Possumblog

The Worst Blog Topic of All.

Yes, dreams.

I'm sorry--making your dreams a blog post is one of those things that is simultaneously creepy, unentertaining, and boring, like Elton John; but this one is one of those that has stuck with me for more than a day. I can usually figure out what triggers some of these, but this one was a cypher.

Skip it if you wish--it's really dumb.

Or not--here goes:

It started out like most of my dreams do, in a shabby decrepit old building. I'm not sure why--you'd figure an architect would have dreams of glassy shiny new places, but the places where I have my dreams have all seen their better days.

Anyway, I wander into this dimly lit building with someone, and I think it was Reba, or not, but we plunder and explore and finally I come to something like a storeroom full of old books and furniture and junk and piles and piles of junk and cobwebs. There is an upper mezzanine that you can get to by a set of iron steps, and then you can go outside, but I stayed inside and found a small ell-shaped room off the main junk room that had a window looking out onto a small weedy courtyard. A window, I guess, implies it had glass in it, but it's just an opening in the wall, with closely spaced vertical bars on it.

It's a very pretty sunny day outside, and the building I was in--which looked like an old white stuccoed building--wrapped the little patch of green weediness on three sides, and then the open side spread out into a nice park area beyond. It was very nice to look at--something almost like what you would see in old towns along the Gulf Coast. It was nice even in spite of the tangle of junk all around where I was standing.

I was about to go upstairs and go out, then looked back outside to the corner of the building wing that stood over to the right. There was a shrub planted there, and as I watched, it grew like a corkscrew all the way to the top of the building! Quite amazing and amusing. It looked like something out of a cartoon.

Okay, now the weird part.

A lady dressed in very stylish Edwardian clothing walked up to where the tree was, and was about to walk up a small set of steps into the building. She was very pretty, with light-colored hair, a dark green dress, carried a parasol, and looked for all the world like a Gibson girl model. For some reason, at that moment, it was as if the whole scene was something out of an old movie. I hunched down and pressed my face down in the corner of the window between the bars, and started shouting, "TREE! TREEE!" like I was a drooling deranged idiot or something. Apparently in this "movie," this was what I was supposed to portray.

The lady stopped, and I just kept yelling TREE! TREEEEEE! TREEE! and she had a look of pitiful compassion on her face that anyone would mistreat a blithering mental case like me by locking him in a room full of junk. And for some reason, I couldn't break character--I just kept slobbering and yelling TREE with my face pressed to the bars, because me was 'fraid tree gonna get lady!

She finally turned and went inside, and then it was like the scene was done, so I left the room and went someplace else in the building and looked at some more junk, and then I woke up wondering what the heck I had eaten that made me have THAT kind of dream.

Stupid brain.

Posted by Terry Oglesby at April 12, 2005 01:26 PM