3/23
This epic night of nightmares might be attributed to Blue Marsh’s sumptuous mushroom soup. The dreaming began with Mummy and I in a cottage. I went outside to a glorious English garden with tall red flowers. There were two dogs, buff and white Springer Spaniels, mating, but not like dogs; they were holding on to each other like people, face to face. There was an older fellow standing there, watching. I walked around to the back, and there were two dead dogs rotting in the tall grass. One looked like a big Doberman Pinscher. Then I saw Shiner, to the right, he was dying. I ran back to the cottage to tell Mummy.
The next dream was worse. I was in a pet store with a girl. Julius, my Betta fish, was in a glass fishbowl only he was big, big as an Axolotl. I was baby talking him when I picked him up and kissed him. We were in a small part of the shop hidden behind heavy velvet patterned drapes. Three college aged boys came in and started harassing me. One was very fat and bald. He was wearing a green sweatshirt and white bermuda shorts. I kicked him in the groin which did not seem to matter, so I said he must be very small. Now the other who looked like somebody out of Happy Days with golden curls, wearing a blue letterman jacket, and his mate were after me. I ran and forced myself awake.
The third dream wasn’t much better. I was in the garage at home in Clover Crest readying my car, Little Pearl, for a Gettysburg trip. I removed a blue glass water bong from up behind the pedals and placed it on a metal shelving unit to the left. Mummy and my brother were both there. Halfway there, maybe at a rest stop or visitor’s center, not sure, I had to stop in a crammed garage for a checkpoint. I was doing something in my car then came out around the trunk where I placed my items that had to be checked, maybe five of them, including my gold and cream fabric money pouch and a plastic bag with what looked like pink cotton candy or raw wool that was actually drowning floss. I knew if you had the stuff in your mouth while swimming you could not drown. A blonde woman was checking my things and told me that was smart as somebody had drowned last year when a man wearing a beige and brown uniform passed by. I thought he was a cop. The woman asked if “that nice young man took your money lesson”, referring to my money pouch. I said, “I don’t know, did he?” She nodded. I ran after him but he had already left around a corner. Very distressed, I woke myself up again.
Here comes the big one, it’s really rather ridiculous, I think, that I should have to dream for the entire planet of nondreamers. If Frankie is a dream eater, then I must be a dream hog. I’ll probably have to make more coffee just to get through; and I’m using my big birthday owl mug that Theresa had sent. This one took place at Chatham College that was very different from when I had gone there, much bigger, more modern. Daddy had taken me to school and was resting in an old dark wood stained twin bed waiting for me to finish classes; I had three. It must’ve been late afternoon. I was sitting at the foot of his bed talking to him when I put the headboards, about the size of cutting boards, into my bag. Afterwards I was with a group of women in a cafeteria that was dimly lit and looked more like an auction or mess hall. I was going through my heavy bag with books and headboards looking for some snacks in a plastic bag when a very strange fellow with a brown tweed cap and granny glasses sat down next to me and asked, “Do you drink?” I did not know how to answer when he told me that he thought that I drank because as was very loud as he. I told him it was because I used to be a teacher and picked up talking louder. He left as I pretty much told him to bugger off. The women were saying how creepy he was. When we got up the women noticed how heavy my bag was and how I was straining. They took me to a little stall that was bustling with students. They handed me a heavy gray wool drawstring duffle bag with a letter on it, C, I think. One of the women told me that a boy had bought it for me. The clerk handed me a wad of cash. I told him that I did not pay for it and asked who had. He told me that he was Asian. I looked around, and there were no Asians present, so I put the money in my wallet and went to class. My first class was in a crowded library, and I was not much worried about it although my book was a different edition than the other students at the table. Mine was a big green paperback with a white printed cover, but the others were purple. My female professor did not seem to mind. I was concerned, however, with my next class. I had only been there once. I didn’t even know what it was about. After that I was in a crowded lobby where there were rumors swirling about the two boys who had bought my bag. They were saying that they were big time, and drove sportscars. Their names were Lee and Chris. I was seated outside the classroom on a small set of bleachers with some other girls. One had long blonde hair and wore a skirt. She told me that she was thoroughly confused about the course as classes were always cancelled. She took three slim green hardbacks from her bag and showed me. They concerned Arthuriana, one had a Druidess on the cover and all had bare gnarly old trees. It appeared to be a history class. I began to feel relieved. I told I had read Le Morte d’Arthur and that she would like it. Then I second guessed myself, telling her it was full of superfluous things. Then something truly strange happened to a student in the class. It seemed he had been dropped in liquid nitrogen. The girl, his girlfriend, I think, and I were crying. I told her that he did not look like he had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. He had shrunk and was naked in a fetal position. He had a nice eighties style head of hair like Kevin Bacon. He was not freezer burnt. Lee, the Asian, joined us, and I returned his money. He insisted the boy be taken to the morgue, and the girl left with him. Later I ran into Chris, the other boy, he was a ginger. He asked about his money, and I told him that I had returned it to Lee and explained the entire incident. I was thinking that I could not fit inside of Lee’s borrowed sportscar, maybe. He was miffed at me to say the least, and I could not say that I blamed him. I was thinking that it was time to go when I came across a dark dollhouse, maybe six feet tall, in its own little alcove, that opened in two places. It was on a lazy susan, so could be turned about. I knew a girl from high school, Jennifer Davidson, had made it. It was lit. I noticed a lot of my dolls were there: Red Witch, Little Ron, my Victorian Nesbit’s, the Darlings, my wooden Santa, a nutcracker, and others. I took them all, looking, and crammed them in the top of my bag that had now changed into a supple pink messenger with many different zippered compartments. The headboards were gone. I was thinking that Daddy must be waiting for me by now, for sure. I was lost. A woman with old-fashioned upswept hair, wearing a pink ruffled blouse and long russet skirt, exited a set of glass doors on a concrete patio outside and offered me a bit of hard candy. I told her, “No thank you”, and asked the way to the parking lot. She told me that it was “downstairs through the lounge”. On the stairs were the same women from the cafeteria. I asked them if Chatham was a university now. I thought that it was from LinkedIn. They told me no, and laughed. They said that it was the online schools trying to make-out that they were real. I laughed too and thought so. The lounge was very busy. There were huge bins of DVDs for sale. Some girls were talking about a young man who had died and gave his age when I woke up and wrote down as many details as I could remember. I think a second dream notebook is nearly filled now.
Three Witches Magic Shoppe Adventures in Doll Land
