I Have a Dream

Occasionally I have dreams which one could describe as odd. Bizarre even. I once had an incredibly vivid dream in which I was in a video store shopping for Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre episodes (I was even rather overjoyed when I found one I didn't have...I spend way too much time with either children or with Jasmine, who has the whole series on DVD). I looked down, and found a tiny red cat at my feet. Tiny, as in the size of a mouse. Red as in the colour of raspberries. Cat as in feline. I'm sure that was a symbol of something deep and psychotic, according to dreamologists, but hey, what do I care? I know that the cat played a much bigger part in the dream as a whole, but I've long since forgotten act two.

I've also had several disturbing dreams in which my pet tarantula (yes, I really do have a tarantula) has died in awful, disturbing, and generally upsetting ways. Once, Pamela Anderson was responsible for the death (don't ask me where that one came from) and I was SO angry with her, and lambasted her for being such an irresponsible clod. Recently, the dream version of the tarantula met its demise by having its hairs and exoskeleton start to degrade into a slimy substance until she just fell apart in my hands. Unpleasant, to say the least. Perhaps I worry that I'm not a good parent to my beloved arachnid.

But all of this is a digression from the dream I wish to share with you. I have recurring dreams which all contain variations on a theme. I've never heard anyone else discuss this dream motif, so perhaps it's unique to me. Just the other night, it popped up ...

In these dreams, I am generally chewing gum, though it's sometimes not gum at all, but food of some sort. It's really irrelevant, other than the fact that I have something in my mouth which is chewy. I'm never quite sure whether I'm stuffing more and more of it into my mouth, or whether it just somehow increases in volume on its own, but in any case, I eventually find myself with a mouth that's stuffed full of gum (or whatever). While I never have trouble breathing, a problem nonetheless arises. Sometimes it's that I am unable to converse with anyone, due to my disgusting mouth full of gum. Still other times, I suddenly realize that I'm about to meet someone for the first time and don't want to make the first impression that would undoubtedly come with an introduction with a mouth absolutely and cheek-stretchingly stuffed with gum.

So, I do the only thing I can possibly do at this point. I start grabbing at the gum (or whatever) and pulling it out of my mouth. (The other night, I was conveniently located in a dream bathroom, so I was throwing it into the garbage beside the toilet.) No matter how much I pull it out and throw it away, however, I am unable to get rid of it all. I can get rid of a bunch of it, making it easier to talk, but there's always gum left. There's too much to just lean over and spit it out. I can only keep sticking my fingers into my mouth and grabbing the disgusting stuff and throwing it out in a panic.

It's more disturbing than it sounds.

Perhaps I should go and be analyzed at some point. You know. In my spare time. (Hey, wait. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that I'm packing too much into my life. One of my goals is learning to say "no" to more things so that I'm not running madly off my feet all the time.

And on that note, ROCKY rehearsals start this week. Plus I'm auditioning for a second show as well.

Maybe I just will never learn.