I’ve already described most of last weekend. During the day, it was full of activity. There was also action at night, at least in my subconscious, and Anne’s too. This post is about strange dreams, Anne’s and mine. Some say that blogging is just graffiti with punctuation, others call it navel gazing. This post is probably a mix of both. It is not intended to offend anyone, especially not our friends or family member that appear in these dreams. Remember, what I describe is only the stuff of dreams and you only appear in them, because you are so very dear to us.
The first strange dream is Anne’s. In her dream, she is visiting her sister in Ann Arbor, who has a baby. “I didn’t even know that Jane was pregnant”, thinks Anne. The baby is dressed in a maize and blue sweater and corduroy overalls. Anne asks, “Is it a boy or did you just dress her like that?” “It’s a girl”, Jane answers rather icily. “Oh boy”, thinks Anne, “I’ve really put my foot in it, this time.” She wakes up.
Strange dream two is mine. Kubie is driving me and my new Prius in a parking structure. She is careening through the structure, climbing ever higher. By the time that we reach the roof, we are going too fast to stop. The car hits the low, rooftop wall, bounces over it, only to get hung up on the wall. The car balances precariously on the wall, until I crawl out of the passenger side door. This unbalances the car and causes it to fall to the ground below. My dream fast forwards at this point and now it is I that is recklessly driving through the parking structure. I’m driving the insurance company’s loaner car, which also happens to be Captain Don’s PT Cruiser. Again the car is going too fast, when it hits the roof. Again the car hits the wall, balances and then falls over. I wakeup before I hit the ground.
The final dream is Anne’s also. She is sitting on a park bench alone, when a duck lands on the same bench, right next to her. She does not know how the duck managed to carry it, because it has webbed feet, instead of talons, but the duck has a little rubber ducky nestled beneath it. Anne thinks, “I’ve got to get a picture of this.” She reaches for her camera, but wakes up before she can get the shot.
After writing this post, I am now less afraid of offending anyone than I am of everyone doubting my sanity. But such are the dangers of navel gazing and/or writing graffiti with punctuation. Maybe, it would just be easier to purvey our psyches via traditional means, like letter writing? Maybe, I should stick to writing about the physical world? No, I like throwing it all out there, baying at the moon, and then listening for any answering calls.