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Well, let me tell you what happened. Last night’s dream was involved but I was able to steal away with impressions rather than a narrative.

First and foremost, my sister and Leah were conflated into one person. At one moment the woman was my sister and at another she was my sister, and every now and again it was some unholy union.

I was in a house full of twists and turns, along with stairways. The stairways were a nightmare since my shoulders, and overall body, were far too large to squeeze through them. At the beginning of the dream I was able to get through with mild discomfort, but as the dream progressed the endeavor became more and more fraught with panic and claustrophobia.

I wound up in a basement. More of a crawlspace. It was full of soft dirt as if something had been buried there. Behind me was what I believed to be a basement window, but it was a chute for dry corn to be poured into the crawlspace. Leah was squatting at a darker end of the basement talking about how Dorpy is buried there and I have to find him. This threw me into such a panic that I found myself outdoors.

Now I was in the waking life backyard of my house. The sky was clear, dark because the sun was about to rise, and I heard a voice telling me that if Dorp was buried inside then he’d never find his way out to see the sky and move on up to heaven.

That’s when I woke, spending the next few hours trying to sleep again by counting in duodecimal.

Chris S.
Anomalist, esperantist, cyclist, typist, dodecaphile, ailurophile, and oneiromancer. Chris lives near the shore with his wife, cats, and the Jersey Devil in his backyard.

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