Weird assed dream 1
me dragging a rusty wagon containing a headstone, a misshapen pumpkin, a tortoise sprawled on the headstone and 4 assorted bricks up a precarious eastern European road (guessing here) with faceless tall buildings on both sides...dismal sun free day, I almost get to the top when a looming dirty red tandem semi starts coming down the same road...seems to take forever for us to maneuver around each other. When I get to the top there is nothing, just flat barren treeless dead grass land... I look behind me more nothing, just me and my wagon of oppressive weight...my rusty wagon never squeaked. I woke up with a backache...
SO what the heck does that mean?
Weird dream 2
Open my eyes…one is under water along with one nostril…trying not to breathe in the water…I’m lying on the patio which is flooded from a recent deluge. I’m just laying there in a puddle covering half my face. I can hear the bugs, birds and critters coming out to check out the storm damage. Suddenly the furry legs of Shamus are in front of me. He sniffs my un-submerged eye and licks my forehead…he dashes away splashing my dry eye…fade to black
Open my eyes no longer under water…now crouched in the bathroom watching a silver fish dart in and out of a tiny spider web…this is some seriously weird ‘Ring’ crud going on without the severe cuticle damage or drowning horses….why won’t the spider eat the silver fish…
Now I’m at my sewing table with Graver’s Paradise singing in the background watching dust moats dance in the sunlight around my witch’s ball hanging from an orange ribbon… and end
Number one: who let the dog out without his leash on and why did no one notice me lying in a puddle?
Number two: silver fish…fish? Bug? Amalgamate of the 2?
Number three: what am I doing just sitting at my sewing table not sewing?
Just an odd view
I’m at eye level with the cutting mat while the massive rotary cutter slices effortlessly through layers of fabric…plaids, ginghams, paisley, dots and stripes…every print imaginable…my hands are placing the fabric and wielding the cutter…but my eye is at the level of the mat…I must be quite the contortionist…in the background I can hear Bathhouse Betty singing Ukulele Lady, there’s a train going by outside, Shamus is snoring somewhere on the floor behind the chair I may or may not be sitting on. I can smell the star gazer lilies outside my window. Just more cutting, more piling of a plethora of fabrics…it all seems freshly ironed, nice and flat…wonder what I’m making out of all this insanely printed cotton. From my view I can tell its regulation cotton not a blend or flannel… end of another odd dream!