Damn it, the mattress demons (should I call them dreamons?) are still afoot! After Sunday’s post, that night, I had a weird dream about me and Trixie being infested with tics and I couldn’t find them and people were ripping them out of my head. Then Monday I can’t remember dreaming anything, but good god, last night, I had another doozer.
It started off all normal. That lady who was the conversational French teacher has been offering classes at her house at a reduced rate. So in the dream, I was being driven to her house by some man who I seemed to know in my dream, but I don’t know who he is in real life. When I got there, as I got out of the car, some other man grabbed my crotch! I screamed and told him to let go of my crotch! Somehow, the guy who had driven me there was gone, and there was another guy standing there laughing. The teacher came to my defense and brought me inside, and I was shaking and freaking. I asked her to describe the man, or better yet, give me his name so I could report him to the cops. She didn’t seem to want to! She gave me a sort of description and said he might have only been visiting her neighbour, but she didn’t know if he lived there. I sat there shaking and attempting to dial the cops. But every time I tried, I’d get a French newspaper. What the? That’s some very shaky dialing, getting a completely wrong area code and everything.
Anyway, some other people started arriving for the class. They all sat near me and I was still shaken up. The teacher asked me to tell my story, so I did, in theory anyway. I don’t have a hope of coming up with the french word for crotch, either in a sleeping or waking state. So my mind played a game of let’s pretend and said I spoke fluently about what had just happened.
The class responded like a bunch of hateful bitches! They all said that they could always count on me for being a drama queen and coming up with a good story. They said I was always whining and moaning about something that was going on. The teacher defended me, and said they were being a bit harsh, that I had talked about positive things too, but even she didn’t seem to understand why I was so freaked out. This is so uncharacteristic of the people who were in my French class that it’s not funny. In the dream, I was completely shattered, and remained silent for a while.
Then I got talking to a girl near me, I think one who hadn’t said much in this whole barrage of insults. She said she was a tech at an animal hospital in town. For some reason, in the dream, Trixie had an ear infection I had just noticed. I made some comment that I needed to take her in and have it looked at. The tech looked at her ear and all she said was, “Um, yeah. You should go now. This just appeared? No, this had to have been going on for a while.” There I was, shattered again. First I was a whiner, now I was horribly unobservant.
Then I woke up, with a pressing need to check Trixie’s ears. They were fine. What a horrible dream! What’s with all of these dreams lately? Am I trying to work out a whole bunch of stuff all at once? I can see shades of that whole glass-throwing incident, which has thankfully stayed quiet except for one time when someone fired off a cap gun, but the fellow got very sheepish when I looked up and told him to stop. He even apologized, so I didn’t know what to do. But other than that, there’s been nothing else happening. But anyway, I can see shades of that whole thing, plus maybe Trixie’s recent trip to the vet has got some part of me blaming myself for that. But why so many nightmares? Steve says I’ve been sleeping deeper in the new bed, so maybe I’m just dreaming more, and right now the theme is bad. I guess I’ll not worry until I dream about my brains falling out. No, brain, that’s not a challenge.