The dream hog got its revenge this morning. What a morning for dreaming. First, I was with Theresa, and it was around dusk. I was wearing little tie dyed sweatshorts, like I wear around the house. We were on a beach. It might’ve been a river bank, sandy with driftwood and rocks. We did not have a ride home. I was supposed to ride with a white man that Theresa knew, but for some reason I walked. It was very far away from home, and it began to sleet. The roads became very slushy with grime, and I was soaked. Three young white men were following me and seemed a worry until I ripped into them, telling them all off. They scattered. I approached an old factory, and when I entered I was no longer myself. I became a classy middle-aged black woman. The factory made garland, decorations for holidays, all kinds: Christmas, Easter, and all colors. There were big cardboard boxes and garland everywhere, so the place seemed a maze of boxes and I, the black woman, sashayed through the corridors wearing a tight sequin dress and swinging my hips. My hair was done up in curls. Some men from the factory started after me. They were wrapping me up in a clown box and turning me into popcorn. One guy told the other to eat me. He said that he liked popcorn pussy.
The next dream was very intense and came along with many warnings about childhood, innocence, and society. It took place in the late 1600s, that’s my guess. I was myself again, only about eleven years old. I had been adopted by a wealthy family, but I was not much. We were having a feast and many families had gathered for it. No idea why I was in charge of cooking, but I was. I looked for some meat to roast first. The meat was kept in a cellar with a dirt floor. There were some wooden crates to my right with a few seasoned chicken cutlets and two big portions of pork that looked more like thick pink giant sized t bone steaks. I chose them because they were the biggest and took them outside to a cobblestone garden where there were many toaster ovens set high against the back wall. Crusty bread was already baking in the ovens, and Mummy was there. I put blackberries on one of the cuts and cherries on the other and placed them into the ovens to roast. One of the portions, the cherried one, slid off the oven rack, down the stone wall, and landed on the cobblestone garden floor. I picked it up and took it back down to the cellar sink, which was deep as a laundry tub, and washed it. By this time my adopted mother, who might’ve been Elizabeth McGovern, all dressed in black, had regrettably called off dinner. She asked me if I had been drinking. I assured her that I had not. She asked if I had put spirits on the pork and why I had chosen it to prepare. I told her it was only cherries and that there was not enough of any other meat for the many families who had now gathered in the garden. They were all together in their small family groups, and each family had some sort of ancestral treasure with them like trunks, inlaid wooden cabinets, small velvet upholstered chairs, and large china dolls dressed in period Spanish gowns and caps. A game was afoot, a game that I should not have been playing, a cruel game of rumors. I was in the back of the garden when a man in his thirties, dressed in bronze galligaskins and hose, said that a woman was a whore and that she had brought down a man and ruined him. I could picture the woman that he was referring to, so I knew her. She had brown ringlets and wore a long gold and brown gown. I foolishly whispered his accusation to an older girl, and like the telephone game, the scandal started. There were whispers and accusations all around. There was a family in the middle of the garden that were called something like The Green Ladies. There were perhaps three of them, two girls and their grandmother. They had a big china doll with a pink silk skirt. One of the girls, in a red dress, who looked like a doll herself, was accused as the whore. I went to the family, siding with them, and cried. The grandmother asked if I knew Latin, and I assured her that I did. An older girl from another family ran up on us and stabbed the china doll with an enormous kitchen knife. The doll was ripped from the bottom. One of the families with older children had two big wooden gnomes with tall red caps as part of their family stash. A girl ran up and took the smaller gnome trying to destroy it. A blonde girl from the gnome family screamed, “I’ll kill you if you hurt that gnome!” Now she had made herself vulnerable to the crowd, so I repeated her threat drawing attention to myself. There was a ginger headed queer dressed to the hilt, in reds and gold, very glitzy, who was also defending The Green Ladies and stuffing his face with something. Meanwhile there was a commotion at the front of the garden involving my older teenage adopted brother with long dark hair who had drawn his sword in defense of his sweetheart. I was getting worried, looking for my adopted mother, wishing that I had kept my big mouth shut. I knew she’d be furious. I was regretting my honesty when a tall dark haired gentleman dressed in white approached me from the left of the back garden wall. He had an inlaid white cabinet, like a spice cupboard that was thin, two little drawers wide, but as tall as he. He begged me, saying he was not the scoundrel. I knew he wasn’t and assured him, “I do not know you, sir.” People were leaving or trying to at this point. Nobody was drinking, it was not allowed. I moved past a bunch of expertly made big wool stuffed animals, one, a gray and white kitten, was dressed in a little red suit like a child. A tiny white long haired dog scurried to a back room, and a girl said, “Surely, it can’t be a dog!” She meant the culprit. I was worried about the little thing. This crowd was out for blood. I was an outsider and sorry for my stupidity when two young girls began to argue. One, Laura Younkin, I knew from junior high. She wore a full gold silk skirt, and her hair was strung with ribbons and curled. The other girl had accused her, and she swore her innocence and accused me. She said, “Dana wants me removed as I do her!” I knew that Laura was not involved and told her that I’d not accuse a child. I was trying to be quiet and not give myself up when I woke up. It was a very detailed dream. I’ll try to use it in a saloon in DOC.
