This Dream Was Played In Technicolor Brilliance

I never sleep well when the weather changes quickly. I can sleep through an ambulance blaring past my window, a lot of neighborhood dogs barking, and any alarm clock ever made. I cannot sleep through wind without rain, a male speaking my name, or a ringing telephone. This morning, rainclouds moved in. I had no sunshine to remind me to get up. I had the soft sounds of "rain on the plain" to keep me in my slumber. This morning, I could not sleep through to the end of my dream. I awoke with a terrible backache. Serves me right for stressing in my sleep, I guess.

Let me set the stage. It was a not yet dark, and kinda stormy night. The "gangstas" were all out, and trouble brewed a palpable haze over the city. My friend was having a birthday. I went to a Wal-Mart to get her a card.

I had gone shopping downtown (anyone who knows me knows that I avoid downtown like the plague, so here we have fiction) to get a birthday card for my friend, and look at gifts, too. It started raining outside, and then inside (great neighborhood, let me tell ya). I had several blocks to walk, and a couple of turns to get back to my car. Here is where the stress builds, the music does the Dunnn-dun-duh that tells you not to go where you are going. I couldn't find my car. I couldn't remember which car I had driven there. I couldn't remember where I parked. I was searching the streets for one silver Chevy Malibu or one silver-blue Honda Fit. Yep, my dreams are at least up to date.

So, for the next three or so imagined hours, I am carrying two bags from my shopping, searching for one of my two cars. I casually stood in a line (I suppose to get into the dance club I was walking past) and ended up walking/riding in a car with three gang members. I was afraid to say much, because they might kill me. We walked or rode past a lot of fights. Viscious children. I watched them steal another car (a trap, but that is because I saw the guy who owned the car waiting for them to take it, so he could call the cops). I refused to ride in that one.

In the end, I remember one really creepy detail, and I am right now copyrighting this dream, so don't get any ideas about using it, OK? And, for My First Nicki Friend in parts East, you may want to stop reading this post now. Trust me. No more. Go back and read another post, find one about the Niecephews. You will regret it if you read further. Just warning you. It creeped me out, and I am the one who imagined it. OK, now that we have that cleared up and Nicki is still reading just for curiosity's sake...

One of the male gang members (There were three, one girl, two guys) tossed a spider at me, to test me. I remember it was dark brown and kinda scary looking. I somehow caught it in the hood of my jacket, and tossed it back at him, with a snide remark. That would have been clever of me. But... he was starting to talk when I flicked the spider, and it went in his mouth. (I will wait while everyone screams, cringes, and generally wonders if I have lost my marbles.) I was too grossed out to finish that thought, even in the dream. Ugh. The next scene is me asking where a park is, because that is near where I knew I parked the car.

This incomplete thought brought to you without commercial interruption by the Mind of Chelf, Nighttime Edition. It is completely fiction, because she would never shop downtown (where there isn't a Wal-Mart handy) and she would never go in the dark to a dangerous area BY HERSELF, and then simply "forget" where her car is. The moral of the story is this: Don't shop last minute for a card. It might get you killed, in dreams and in the real world. You really can never know.

I hear that if you dream your death, you really die. That sounds too scary to suggest to the Mythbusters. I wouldn't want them to try it, because there is really no safe way to test it, and no way to be certain. Who would say that, anyway? Did they (the mysterious "they" everything gets blamed on... and who are "they", really?) get revived from a death-dream to tell us that they dreamed it?

So, there you have it. I have creepy dreams that don't seem to mean much. I have aspirations that are tough and time consuming. I have lots of things I am capable of, but don't know how to start. So, I need to apparently write for some horror film now. I could make money, if I tried. I could write my dreams into horror movies; I could build a purse that actually holds stuff without being too big or heavy to begin with; I could name a few Ty Brand (Should that have the little TM symbol near it? I don't know how to do that with a keyboard.) Beanie Babies. My personal favorite fantasy future jobs are these: I could do voices for cartoon movies, probably with PIXAR/Disney (mostly because it is PIXAR, not because it is Disney); I could proofread for publishing houses back east by telecommuting (first reader has also been suggested to me); I could write.

I am not really awake yet, even half an hour later. I am not a morning person. The fact that I remembered this much of the dream, and communicated it in a mostly coherent fashion is some serious morning mojo I am not used to.

I am off to make something warm to drink. Beware to any little buggie that tries to cross my path today. The adrenaline and fear are still in me.

How was your weekend?