My dreams are weird, but then I think most people's dreams are. Sometimes, mine are like full-fledged movies, in which I am playing a role. It's me, but not me, if that makes any sense. I am seeing the world through the eyes of a character.
Last night, I had this strange dream. I was trying to get to a library event, but I decided to walk, because it was near the beach. I found myself walking on a very narrow, very TALL sand berm, dragging a red wagon. When I got to the library, it morphed to a banquet hall, where my highschool class reunion was going on. We tried in vain to get food. I found myself stuck in a corner with a woman I knew slightly in High School, she was bragging about all her accomplishments- I see her name sometimes, she has done well in her chosen profession. In my dream, I kept trying to get away, but she kept following me. FINALLY, my friend Jimmy appeared. Apparently the venue had been holding food service until HE got there, but now the party was OVER and we had to leave. I found myself spooning what looked like REALLY dry rice pilaf and overcooked and over seasoned shrimp into small Styrofoam containers ( about the size you get at the hot dog cart, that fits a hot dog). Jimmy kept apologizing as he was helping me hand them over to people in tuxes and sequined party dresses.
I am NOT looking for Freudian dream analysis here.
But that was weird. But kind of fun when I thought about it. I don't always remember my dreams. I really should keep a notebook by my bedside. Some of them MIGHT make good short stories- if I can get the weird out of them!
I am so glad I never dream about high school anymore. Early this morning, however, I had a dream where I was a woman (?) going to the wake of my former husband (the second one, I think) and going down the hall of the funeral parlor - and as I turned into the doorway, I wondered if my outfit was OK. For some reason I had one of those Doris Day flip hairdos, topped with a cute black velvet bow. (Black, naturally)
ReplyDeleteThe funny thing is, having known his family, anything I wore (even in drag) would have been much better than what they were wearing.
In case you are wondering (and how could one not be?) I was wearing a little black a-line dress, but it had short sleeves, so I wondered if I should leave my little tweed jacket on or not.
It suddenly flashed on me that in real life, my niece told me a story YEARS AGO about going to a funeral and wondering about her jacket, until she saw one of the daughters in a sleeveless mini dress and knee-high gladiator sandles. She decided she was OK.
What does it all mean - well besides the obvious answer of "Fashion First!"
On the topic of dreams, rather than fashion, I am glad to say my library stress dreams, which do still occur, after 10 years, are becoming fewer and farther apart. Some people we both know still appear in them and are still horrible bitches.
Tom