More Freaky Dreams

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May 252012

Okay, so check this one out: I had a dream about Harry Potter. Which is weird enough, because I’ve only seen three of the movies and still haven’t read the last two books—it’s not like I live and breathe Harry Potter.

Oddly, in my dream Harry had an older sister who was also a wizard, but she was just as unpleasant as Dudley Dursley and was always harassing him to impress her Slytherin friends. They were flying on broomsticks, and she was chasing him so she could do some unpleasant prank or other to him.

Harry faked her out by flying through a cloud of smoke from a factory chimney and darting off in a new direction, while she flew on straight a ways before she realized. He then headed for a nearby body of water (I guess it was the Thames) and dove in, so he was hidden and she wouldn’t know where he’d gone. He did a quick underwater-breathing spell so he wouldn’t have to come up for air and reveal where he was.

While he was hanging out under the water, a sea horse approached to investigate. Except this wasn’t one of those odd little vertical fish with the prehensile tail. It was an actual horse-shaped animal, completely black all over. It looked like a horse silhouette, you couldn’t even see eyes.

The sea horse got to talking with Harry about how he was staying underwater for so long, and how the sea horse kingdom was having some kind of problem and could use a person with Harry’s talent for magic to help them. Harry agreed to come see what was what, and the whole thing was shaping up to become a fine adventure but then the alarm clock went off.

WTF, Brain?

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Mar 062011

Apparently I haven’t been watching enough television or something, because last night my brain provided me with this little drama.

In my dream, my youngest son and I were walking home together. He was younger than he is now, maybe ten or twelve years old. We approached the house from the back, and we saw that one of the back doors was open slightly. We immediately knew someone had broken into the house. I told my son to stay with me in case they were still inside.

We entered through the kitchen door, and I picked up my cast-iron skillet. (In real life I have often thought that thing would make an excellent weapon.) I called out loudly that we were home, and if someone was still there they should leave now.

We started through the house, checking the rooms one by one for intruders. As we started down the hall I heard a noise from the bathroom; we looked in to see a man outside the window, looking in at us with surprise. I went closer to the window to talk to him. He was a thin young black man, looking uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed. Behind him was a white 4×4 pickup I’d seen lurking around the neighborhood.

I asked him if there was anyone still in the house, and he said there were two other guys. I told him if they left right now, I wouldn’t call the cops. I didn’t care about any stuff they’d stolen, I just wanted my son (and myself) to be safe. As we were talking, the other two came outside as well, two heavyset white guys who looked a little older. The younger guy turned and repeated my offer, adding, “C’mon, let’s just go.”

One of the older guys said, “No, she’s seen us now,” and they both turned to come back in.

I said to my son, “Go call 911.” He vanished down the hall. I stayed in the bathroom.

One of the intruders passed the bathroom door on the way to the kitchen, following the sound of my son’s voice. As he went by, I stepped out behind him and brained him with the skillet. He went down in a heap, and I turned to face the second guy, who was staring at me in surprise. Behind me I could hear my son reciting our address to the 911 operator.

The second guy turned tail and ran back the way he came. A moment later I heard the 4×4 peeling out and driving away.

Then I woke up.

The whole thing was very vivid and detailed. I remember the general clutter of the kitchen as I got the skillet, how shiny and new their 4×4 looked, how the black guy looked neat and trim and the white guys looked kind of scruffy and unkempt. I remember thinking the older men had somehow roped the younger one into this idiocy, as he didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all. I remember the meaty crunch the skillet made when it connected with the man’s head. In the dream I probably killed the guy, because I was swinging for the fences—he’d been heading for my child.

What the hell, brain? Have I been watching too much nightly news?

Nightmare on Oak Street

 Dreams, General, I Love My Car  Comments Off on Nightmare on Oak Street
Jul 022010

Allow me to relate the dream I had last night…

I was a character in the Nightmare on Elm Street series.

We knew Freddy was coming to get us. We were all trying to pack up and leave town ASAP. Whoever could get out might be safe as he went after the slower ones who remained.

But things kept delaying my departure. I was getting gear together, disentangling myself from people who seemed to feel I owed them my time, fighting my way through panicking crowds. The crowds got thinner and thinner as people managed to escape, while I still struggled with the logistics of getting myself out.

By the time I reached the parking lot with my bugout bag, there were hardly any people around. The place was dark and eerily quiet. I threw my stuff in the hatchback and hurried behind the wheel.

As soon as I closed the door, Kruger made his move. The car began warping and twisting. The upholstery reached around and grabbed me, pinning me down. The clean lines of the Honda Fit became organic and uneven, full of teeth and blood and claws…

…and I said, “Oh, no, my car does not do that.”

Immediately the nightmare lost its hold, the Kruger-induced contortions ceased, and the car returned to normal. I locked the door, started the engine, and sped away to safety.

Even in my nightmares, I’m too offended by assaults on my car to maintain my suspension of disbelief.