Friday, September 30, 2005

One bad dream, one good dream

I had a scary dream the other night in which we were moving to our new place. But the new place was a sort of post-apocalyptic version of my grandparents' old house, which stood on the banks of a stony creek. In the dream, the creek roared over its banks, turning the land to swamp. I was not too worried — such flooding had happened before — until I started getting pelted with frogs.

The frogs were flying at me from all directions. At first, I thought they were raining from the sky. But then it became apparent that they were criss-crossing the field of their own volition. Were they frightened of the flooding? No. They seemed intent on smashing into me and knocking me down. I held up a book and began swatting frogs as if they were tennis balls. Then the frog volley got too intense and I started worrying about our four cats (four? we only have three) who were also out in the storm.

I put my head down and marched forward, ignoring the torrent of frogs now splatting against my torso and legs. When I moved toward them, the unlucky frogs burst like water balloons and slid stickily down my front. I called for the cats, and caught a glimpse of Love Kitty, darting under a bench. He looked oddly small. G. ran under my legs, and I knew that he was the most vulnerable, so I decided to run him into the house. The cats were sure to be flailing in their terror, so I would ferry them indoors one by one.

My grandmother's house was perfectly unchanged. I felt such relief as I slipped up the back stairs and into her kitchen. But then G. slipped my grasp and turned into a bee. Frantically, I pawed the air, trying to catch him. He alighted on the door of the stove, and I watched in horror as a slack-jowled hound dog came out of nowhere and proceeded to lick him.

I shoved the dog out of the way, but he was determined. The bee got soaked. I shoved the dog again and then tried gently to cup the doused bee — my little G. — in some paper towels. I ran a towel over his wings... and rubbed the the wings right off. The bee disintegrated in my hands and I cried out in horror. There was no reversing this mistake. G. was gone.

I woke up, shaking and upset. Then I sat on the floor of the bathroom, trying to parse such a silly dream.

[Next: a better dream]


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