I have crazy dreams. It’s a fact of life and always has been. I never know when they’re going to come or how often they’re going to come. Obviously, during times of high stress, I tend to have more crazy dreams than most. This week is somewhat of stressful for me. I’m in between things at the moment, not really knowing what will come next. Even though I’m not sitting around worrying and fretting, I know that deep down my subconscious is feeling some of that stress.
Last night I had two crazy dreams, one right after the other. The first one actually woke me up screaming, which is never good. After I woke up I thought, I should really write this down or record it in some way so that I remember all these bits and pieces, but I didn’t so we’ll have to go with the vast majority of what I can recall. I was wandering around a large building of some kind with long, narrow hallways, much like the back hallways of the high school I went to when I saw some of my cousins coming toward me. My Aunt, who is now my only living aunt, was with one of her daughters. Although I like her now, we were never really close when I was a child, so I’m really wondering what she’s doing here. Then I saw another of her daughters and one of her sons behind her. Then from behind me, there came another group of my cousins on my dad’s side. This was some kind of family gathering, so I followed them. We all walked down a narrow hallway into a large room where my Uncle Lloyd was sitting, but his wife was nowhere to be found. I realized that whatever we were there for was some kind of a memorial to her. She had died. It’s always sad when I realize that his wife died because she had been, in my childhood, my favorite person in the world. So in my dream, I’m saddened that Gramma Mil, which is what I called her, has died. I think I even cried in the dream.
At this point, my cousin, Karen, came up to me at a folding table with some music in her hand. She had a stack of music actually that she was handing out to all of us. It is a hymn that I had written for my beloved aunt and Karen was telling me how proud she was of me that I’d written it. She was telling everyone about the music that I’d written when a sudden burst of wind flowed into the room through the windows and the sheets of music are flying all around us, with discordant piano sounded like someone stepping on piano keys looming all around all of us. All of my cousins are looking through the air trying to catch the music, but none of us can grab hold of the papers as the wind grew stronger and stronger.
We are all suddenly in a basement, which is dark and musty. It actually looks a little like Gramma Mil’s basement, but I’m not really certain where it is. The light that you can see is a sort of blue/black light but I can see the faces of my cousins not very far from me as we sit on old, damp army mattresses. It’s only the girls because I can’t see any of my male cousins around, so maybe just the girls have been put down in the basement. But we’re not girls. We’re women. We’re the women we all are today, some of us with bad knees and graying hair. Some of us are in our sixties, as I’m one of the youngest of the girl cousins. Then my cousin, Diane, screams that she’s been bitten. She’s holding her hand as blood pours from her finger. Her sister is beside her and she has a hold of an animal by the tail that is screeching and spitting at her, frantically trying to escape Kathy’s hold of its tail. Kathy keeps her hold of that tail and I see, through more light from the basement window, the face of a hideous creature, larger than a rat with two big gopher teeth in front turning around to bite at Kathy’s hand. I get up and take my mattress out from under me and encourage the other girls to do the same and tell Kathy to let go, that we should corner the animal and let it go so it doesn’t bite anyone else.
Then I woke up screaming, breathless and annoyed.
I should never watch YouTube videos about trapping a gopher in a milk bottle right before I go to bed. I have absolutely no idea why I was dreaming about my cousins. God love ‘em, though. They’ll fight off animals and sing songs with me, even in my dreams. Shucks! Now I forgot the second dream. Oh, well, to dream another night.