I saw somebody on another blog post a dream she had, so I thought I'd follow her example--since I haven't had anything interesting to say for a while.
Dreams are strange and interesting. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I actually dreamed.
Or perhaps it is that this morning, for the first time in a long time, I actually remember what I dreamed.
So I'll type it all up before I forget it, that everyone may see what strange things go on in my head while I'm sleeping.
I dreamed about murder.
I was in a large park, with brilliantly green grass as far as eye could see, except where it was darkened by the shadows of luxurious oaks and firs. Everywhere
people were walking in period dress (I'm not exactly sure what period, but I think roughly Jane Austen), and all seemed lovely and at peace--
but there was an evil presence. An unknown sniper was blowing poison darts at these lovely people (always while their backs were turned), and I could
see large, dark blots appearing on their backs (not always necessarily where the dart had hit), that would grow larger and trickle down in streams of blood
before the people would fall in an agony of contortions and die with foam on their lips. The scene changed to that of a man, a father, on his deathbed.
As his adult children (and I) watched, his eyes rolled up in his head, and the same white foam spilled out of them and from his open mouth. It was horrifying,
and a mystery, because we didn't know who had done it. Somehow the dream progressed, and we found that two of his younger children, who were twins, seemed
to be not as ignorant about the matter as the rest of us--but they weren't speaking. The next thing I remember is a dark room at night. I think I was there with some of the dead man's children, and I said to them, "Maybe we should talk to the twins. I think they know more than most people." (By this I don't think I meant
mere cognisance of the secret behind the mystery...rather I think I felt they were somewhat clairvoyant.) The next moment, the twins were mewing at the door, so I let
them in. The twins were now a pair of charcoal-grey tabby kittens, whose mother was under the bed. I held them for a while, but they wanted to get away to nurse with their brothers and sisters. While they were nursing and purring, I said: "Yes, these twins know more than the others; you see, their siblings think they're just nursing--but the twins know it's really pate de foie gras." I'm sorry, that's just weird. Afterwards, the kitten twins were singing in very cute gender-neutral child voices. Disturbing.
After this, I dreamed about two fiber-optic chameleon spiders that were out to get me. Actually, they were neither fiber-optic nor chameleon--nor even spiders, except originally; but the combination of ideas is the best I can do to describe them. When I first saw them crawling in the bathroom sink, they looked like miniature tarantulas. One had yellowish fuzz on its head and abdomen,and the other red. I wanted to squish them immediately, but my feet were naked, and I couldn't find any weapon with which to squish them before they crawled out of the sink and onto the floor. This was an unwelcome development. Here they could get at my feet. I think one of them did, because I suddenly had a swollen growth on the smallest toe of
my right foot. As I watched, these spiders (which had now morphed into long, thin beetles--though they were still spiders, of course) changed color. One was a pale blue with a yellow head and a red wavy stripe down its back, the other yellow with a pale blue head and a black stripe...but the spiders changed color slowly, continually, as though they were fiber-optic. Their backs and heads would fade from yellow to blue to yellow, and the stripes changed color, too--although I never saw them change color, I knew they did. I made a move toward the spiders to frighten them, and one climbed onto some pipes and changed into a brown chameleon color (this one looked like a spider again). However, on the floor remained now two spiders, who were making runs at my bare feet. Placing one hand on the wall and the other on the bathroom counter, I lifted myself off the floor-- but I knew I couldn't
stay that way for long....Presently my mother happened by, and asked what I was doing. I told her about the spiders, and their fascinating way of changing color. She asked me why I didn't just squish them.
I think I woke up then, because I don't remember anything more.
I laughingly challenge anyone to interpret these.