First dream of the new year.
Tuesday, 2 January 2018 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"Maybe You Confused Him To Death."*
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Last night I dreamed my mother was alive—though on her deathbed—at my aunt and uncle’s house. My aunt might have been alive as well, I didn’t really notice. I had other things to attend to because my mother was going to give birth to Jesus Christ.
She wasn’t actually pregnant. I don’t know how this was supposed to happen; I mean, even the Blessed Mother had to be pregnant to give birth. But she . . . led me to understand this was going to happen. I don’t know how, since she couldn’t talk. In fact, her mouth was missing.
I knew she was dying and I was wondering if she’d die before this happened and if she did, then what? I tried asking her about it, but she just sent me to handle the pamphlets.
Because pamphlets had been printed up to explain about Jesus’s birth and they needed to be sent out. The only problem was, the printing company had inserted their own abridged version of the Bible in the middle of the pamphlet and I had to remove the staples that held it in but leave the staples that held the pamphlet together. And then I had to instruct some decidedly uninterested helpers on how to do this, then examine the staples they removed. Our staples were blue, and if I found a blue staple, I had to search for the pamphlet it came from so I could replace it.
This sounds like my job, actually.
This went on for quite some time. We were in the basement of my aunt and uncle’s house (it doesn’t have a basement) and I got called upstairs to take my mother someplace; I was never sure exactly where we were going. I went upstairs and found her twirling around the house. She couldn’t walk, but she could spin around like a ballerina. Although it looked like an improvement, I knew it wasn’t one, and I knew things were just going to be more difficult until she died. But I refused to argue with her about the twirling. I just wanted to find the cat so we could leave. (I don’t know why I needed to find the cat. I don’t even know whose cat I was looking for.)
I went outside and yelled kitty-kitty-kitty for a while and wandered the neighborhood. When I came back, I saw the garage door was open and one of my cousins and her her husband and kids were lying in a big bed, watching the stars. (It was nighttime, but not dark. I don’t know.) I asked if they’d seen the cat, but they hadn’t. I told them my mother was better, she’d started twirling, and my cousin said that maybe she wouldn’t die.
“Yeah,” I said with no enthusiasm.
I went back into the house and into a room that doesn’t exist. There I found some more of my family, along with the cat. I was annoyed that nobody had answered when I was calling for the cat, but they were eating and playing cards and they ignored me. I said I was taking my mother downtown now, and we wouldn’t need the wheel chair.
We got to the front door, my mother levitating. I knew this wasn’t going to last but I really didn’t care. Everybody else thought it meant my mother was getting better but I knew it didn’t mean anything. We stepped out of the front door and my mother levitated several feet farther but in a straight line that didn’t account for the way the front yard slants abruptly. She kept going another few feet, then she plummeted into the yard. When I went down to see how she was, she was in a cocoon. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I went back in the house.
I do not know what happened to my mother.
We mailed out the pamphlets—I don’t know why, since it didn’t look like my mother was going to be doing anything other than maybe turning into a butterfly. Then I had a conversation with another cousin about our stegosaurus.
The stegosaurus—which was cream colored and about the size of a cow—had been dying. It never moved around anymore and parts of it were breaking off. But now it was cantering up and down the hall (it lived in the house) and the broken parts were growing back and it was changing color. Apparently a healthy stegosaurus has multicolored plates on its back. This one’s plates were turning the colors of the Grand Canyon.
Sure, why not?
I wish I could give you a clue as to what all this means, but honestly, the Grand Canyon is the only part that makes the slightest sense and has to do with a conversation I had last night about the Wisconsin Dells. I spent practically the whole dream being annoyed. Even the stegosaurus—who I was really fond of—annoyed me. He was supposed to be dying, not getting better.
Sometimes my mind worries me.
*Quitz, Dark Asylum
-:- -:- -:- -:-
Last night I dreamed my mother was alive—though on her deathbed—at my aunt and uncle’s house. My aunt might have been alive as well, I didn’t really notice. I had other things to attend to because my mother was going to give birth to Jesus Christ.
She wasn’t actually pregnant. I don’t know how this was supposed to happen; I mean, even the Blessed Mother had to be pregnant to give birth. But she . . . led me to understand this was going to happen. I don’t know how, since she couldn’t talk. In fact, her mouth was missing.
I knew she was dying and I was wondering if she’d die before this happened and if she did, then what? I tried asking her about it, but she just sent me to handle the pamphlets.
Because pamphlets had been printed up to explain about Jesus’s birth and they needed to be sent out. The only problem was, the printing company had inserted their own abridged version of the Bible in the middle of the pamphlet and I had to remove the staples that held it in but leave the staples that held the pamphlet together. And then I had to instruct some decidedly uninterested helpers on how to do this, then examine the staples they removed. Our staples were blue, and if I found a blue staple, I had to search for the pamphlet it came from so I could replace it.
This sounds like my job, actually.
This went on for quite some time. We were in the basement of my aunt and uncle’s house (it doesn’t have a basement) and I got called upstairs to take my mother someplace; I was never sure exactly where we were going. I went upstairs and found her twirling around the house. She couldn’t walk, but she could spin around like a ballerina. Although it looked like an improvement, I knew it wasn’t one, and I knew things were just going to be more difficult until she died. But I refused to argue with her about the twirling. I just wanted to find the cat so we could leave. (I don’t know why I needed to find the cat. I don’t even know whose cat I was looking for.)
I went outside and yelled kitty-kitty-kitty for a while and wandered the neighborhood. When I came back, I saw the garage door was open and one of my cousins and her her husband and kids were lying in a big bed, watching the stars. (It was nighttime, but not dark. I don’t know.) I asked if they’d seen the cat, but they hadn’t. I told them my mother was better, she’d started twirling, and my cousin said that maybe she wouldn’t die.
“Yeah,” I said with no enthusiasm.
I went back into the house and into a room that doesn’t exist. There I found some more of my family, along with the cat. I was annoyed that nobody had answered when I was calling for the cat, but they were eating and playing cards and they ignored me. I said I was taking my mother downtown now, and we wouldn’t need the wheel chair.
We got to the front door, my mother levitating. I knew this wasn’t going to last but I really didn’t care. Everybody else thought it meant my mother was getting better but I knew it didn’t mean anything. We stepped out of the front door and my mother levitated several feet farther but in a straight line that didn’t account for the way the front yard slants abruptly. She kept going another few feet, then she plummeted into the yard. When I went down to see how she was, she was in a cocoon. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I went back in the house.
I do not know what happened to my mother.
We mailed out the pamphlets—I don’t know why, since it didn’t look like my mother was going to be doing anything other than maybe turning into a butterfly. Then I had a conversation with another cousin about our stegosaurus.
The stegosaurus—which was cream colored and about the size of a cow—had been dying. It never moved around anymore and parts of it were breaking off. But now it was cantering up and down the hall (it lived in the house) and the broken parts were growing back and it was changing color. Apparently a healthy stegosaurus has multicolored plates on its back. This one’s plates were turning the colors of the Grand Canyon.
Sure, why not?
I wish I could give you a clue as to what all this means, but honestly, the Grand Canyon is the only part that makes the slightest sense and has to do with a conversation I had last night about the Wisconsin Dells. I spent practically the whole dream being annoyed. Even the stegosaurus—who I was really fond of—annoyed me. He was supposed to be dying, not getting better.
Sometimes my mind worries me.
*Quitz, Dark Asylum