Ok, Mr. Sandman can stop bringing me bad dreams. He can stop right now. I had another one about Trixie. Come on! Why is my mind tormenting me?
I dreamed that for some unknown reason, I was selected to go to space as some kind of experiment. I didn’t really understand why I’d been selected. I knew I’d be gone for a while. that’s all. I’d just gotten home from another trip when I got the call that I was supposed to come outside and get on a bus that would take me to the launch area. Trix and I got on the bus. We had to make some stops first. I then was worried if I’d have enough food for Trixie. Then I started to panic. I mean, I could actually feel the panic. I couldn’t breathe, my heart began to race. I was about to go to space with Trixie! Suddenly, strains of Jonathan Coulton’s Space doggity, a song about the first dog in space, began to float through my head, along with this excerpt from his post about the song.
In doing my “research” I discovered that Russian scientists recently released the truth about what happened to her during the launch, which is that she died just a few hours into it, and not after a week as they originally claimed. She died from stress and overheating (the cooling system malfunctioned and it was 104F in there) but mostly she died from being LAUNCHED INTO SPACE IN A FUCKING ROCKET.
It repeated in an infinite loop, louder and louder and louder, especially the last sentence. “She died from being launched into space in a fucking rocket!” “launched into space in a fucking rocket!” “Launched into space…” “Fucking rocket!” “Rocket!”
I was terrified that I was about to kill Trixie, my wonder dog. I was going to kill her because I was too selfish to see what I was doing, too short-sighted to think ahead. I couldn’t breathe. Hell,I couldn’t form a coherent sentence to the mission commander. I was panicking on the bus, the bus bound for the launch. I called my neighbour, and asked if she and her husband would take care of my dog. She said they couldn’t, and told me not to worry. That did not ease things at all. I called the counselor associated with the school, and began to spew my fears to her. She would not confirm or deny their validity. She just kept saying “Uh-huh? Uh-huh? Uh-huh?” I even called myself a myriad of names, and she would not reassure me. She just kept saying “Only you can decide what’s right for you and your dog.”
I decided that I didn’t need to go to space after all, and if I couldn’t convey my thoughts to the head guy, I would bail from the bus using whatever means necesary.
But then a set of new fears came to me. what if this would kill Trixie too? What if I had gotten us into a place where no matter what I did, she was going to die? If I hadn’t have taken this risk, would she have been ok? Then I woke up!
Where in the name of all that’s holy is this coming from? I don’t like the feeling of palpable fear in my dreams. The last time I could feel things this vividly, my endocrine system was getting all messed up. But everything seems fine now, so I guess I’ll just keep an eye on it. but more than that, what evil part of my brain is accusing me of not thinking of Trixie’s needs, or fulfilling my needs at the expense of hers? I think that’s what the dream meant. I mean, at the end, I decided to get out of the bus no matter the cost, but still! Why am I having Trixie-abandonment dreams again? They can piss off.