Tag: bizarre

My mom’s dreamy legacy

thanking and thinking of her on Mother’s Day

In honor of my mom on Mother’s Day, I’ve decided to report on something I wouldn’t normally share publicly. See, Mom was known for her absolutely bizarre dreams. And she has passed that legacy on to me. So as a loving tribute to her, I offer up today’s inexplicable edition from very early this morning. (Thanks for the endowment, Mom! I’m thinkin’ of ya!)

It appeared I had some tiny metal splinters in the middle side of my left forefinger. I tried to grab at them with my right thumb and forefinger, but couldn’t pull them. I then looked closer, and what had looked liked some black fuzz, was now a fully formed, but extremely tiny bird. It was only about a quarter-inch round in size, with bright pink and buff feathers. As I looked, disbelieving what I was seeing, it flew off my finger and lighted on a shelf or half-wall directly in front of a mailbox facing away from me about 7 feet away, and grew into a full-sized duck with similar plumage. I frantically asked Becky to take some pictures of it real quick! I wanted to see if we could identify it.

There were other people standing and talking near me. I still couldn’t trust what I think I saw, and pulled Carol and Ann close so I could whisper into their ears what I witnessed, and see if I was crazy. Then, as I looked again at my finger, which still felt like there was something stuck in it, the wound opened up and appeared as a deep, narrow throat. Looking down it I saw a pair of long black, curlicued antennae, with the tops extending to the top of the “throat.” I grabbed them with my right thumb and forefinger and pulled them up and out. They were attached to a long, narrow black insect, about an inch long, that crawled out as I pulled. I kept hold of it as it struggled to get away, and went over to a nearby sink. (We were neither indoors or outdoors, but both, what with the sink and the street mailbox in close proximity.) And I asked Carol to get something to help me drown it before I let go of it. It was getting bigger all the time, now at about 5 inches, with long legs and curly antennae, and still struggling.

She gave me an odd-shaped cup, like those for measuring laundry detergent, filled with a liquid. I carried it away, crossed the street to what seemed like a boardwalk over the street next to water, and I forced the now 18-inch-long insect’s head into the cup. It seemed to be extremely thirsty and actively drank with its whole head submerged. I then tilted the bug vertically and kept the cup on its head until it stopped moving. It was now about three feet long including antennae and legs, and dead.

I showed it to two men on the boardwalk and explained that it came out of my finger. I had thought it was a splinter! They seemed amazed, but looked at the spot on my left finger, and agreed that it looked like it had had a splinter. The monster bug was now starting to shrivel and shrink. I wanted to get back to show Carol before it shriveled up entirely. But I had to cross a couple street blocks to get back to her. But then there was construction on the parking lot and sidewalk. The sidewalk was all crumbly and taped off closed, and I was in a hurry, and had to backtrack a little to go around the construction site.

The end.

Bizarre dreamtales

what does it all mean?

I had a weird dream, which is normal for me, but unusually long. It had many connected parts, but the remarkable thing was how detailed some of the apparently important observations were. I told Carol I would write it down. “Why? So you can terrorize people?”

Scene 1. Choir practice outside on what appeared to be an elevated bed-like grassy platform. People were standing, sitting and lounging to sing. Our new choir director gave us new music with the cover filled with mostly words of different sizes and type. Near the bottom it told of Carol and me when we had our music ministry. I didn’t really read it, but I noticed it used my rovingnature email address. “Carol Rupp” was displayed in large serif font all by itself. So this must have gone way back. “Did you know about this?” I asked the choir director. She didn’t answer me, but sort-of smiled.

Scene 2. There were stones and sticks on the front edge of the bed-platform that I raked off with my hands. A planted non-descript flower in a cup appeared and I moved it to a nearby flower bed. The flower came out of the inch-deep black soil in the cup, appearing to be a long tube of some sort, with no visible roots—odd—but I put it back in and then placed the cup on the ground. Lot of good that would do.

Scene 3. Lunch at a round table: Carol, me, a non-identified person. I was quiet because I was astounded and humbled that anyone would remember our work from years ago and publish it on the front of a piece of choral music. Then there was something that covered my head, I think.

Scene 4. Waiting in a classroom with carpeting and no windows for the teachers of the NRPA Directors school to arrive. We stood and applauded when they entered through the door at the front right corner of the room. Everybody was good-naturedly teasing someone who was standing next to me. She had long red hair that hung in front of her red face. I whispered that it would be alright.

Scene 5. Cows. A mischievous brown and white Hereford calf had gotten away so I and a few others went to find it. We found it at the edge of a pasture just inside a wood and wire gate. There were 2 other Holstein milk cows there whose udders were so full they were touching the ground. So they were led away. Someone asked me to fetch the calf, so I did, but to return to where we were going, we both had to crawl through a shallow white-painted plywood box, about the size of a conductor’s podium—about four feet wide, about 6 feet long and a foot high. The hole on the back side, which is where we entered, was bigger than that on the front side. There were partitions inside. But the exit hole to crawl through on the front side was much smaller. I don’t know how the calf got through, but I couldn’t even fit my head in it. Apparently important: the rough-cut hole was square with round corners (it looked like it had been cut by hand with a coping saw), but on the right side had a narrow slot cut into it, about 2 inches from the bottom, that curved up and to the right. Obviously for my fingers to fit into to help pull me through, even though I was still holding the red leash to the calf ahead of me. I finally pushed through, popping the (apparently important) 6-penny common nails holding the lid on to emerge on the front side. (In retrospect, I don’t know why we had to crawl through it when we could have just walked over it, but Rationality never accompanies me in my dreams.) Merge into:

Scene 6. My leash was no longer attached to the calf, but to a very long, rather large model train extending 30 feet or so long that was moving through a paved playground area, where older kids had come for recess. Apparently important: the leash was attached to the train with a nice new, shiny, medium-sized snap hook. That end of the now very-long leash was blue. A teacher came out and scolded the kids for doing that to me. Not that he (meaning me) minded, but the next person to emerge from the box with a calf on a leash might. And that would be rude.

On waking I told Carol everything I could remember. What does it all mean?

“You’re crazy—that’s what!”

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