The outside universe intruded entirely too much on my sleep last night. For starters, I was having disturbing dreams about my friend's son River. River's an adorable and extremely intelligent 7-year-old with, unfortunately, the emotional problems of a seriously troubled and angry teenager. Hence, I've been hearing a lot about him, mostly involving phrases like "no clue how to help" and "what's gotten into him". In last night's dreams he was winding up in places where he was in physical danger and help couldn't quite reach him... later he was identified as not actually being River, but rather some other entity in a River disguise which mustn't find out that we'd figured out its identity. Its disguise was much more convincing than my subconscious's paltry effort at pretending I was dreaming about something other than reality.
But at one point it really went too far. Sometime this morning, while other members of the household were awake and getting ready for bed, and I was still snoozing, someone slammed a cabinet in the kitchen twice. Slam! My dream-view was jerked across the room to a window, facing a dark sky, with an angry and sinister-looking man pounding on the other side of it. Slam! There he was again, pounding away. I was just slightly awake enough to realize after the second slam that what I was hearing was a kitchen cabinet, but not quite awake enough not to turn it into part of the dream.
We can't be having this. I mean, the whole thing about dreams is that they fuckin' aren't what's immediately relevant to you at the time! It isn't fair. I demand that if I'm going to have alarming dreams they should be about Martha Washington being menaced by giant, leering root vegetables and marmots playing sitars. With their NOSES.Posted by dianna at November 5, 2003 09:53 PM