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Rambling Rooms for the Holidays

July 16th, 2004

This was peculiar dream that seemed to ramble on. My mom and I were
sitting in the attic watching TV. It was as if the attic were the
living room, but still retained its waken state appearance of being
covered in years of dust and decaying plaster. The scene changed and I
was now in the real living room. Someone else and I were lining chairs
up along the walls so there would be enough seating for lots of people.
My grandmother was sitting in my chair–the big chair. She has been
dead for 20 years. I think we were arguing about what to watch on TV.

I then found myself in the dinging room, but it was an odd sort of
combination of the living and dining rooms. It was set up for a big
celebration and the Christmas tree was in there where in actuality I
have a life-sized Santa statue that remains year-round.

Moving off into the kitchen, mom and I were discussing going to the
store before everyone arrived and so she went up to get ready. This
role reversal… I am the one that needs to go up and get ready and she
is the one who is ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I see on the
counter the iced tea jar that we used to brew sun tea but in the water
are only three tea bags, a piece of bacon and an unshelled hard-boiled
egg.

The kitchen is now filled with other people, my brother and his family
and our close family friends, the M’s, and someone else… a man. I
know him, but I don’t know him or can’t see his face. It’s
Thanksgiving, or the night before Thanksgiving, and we are still
discussing going to the store, Wegman’s which is a super huge fantastic
market type of place. Instead of leaving with mom, I get ready to leave
with the strange man, who I feel as my partner/boyfriend or some
combination thereof. As we get ready to leave Ted Allen from ‘Queer
Eye’ pops up and says he’ll go along too. I sigh. He and the other guy
leave while I fight to get my shoes on and grab a bottle of water and a
Frappucino and follow them out the door.

Outside it’s Christmas time. There’s snow on the ground, the house is
lit with Christmas lights and the chimes in the arbor are playing
Christmas carols. The sun is setting and I can tell it is Christmas Eve
by the way the light is shining and the orange-red glow of the sunset,
the likes I have only ever seen on Christmas. I forgot my drinks and
one of the family friends, CM, hands them out to me and I yell in the door,
“Listen! The arbor chimes are playing Joy to the Word.” She looks out
at the car, which in addition to Ted and my faceless boyfriend, are my
nieces and their cousins as well and she says how about drinks for
everyone and hands me a cooler bag.

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A Cauldron of Sweedish Meatballs

July 15th, 2004

This one is sort of roller coaster ride, bouncing all over the place!
As it started, I was sitting at the kitchen table and my mom and
brother came in. I think we were all getting ready to go somewhere and
nieces and sister-in-law were still getting ready. My brother had his
shirt off and he was getting down on the floor and mom was getting
ready to put a fancy comb in his back hair, but then she had to go do
something else and so I had to do it. So I got on top of him and tried
to wrestle it in. The only thing I can relate it to is trying to tie up
a tuft of hair with a bow on wiry dog that doesn’t like having bows in
their hair.

I then found myself upstairs in a house that was sort of a cross
between my brother’s old house and his new one. I had come up the
stairs and was looking for a room to get ready in and one of my nieces
said to use her room because she was done. Something occured here that
I don’t remember. Now I’ve switched to being an observer of what is
going on around me rather than a participant and was in the room in
their old house that I would sleep in on visits. There was a woman at a
big cauldron in the middle of the room. In the cauldron were Sweedish
meatballs and I think there was a little girl there with a bowl and the
woman was filling it more and more saying she was a wicked girl and her
punishment would be determined by the size of the meatballs which kept
getting larger and larger as she filled the bowl.

The image changes and now I’m observing a tribute demand. There are people lined up, perhaps Celts, and Romans were demanding tribute from them. However it wasn’t real, they were just re-enacting. One of the soldiers was Rosie O’Donnell and she demanded payment from a young woman, but she said something, profane I think. Rosie whispered to her that she should spit on her too. And with that Rosie started crying and pouring cream on the woman. In a kitchen that was a combination of my own and one from colonial times, the woman and her mother who I now
know as Weirs from Colonial House discuss that the only way to get the cream out of her hair is using this goo in a nasty looking jar. The mother leads the younger woman over the sink and starts pouring what now is half melted ice cream on her head.

I should note that I’m still watching PBS’ ‘Colonial House,’ had heard on the news that Rosie told President Bush off for his marriage soapbox, watched a documentary on King Arthur and the Romans, and read a chapter of The Mists of Avalon at bedtime in which Morgaine takes Nimue to Avalon and on the road the girl explains to Morgaine how Fr. Griffin had told her she was a wicked girl.

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The Living Room Chair and Hall Talent Show

July 14th, 2004

I was sitting in the big chair in the living room, which was my
father’s chair, in the spot it used to occupy behind the door. The room
looked as it did when I was growing up. It was divided in half
with the sofa in the middle of the room, next to it the big chair and
behind the sofa the desk and hifi. I said to myself, I’m tired of
sitting behind the door (on the hinged side) and pushed the chair to
the other side of the door (knob side). This is in reality where my
father’s chair is now, which is now my chair and where I sit every
night to watch TV. The room is no longer divided in half by the sofa
which many years ago we decided to push up against the back wall to
make the room seem larger.

