I closed my eyes, desperately seeking refuge from the reality that I was about to lose my best friend, when I saw him - my father, walking into the laundry room with a meat cleaver and a white apron. Instinctively I knew what was happening behind the locked door: he was "putting Tar to sleep"! I pounded on the door, sobbing hysterically, and when he finally opened it, I saw his white apron was covered in blood, and I knew it was too late. Tar was gone. He silently pushed past me, leaving the horror of killing my dog behind him. And there in front of me, I saw her: all chopped and ground up in a bunch of plastic bags. He had made hamburger patties out of her.
So this is the mind I'm dealing with. Fast forward to now: I'm three and one-half months pregnant, and things on the 'ol dream front are getting out of control. In my defense, I'm not entirely responsible for the oddity of my dreams in my current state. Supposedly, raging hormones are to blame. And even though I'm not very far along - barely into my second trimester - the hormone fuel for my dream machine is in full effect. While I can't remember what I've dreamt every single night, I started keeping track of the most vivid ones, of which I decided to share a short sampling, below:
- I was trying to rob a house with my mom and brother. Also, I was thirteen again.
- I was at my parents house, and someone was trying to murder us. I didn't know who the killer was, but I knew he was upstairs. Next thing I know, I'm in the garage, and I've captured the killer. Only, he was a miniature person, no bigger than a baby doll. I knew I needed to kill him, so I asked my brother to hand me an axe so I could chop off his head. I set the murder doll on the driveway and pulled his head from his body, revealing a spinal column that looked more like an umbilical cord. Then I took the axe and started hacking through the cord. It turned into a fleshy material I couldn't cut through, so I just kept hacking and hacking, turning the little guy over and over so I could go at it from different angles. "Fortunately," I thought, "there's no blood!"
- Charlie (my seventeen pound Ewok dog) was a bigger, white fluffy dog. She had a bigger brother (or sister) she was racing around with, and they took off chasing two monkeys. I was trying to explain to the owner of the monkeys, and older gentleman, that she's a nice dog and was just playing, but he was embroiled in a heated argument with his son over the injustices "we" (white people) were handing the Native Americans. All of a sudden, I was in the middle of a "battle field", and it felt like the mid-1700's. There was a white guy dressed as an Indian, trying to stand up for his "brothers", but aligning himself with their group only insulted them more. So one of the Indians threw a spear through his forehead.
- A girl I work with, we'll call her "Amy", took my job. I knew it was her, even though I couldn't see her face, and I was PISSED. I was complaining to T.T., my co-worker, about Amy as I sat on the toilet, taking a shit. No matter how many times I wiped, it wouldn't get cleaner. Simultaneously, I couldn't figure out what T.T. was doing in the bathroom with me. I kept wondering why he was there, and why he wouldn't leave.
- Woke up early this morning worrying that I would sleepwalk into the kitchen and slice my wrists. I was too scared to go back to sleep.
- I was doing a lot of speed. I only paused for a second to consider the baby, and whether or not all this speed I was doing would hurt him. I justified it by telling myself, "Well, at least I'm not drinking…"
And just last night: I had a dream that my brother took a woman in a wheelchair, with no arms or legs, as his date to my wedding, and all I could think to myself was, "That's a funny looking prostitute."