As some of you may know, I’m kind of prone to having wacky, surreal and incredibly evocative dreamscapes. For the last while my dreams have been no less insane but I struggle to remember them through the onslaught of wake-ups by the loin fruits requesting corn on the cob for breakfast (!!?!) or wondering if I cleaned their favourite undies. This morning, however, I was able to recall the dream I was woken from very well and now, poor dears, you get to read all about it:
The dream began at a dinner with the party members of the wedding the sprogs and I are in come June. After the dinner we quickly wrapped up, cleaned up and just sat chatting and lounging under a vividly starry summer sky (I could tell it was summer due to the constellations present – which of course makes no sense in the grand time scheme of reality, but it’s a dream; nonsense is its prerogative.) I had a small mystery child of 2 or 3 years of age on my lap. I’m not sure where she came from or to whom she belonged but she was actively listening to the adults banter around her when I engaged her in naming the constellations we could see. So she and I were staring up in the sky with the white noise of conversation going on around us when the sky directly above did what could only be described as ‘shattered’ like an oddly sky-shaped pane of glass, parts of which began folding in on themselves like bits of sky-coloured origami to reveal a massive UFO which seemed to be made of little other than millions of lights in millions of colours which could have been mistaken for stars themselves were they not so colourful (if you can imagine those robot/alien things from Titan AE in spaceship form with more colours and drawn by a pointillist with OCD you’re probably good for half a clue.) The ship quickly blinked away and the sky returned to normal with a reversal of the folding action by which it disappeared.
Where I was rather nonplussed about the whole event, the sprog on my lap was down-right freaked. She took on a Damien-esque intensity in relating to me the nature of the evil we had been exposed to. Her attention could not be drawn away from the sky as she was convinced that the weird and wonderful space craft would return to get us all. Though it was only she and I who witnessed the first appearance of the UFO, the rest of the party’s attention was drawn to my efforts to quell her worries and caught on to what we were looking at and for. Soon enough, with everyone watching, the phenomenon unraveled again.
This time it didn’t blink away immediately. This time it seemed to notice that it had been noticed and with a strange level of sentience it turned to look back at us, pointing its long nose directly at us from what used to be the sky. Then it blinked away again. Then everyone lost their shit. In the hubbub of the communal freak-out the craft returned with the same level of drama with which it came the times before; this time closer and rather more menacingly, angling then extending its nose down until it almost touched the table in the centre of our little group and dropped an alien (which looked quite a lot like Hordak from the She-Ra cartoons) in the middle of the table. Somehow, the small child in my lap had armed herself with a long garden tool (I’m thinking it may have been a hoe,) lept from my lap and impaled the alien thing on the blunt end of it through the back of the neck. And that was the end of the dream.
If you’ve read this far I think you deserve a cookie…or a gold star…or an award of some sort. In fact, I think I’ll offer one…but not without working just a little bit harder first. I will give away one of my precious Marcel Dzama prints & my undying affection to whomever comes up with the most convincing interpretation of this dream.
Here are the ground rules:
A) Submissions must be made in the comments of this post chez le blogue proper (take note, facebookers – I’m sorry, but I’m far too lazy to compile notes from both venues) and you must be willing to share – if it shows up in my inbox it doesn’t count.
B) Submissions can come from any school of dream interpretation – even your own made up ones.
3) Closing date will be a week tomorrow – Friday, May 16, 2008.
D) As much as it pains me, I will disregard any issues with spelling, grammar or punctuation in the decision-making process, though I reserve the right to make fun of people for these misdemeanors behind their backs and to their faces forever and ever, amen.
E) Bonus marks will be given for creativity.
F) Submissions must be reasonably clean (take note, Freudians) I don’t want to read about anything that wouldn’t air on Canadian prime time television – ie: euphemisms and clinical terms for body parts are permitted but lengthy, detailed accounts of how the secretion of bodily fluids come about are not permitted – if you really want to tell me about how all of the phallic symbols in my dream mean that I have penis envy, that’s fine. Fine, but so unoriginal you won’t win.
7) Points will be docked for gratuitous use of curse words. I know I swear on my blog but it’s my blog and I declare it a dictatorship, not a democracy – so do as I say and not as I do.
H) I don’t want posts about how much more fucked up your dreams are than mine. It’s not that I don’t care it’s just that this one’s all about me, so stay on topic. If you want to share go get your own damn blog and make your own post about it. Let me know when you do and I’ll do my best to read it, pick it apart and possibly make fun of you too.
There you have it. Consider it an exercise in creative writing. Consider it an act of armchair psychology. Either way, I want to know what you lot think about it.