Since I only ever record the disturbing dreams here, I thought I’d post these two from this morning.
First dream – I am outside the apartment complex where I grew up, walking around the neighborhood with J. and someone else, on a technicolor sunny day. At the corner where I used to meet the bus in 2nd grade, there are huge protea flowers blooming out of a brick wall. I run to get my SX70. I unfold it as I’m walking along the sidewalk, and turn the corner to find that the flowers have closed in the direct sun. SO I stand in front of them to shade them so that they will open, and when they do I realize they are releasing puffs of scent with a sort of purring sound. I turn to Josh and smile and say “Oh my gosh, they’re purring. Can you hear that?”
Second dream – I am visiting in a house in the mountains. My stuff is there, but it isn’t my house. It is full and comfortable like the Burrow in Harry Potter – lots of drapery, miles of bookshelves, overstuffed armchairs filled with cats everywhere. Se has a mule that she is leading outside from the library/kitchen area, and I am heading opposite toward the front door, looking for and repeating her phone number in my head (so Jenn, I will be calling tonight). She arrives on a black horse with a white mane and a head of skunk or badger instead of a horse’s head. She is very competent in the saddle, but I don’t want her to lead the horse inside in case it meets the mule. I head upstairs to the attic where Se and I discuss plans for going out. Jenn is in a black SUV now and we’re excited because we’re going somewhere to celebrate my birthday. Se hops in the front, and there is a carseat in the back where I put my cat. There are several other people in the vehicle – just vague “friends” that we are going with.
We end up somewhere like our high school cafeteria, and it is full of people. I look around in wonderment and realize I know all of them, and it a cheer goes up because it is my birthday and we are celebrating. Jenn is in front of me, and we form a long conga line, hundreds of people up and down Escher-esque ramps and stairways, back out to the car, and to the house, where we conga up to the attic. Because it is my birthday, the man in the lead in front (very dashing and handsome, btw) singles me out to mambo with. His steps are complicated, but he leads so well that I am able to follow competently. We whirl around the attic, where the windows are dark because it is night, and the faces around me are smiling and happy.
And then I wake up.