think of it. Like a scarecrow flunky to this man I was awaiting. [I never in my life thought I'd write the phrase "scarecrow flunky." It's kind of a great name for a band.]

The man is someone I knew in real life, who proved himself to be an immense jerk last year, but of whom I was recently reminded because a photo of his is the cover of album that was released a few months ago, and the band is now making the rounds on TV. Except that in my dream, he had long, grey hair, pulled into a ponytail, so he looked like Len, Samantha's cheesy neighbor in that episode of "Sex and the City" in which she thinks she's entered menopause and decides she'll never score another hot young guy, so she sleeps with him instead. And then ruins his expensive sheets.

We were supposed to be going to some arty event together, but in my dream, as in real life, he was proving to be a jerk, so I decided not to go, and I got so mad that when a woman I used to work with appeared suddenly, I literally threw her out of my house, down my driveway. She ended up quite bloodied. And I had no idea why I was taking my anger out on her.

And then there was the part of my dream marathon about my brother Paul, doing something up on my roof and then a bunch of men on my front lawn, in the dark, in the rain, clearing away large cardboard boxes that covered my yard, putting them out by the curb to be picked up by a garbage truck the next day.

I have a dream dictionary. I'm sure it will be of no use to me this morning.

But I'm of a mind to consume more caffeine about 10 o'clock tonight and see what my brain comes up with next.


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