do you remember your dreams?
Alas, the last camping trip of the summer is over and I have nothing but
Christmas to look forward to for a vacation!
I had three interesting dreams this morning. One of them is too convoluted to
write coherently, but here are the other two.
DREAM THE FIRST:
In order to prevent mutiny aboard a historically restored ship, we had to
trace the origins of a previous mutiny. This involved going into all the
rooms on the ship and looking in the corners for pieces of slag and stone.
These clues marked the progress of the crew, who had secretly been learning to
make stone and iron tools and weapons.
Once we had pieced together all the clues, the progression of the crew's
skills pointed us in the direction of where they had gone when they had jumped
ship. This location would also be where our present-day crew had disappeared
to. We ended up on a highly forested island, home to hundreds of very tall
and very graceful (and perfectly silent) brown-skinned people. They didn't
seem at all surprised to see us, and we found that our crew had been there for
some time, enjoying the peace, and perfectly insistent on staying. We
surmised, from the pigment variation among the island people, that the
historical crew had also decided to stay.
DREAM THE SECOND:
I took my mother to Carlingwood Shopping Centre because she had to do some
exercises in this special gym there, which was really just a very small white
room. I took her wallet into the lockerroom for safekeeping, but I couldn't
find a locker with a lock on it. Everyone else there had just put their
incredibly girly backpacks into the lockers and left them open, but I was
leery of doing this, as the girls in the room were all young and highly
catty. None of them would tell me where the bathroom was, and I really had to
pee. They were also making rude remarks about my mother, calling her "the
dead bird."
At this point, I was getting really angry, and when one of them reached into
the locker that held my mother's wallet and pulled it out, remarking, "Oh,
this
must belong to the dead bird," I snatched it out of her hand and
stomped off to find the bathroom for myself.
I wandered down a long hallway until finally I saw a sign for a washroom. I
walked in and the place was huge. Not wanting to deal with people, because I
was still very angry, I ignored the group of people near the front and walked
to the back corner. As I entered my stall, however, I noticed that someone
had followed me back there. And that person looked suspiciously like a man.
I had no sooner undone the top button of my jeans when his head appeared over
top of my stall. I asked him angrily what he thought he was doing, and he
mouthed, "I'm looking at you, my pretty," and then he leered at me.
Incensed, I stood up on the toilet seat, pointed at him, and shouted,
"PERVERT! PERVERT! PERVERT!" I remember thinking that this was the first
dream where I'd ever had to shout and had actually been able to. Most of the
time nothing more than a whisper comes out of my mouth. Then I looked around
and realized why this was so. I WAS IN THE MEN'S BATHROOM. The pervert, who
had cowered on the floor during my denunciation, escaped during the ensuing
laughter. Not embarrassed at all, however, I apologized for entering the
men's bathroom. As I stepped down off the toilet seat, I said loudly, "But he
was still a pervert." One man came forward and asked me for a description of
him: beige touque, gray beard and long gray hair, dark green or black trench
coat. Then he took off in hot pursuit and I woke up, because I actually did
need to pee.
Posted by Ally at September 6, 2005 11:49 AM