Dream Journal for Halloween
Not that I don't have regard for you all, but these are really more for my shoddy memory than for your enjoyment (though, of course, since it's public, you are still welcome to read them if you want some sort of oblique insight into my person).
I find myself walking home, to a house I rented a year ago. On my way, I find myself walking with a pretty young lady and we fall to talking. We arrive at the house, and walk inside. We wind up in the bedroom, sitting on the floor, talking and flirting, when a man sat up in the bed, his eyes heavy and half-closed from sleep. I found myself quite shocked, because I thought that I was in my own room, in 'my' house. The presence of two strangers didn't seem to bother the fellow, though, and he clambered out of bed and went about getting himself some coffee. (His face was craggy and lined, deeply etched with wind or hard living, but he didn't seem old enough to have those lines--maybe 45. He rather reminded me of Iggy Pop.)
The young lady (she was never named in the dream) was soon joined in this now-random house by three of her friends, and we were soon off and driving through the mountains. By now, it's night, and chill and rainy, and the driving is rather slow (we're in some kind of Nissan sedan, talking and laughing, and yet somehow sedate). We round a corner, and see a grisly accident scene. A car is horrendously mangled, and it is possible to see, even through the night and the rain, a pair of dead bodies lying covered in the emergency lane.
The dream shifts abruptly, and my father is picking me up at some observation station, still high in the mountains. I'm holding a pure white cat. As he leads me down to the parking lot, he tells me that there's something wrong with the cat and that I'll need to leave it with the vet. I hand the cat over to an old fellow in a white labcoat, and follow my father down a flight of stairs, where the dream ends.
I swear, these things make less and less sense the older I get.
I find myself walking home, to a house I rented a year ago. On my way, I find myself walking with a pretty young lady and we fall to talking. We arrive at the house, and walk inside. We wind up in the bedroom, sitting on the floor, talking and flirting, when a man sat up in the bed, his eyes heavy and half-closed from sleep. I found myself quite shocked, because I thought that I was in my own room, in 'my' house. The presence of two strangers didn't seem to bother the fellow, though, and he clambered out of bed and went about getting himself some coffee. (His face was craggy and lined, deeply etched with wind or hard living, but he didn't seem old enough to have those lines--maybe 45. He rather reminded me of Iggy Pop.)
The young lady (she was never named in the dream) was soon joined in this now-random house by three of her friends, and we were soon off and driving through the mountains. By now, it's night, and chill and rainy, and the driving is rather slow (we're in some kind of Nissan sedan, talking and laughing, and yet somehow sedate). We round a corner, and see a grisly accident scene. A car is horrendously mangled, and it is possible to see, even through the night and the rain, a pair of dead bodies lying covered in the emergency lane.
The dream shifts abruptly, and my father is picking me up at some observation station, still high in the mountains. I'm holding a pure white cat. As he leads me down to the parking lot, he tells me that there's something wrong with the cat and that I'll need to leave it with the vet. I hand the cat over to an old fellow in a white labcoat, and follow my father down a flight of stairs, where the dream ends.
I swear, these things make less and less sense the older I get.