Tag: nightmare

Old White Cars

My subconscious has been working overtime during many mangled hours of sleep. Since Trump secured the electoral college numbers to make him president-elect, I’ve awakened from uneasy dreams multiple times in the middle of every night with a horrible taste in my mouth and a lead ball feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m pretty sure that along with the nightmares I’ve developed an ulcer. Note to self: Buy stock in Rolaids.


A couple of nights ago I had a dream that keeps nagging at the corners of my mind. I know it’s political, and not even very subtle. Tell me what you think:

I’ve gone into a shopping mall leaving my beautiful blue car in a parking spot at quite a distance from the building, the better to get my 10,000 steps in for the day. After walking around the mall and trying on clothes in various boutiques, I return to the parking lot only to find my car has been taken. I’m devastated. The car was my favorite. 

I flag down a security guard on his little golf cart and we make several loops around the enormous parking lot with no success. Finally we call 911. When the police officers, Bill and Jill arrive I give them a detailed description of my car:

Medium blue, 2008 model, Chevy Allegiance.

“Ma’am,” Officer Bill says, “We’ll get right on that.”

“Can we give you a ride home?” asks Officer Jill.

As I’m getting into the officers’ patrol car, two older white men suddenly appear beside me. 

“We found your car!” exclaims Man #1.

“It’s right here!” enthuses Man #2.

And sure enough, there’s a huge car covered by a white cloth just a few parking spots away. I follow the two men who are so excited about showing me my car. With a flourish, they pull the covering away to reveal a beautiful antique car. It’s a gleaming white  Duesenberg.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” crowed Man #1. “It’s the 1933 model.”

“Yes, it’s lovely, but it isn’t my car.”

“It is now,” intoned Man #2. “Enjoy the ride.”


That’s when I awakened. Isn’t it amazing what one’s mind can do? A Chevy Allegiance? No such thing. A ’33 Duesenberg? 1933 was the year Hitler became chancellor of Germany. Coincidence? 

As Trump assembles his team of alt-right racists and hard core hawks, this dream has become even more nightmarish. I just want my blue car. 

Peace, people.



Dancing with Monsters

I awakened to the sound of music with a heavy back beat: Thump, drag, thump, drag, thumpety-thump, drag.

Four behemoths surrounded me, circling closer at every turn.

Three were unholy physical specimens, long of tooth and claw. Fearsome in their intent.

The fourth was lame, addlepated, carefully moving one stumpy appendage in front of the other.

Snatching at the box of sanity I kept on my nightstand, I watched and waited for an opening.

When the crippled beast stumbled, as we all knew he would, I dashed between his grasping arms.

Stinging pain sang through my neck, a lucky blow rained down.

I screamed, a tuneless melody of injured flesh, and the beasts paused.

“Yes! Yes!” they all cried out. “Now the dance can begin.”

 

Head Transplants: Decisions, Decisions 

Recently right before bedtime I read an article on Facebook about a surgeon who believes that within the next two years he will be able to perform head transplants.

Well, bully for him! I tried in vain to figure why anyone would need a head transplant, but it just didn’t make sense. Maybe if some poor soul had a decapitating injury and by chance his body was kept viable and another poor schmuck found his torso ripped to shreds yet his head was intact a surgeon could put the head with the torso and voilá! Frankenperson!

I read parts of the article to Studly and we brainstormed ways in which it might work. Then I went to bed and the topic entered my dreams for an epic, ethical nightmare:

Three children, two boys and one girl each suffering from an incurable head-eating disease. All will die within 24 hours if a new head isn’t found to replace their defective ones. One head becomes available. It is compatible with each of the three children who all went on the transplant list at the same time. I have to decide who gets the head.

I awakened in a cold sweat and I have no idea who got the head. 

That’ll teach me to stay online too close to bedtime.

Peace, people.

Life’s Little Lessons #3

with Nana Noyz

Do not read an article about surgically transplanting heads just before bedtime unless you are prepared to deal with ethically charged nightmares.

(If the link works, you too can have nightmares.)

http://pinterest.com/pin/AypGbwAQQF8BMbrOH5wAAAA/

Selfless Vampire

Sometimes my dreams are so vivid and so weird I have to write them down. 

Last night I dreamt that vampires were living among us. They attended sporting events and parent teacher conferences, did laundry and went for long walks. They did their best not to infect others, feeding selectively and carefully so as not to kill or turn humans. However, vampire nature being what it is, inevitably there were lapses and new vampires would be made. Everyone was aware of the danger, but life carried on. 

In my dream I was a young girl with a younger sister. We lived with our parents and an aunt. My mother gave birth to a precious baby girl and she named her Felicity. Everyone cherished Felicity. She was precious in a time of unrest. 

Soon after Felicity’s birth I was turned by a reckless vampire, and I turned the rest of the family sparing only Felicity. Our family guarded the baby night and day against any vampire who might attempt to take her. I was the only one who could actually hold the baby without feeling hunger, so she stayed with me constantly.

Now here’s where it got weird(er). My vampire family took a cross country trip in an old truck to watch a college baseball game. We arrived at the stadium and found our seats in the section reserved for vampires. I suppose none of the normal folks wanted to end up being snacked on during the seventh inning stretch.

Of course I was caring for Felicity, but the vampires around us noted her presence early on and began moving closer to our group. I knew if they ganged up on my family that we would surely lose our precious infant. I decided to take the baby to a neutral place–the concessions area, where she might be safer.

Seated on a bench near the hot dog stand I kept up with the game through the announcers over the stadium speakers and the roar of the crowd.

A normal man came and sat beside me and started asking questions about the nature of vampirism and how we expected to keep the baby safe. I wept. I told him I thought the task was both necessary and futile.

A group of hungry  vampires approached and the man fought them off, sparing himself and the baby. That’s when I knew what I needed to do. I asked the man if he would take Felicity and care for her, if he would protect her from vampires. He gave me his solemn promise, and I knew Felicity would grow strong with him.

When I rejoined my family no one even asked about the baby.

I was going to ask for interpretation, but I think I’ve figured this one out. I’d love to hear your thoughts, though.