Me been busy for a few days, but anxious to finish homework. Homework kept Me busy for days:
- Replacing garage door opener: Me up til 4am. I promise, although a bit deliberate in reading instructions and following steps (measure twice, cut once) Me busy entire time. Long story. . .
- Co-worker has bought her first house, a Lustron home, and had housewarming party Friday night. Me could only go for just over an hour as Wifey and girl-angel went to school camp-out, and boy-angel not allowed. Me and B-A go play mini-golf and eat ice cream. Me fall asleep by 9:30 due to #1 above.
- Saturday was busy helping Wifey's master garden plan by moving wood pile, going to both of my angel's baseball games, then pick up after dog, cut grass, grill yummy dinner, shower, and finally-- go to former co-worker's house for party w/ "the gals".
I'm hoping to get my permission slip signed soon.
Shandi was discussing dream themes the other day and the assignment is to reveal dreams relating to 3 categories: erotic, inspiring, and terrifying. I'm assuming we're working with the kind of 'dream' that takes place during R.E.M. sleep and not the daytime wandering-mind fantasy kind. So, here 'goes:
Erotic: There was a recurring one I used to have long ago. She was a beautiful blonde (OK, so I was stereotypical in my youth.) If you've ever seen Kim Basinger in "L.A. Confidential" (before she gets smacked in the face by Russell Crowe's character,) you know what I mean. She was wearing a shimmering gold dress- the strapless kind without sleeves- which appeared to be made from a mylar-type fabric as opposed to one put together with a
Ronco Rhinestone and Stud Setter. And man, was it cut just right. If you remember Curly's line in "City Slickers" where he was talking about The One with the sun behind her showing the "shape that God had given her," you know what I mean. This wasn't some kind of tawdry bar-whore dress, either (well, maybe from the waist up;) it was full length and didn't reveal the slightest bit of cleavage. I don't remember that there was even a slit on the side, so I don't know how the poor thing could have walked in the damn thing. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that she walked or even had feet. I just remember that wonderful dress, her wholesome face and being incredibly turned-on by her shoulders (the only part which
was naked) and how her body looked in that dress (the other parts I
wanted naked. I think I'm self-analyzing here...)
The confusing part is where this takes place: in a field next to a school near my boyhood home. The field had a football field in a bowl on one end and a baseball diamond way down on the other. For some strange reason our meeting takes place on the plateau above the football field. There are no words spoken in this dream, just an extended, hold-on-for-dear-life embrace and a good old-fashioned kiss.
Inspring: Not a lot of detail here as I can't recall any specific ones, or at least there aren't any recurring dreams burned into memory. In general, I think there's a cornucopia of dreams where I play the part of Hero. There are other dreams where I can soar like a bird or a jet-plane, but I'm convinced those took place when I was falling out of bed. On the other hand, Kim Basinger in that gold dress is pretty inspiring, too.
Terrifying: Hold on to your butts, folks! This one was common during many years of my youth. Like Shandi's dream, the first thing I can remember is that I'm running in the woods. Now, I loved being in the woods, but not this time. I'm not sure I can call it woods, it was more like a dark forest. The kind of place were you can't see much other than what's directly in front of you, or the golden eyes of your garden-variety evil creature lurking in the distance. And 'running' probably isn't the best way to describe it, maybe 'scrambling' or 'clambering' is better. I just know that I wanted to get away, and fast because something was after me and it wasn't good. I'm trying as hard as I can to sprint, the kind of exertion where you FEEL the perspiration taking place, but the image I see is slow-motion. It's as if I was running in place on marbles, but when I look down there's nothing but good old terra-firma. (Noteworthy: it's a well-worn path of firmly-packed earth in an otherwise lush environment. I've been here many times.)
I can hear myself breathing, and it's frantic. Not the low tones of someone enjoying their time in the hundred acre wood, but the higher pitch one hears when having difficulty breathing either due to asthma or because a big sibling is sitting on their chest. I hear my heart beating in my eardrums. I can hear footsteps too, but they're not mine because even though I'm running as fast as I can I'm not moving. The footsteps come in rapid clusters ta-da-thwip, ta-da-thwip, ta-da-thwip. The kind only a four-legged creature can make at full gallop, and it's gaining on me. I can hear it breathing; it's panting, but not laboring. It's more like a locomotive out for a Sunday cruise. Closer now, I can feel the tropic breath on my heels and I turn to see what's behind me. Oh no, God no! It's
The Wolf. Run! Run faster! You can't let it get you, it will surely kill you. Didn't you see what that wolf did to Old Yeller?!
I'm pumping my arms so fast they are just a blur now, but so is the forest. It's blurring into a dark tunnel, am I about to make the jump to hyperspace? Am I blacking out? I'M STILL NOT MOVING! It's gotta' be close enough to pounce on my back, it's growling the quickening growl of anticipation. I check behind me one more time but something has grabbed my left foot. No, something has stopped my left foot because I'm falling to the ground. It's a gnarled tree root from a towering oak next to the path, even Nature has turned against me. All the air leaves my lungs with a groan when I hit the ground. For some reason, I turn over because you HAVE to watch when the train wrecks, don't you? I'm shackled by the tree root, there will be no escape. The Wolf lands on me with a perfect 4-point touchdown, its forelegs squarely on my shoulders. Pausing only to raise its hackels, snarl, and expose it's fangs; it lunges at my neck. I can only turn my head, close my eyes, and scream for all I'm worth. The wide-mouthed scream where all the veins and tendons pop out of your neck, just like in Pink Floyd's "The Wall". But no sound comes out, there's just darkness. Darkness, and a fan running on Hi, and I can't move because I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm cold because the perspiration's doing its job, and the fan's in the window doing its job at the same time; drawing in the dewy night air and blowing it across my still, frozen body. My clenched fists hold bed sheets and mattress, if my toes were longer they would too. Minutes pass as I gather my wits and tune my senses to mentally take inventory, for I have to keep playing dead or it will attack again. My jaw hurts because I'm clenching my teeth. I don't feel blood dripping down my neck. My legs are cold, so they must still be there. My breathing is shallow, almost quivering, I hope it doesn't give me away. The air moving across my body is heavy and wet, but cool. Maybe the beast is withdrawing, but I can't hear it breathing because of the fan. Many times they play with their prey before devouring it, right? It could be sitting over in the shadows waiting for me to move. I strain to slowly raise only my right eyelid for that is closest to the ground and must be in the shadows. I can see my closet, I can feel my fan blowing cold air across my body, I can feel my bed, I'm still alive, this HAD to be a dream.
But I've been here before.
I was terrified of dogs, either due to this dream or I had this dream because of my fear of dogs.
