The dream I had last night started out well enough. Excellent in fact. Steamy. My husband and I were not bored at all at the beginning of this dream.
However, right before the dream would have culminated in any sort of satisfaction it morphed into something else.
I'd gone from this very nice place in my dream and bedroom to having my entire house infested by aggressive and poisonous snakes. My children were camping out on top of kitchen counters. My husband was cornering snakes, and I was hacking snakes to death with my kitchen knives, barely avoiding bites that would kill me. Scared out of my mind.
Just when I thought the snake slaughter was over, I saw one last snake, the smallest one of the bunch, slither into my laundry to hide. Gently moving articles of clothing revealed that bastard, coiled, but I was faster and corralled it under a basket.
I held out my knife and moved the basket...
And at that moment, in real time waking life, my dumb gay cat jumped onto my chest...
Which instantly woke me up in the most heart attack sort of way.
Um. FREAK. OUT.
I got back to sleep well enough and now that I've had time to think about it, I wonder what Freud would say about such a thing. How does one go from hot times with the husband to hacking apart mother-fuggin' snakes in my mother-fuggin' laundry, terrified? What kind of phallic type inner meaning can we derive from this?
Is my cat psychic?
If anyone knows the meaning of life while we're at it, that probably figures in there somewhere.
Friday, September 02, 2011
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