Anyway, after relocating the chair in my dream, I found myself back in
the old church hall. When I was in school, it was also used as a lunch
room. It’s quite different today as the school closed 20 years ago, but
in this dream, it was exactly like it was 25 years ago–lots of
flourescent lights, but still dark and grey-looking with rows of tables
lined up.

Some of the tables were filled with school children. It was very dark
and gloomy and sort of hazy and all of the people were mostly greyed
out figures. Something was happening where people were showing off
their unusual talents. As I entered, a very old black gentleman was
whistling but the sound coming out of his mouth was that of a horn or
some sort of brass instrument. His face was very round and puffy and
perspired. Suddenly, I seemed to be the only one left standing up at
the piano and trying to figure out what I would do. I thought to sing a
song, which is quite insane since I can’t carry a tune, though am an
accomplished organist.

As I began to play a little tune on the piano (without sheet
music–something I really can’t do) a young girl come from the back and
walked up to me… very gothic looking. She reminded me of the girl
from the ‘Addams Family’ (is it Tuesday or Wednesday? I can never
remember her name). She was carrying dusty old womens’ sandals and I
said to her, “My those are awfully big for you.” She giggled and
replied, “They’re my grandmother’s and they’re too big for her too.”

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The Stopping Off Place (part two)

July 14th, 2004

Read part one of The Stopping Off Place.

I will often have continuing dreams. In some cases after I wake up and
roll over or go to the bathroom and fall back to sleep, a dream will
continue from the point where it had left off before I woke up.
Sometimes, they will continue on a second night, as is the case with
the hotel dream.

It seems to have picked up with all of us in a hotel room, but now the
hotel is different, the room is large and everything is well light and
the color is white and monochromatic. It quickly changes and I find
myself in a room that is much like a schoolroom from my elementary
school years. In this room, there is a woman redecorating and I’m
helping her. I’m not certain if it is Joan Steffan or Candice Olsen
(both from HGTV) or if it is a combination of the two. We discuss the
placement of nick nacks on a glass shelf and she likes my arrangement
better than then whoever had done it before we arrived.

I then find myself decending very large wooden stairs, very much like
the ones from my elementary school, but whereare those were dark, these
were bright. As I went further down the lights were flickering off and
on. I then seem to remember being in a big empty room of some
sort and then am back at the stairs and end up in a warehouse type area
with flickering lights. I try to find my way out amongst the machinery
and try some doors. At thie point I’m seieng myself, but I look like
Emmete from Queer As Folk. I use the metal rings on my messenger back
to test to see if the doorknobs are electrified before trying them. I
then find myself outstide in an abondanded parking lot where no one
should be and I was concerned over being seen there as well as trying
to figure out how to get out. I spot chained off entrance that is big
enough to get through but there are college students milling around on
the street and group of gossip girls. After they pass I slip through
and continue down the street which is just as the street our local
college is on.

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The ‘Stopping Off Place’ Hotel

July 14th, 2004

I’m sort of trying to catch up a little here from a few nights of
dreaming since I decided to start recording my dreams in a blog.

This was a really bizaare dream. My family and I went to stay in a very
fancy hotel. When we got there, I suppose if it were lit and tidy it
would be fancy, but it was very dark and gloomy–downright gothic. In
the dream I recall thinking this is very much like the “Stopping Off
Place” from an episode of Dark Shadows which was a gloomy
Victorianesque type hotel lobby that was basically a waiting place for
people who were on their way to the afterlife.

We all go to the desk and check in and the clerk tells us we’re all in
the same room, 352 or it could’ve been 356. Everyone decides to stay in
the lobby for a drink first except for my sister-in-law and myself. We
decided to venture to the room, but the elevator was old, worn and
dilapidated, so we decided to use the stairs. They too were old and
rickety and narrow and the higher we went the narrower they got. When
we finally reached the third floor, the door had been barred, but
seemed to also have been pried open and there were some kind of warning signs and no lights on on that floor. There were no lights on higher in the stairwell either.

· Read part two of The Stopping Off Place

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Thom Felicia Has a Bath

July 14th, 2004

How odd that I should dream about Thom! I would expect that if I were
to dream about one of the Fab Five, it would be Kyan Douglas, since
he’s the one I have a crush on! Anyway, I think there was a party going
on, or at least just a bunch of family and some friends milling around my
house and I was sitting on the sofa and Thom comes over to me and says
he’s going to go up and take a patchouli bath. I do have and use
ptachouli oil shower gel, but why would Thom come and tell me he was
going to go and have a bath using that sensual oil as if it was the
norm for him to do that in my house and not invite me?

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Welcome!

July 13th, 2004

The Doctors Who It’s my intention that this blog will serve as a medium to transverse the meandering path through the depths of sleep where the magical is the mundane and the fantastical is the ordinary. That said, let’s get right to it!

Several nights ago I had a curious dream that centered around Dr. Who. I had been quite a fan a decade or more ago, but hadn’t thought of this TV show in many years, so this came out of the blue. It was a very odd melding of things. I was more or less a Merlin-type character witnessing some strange ritual in a subterranean chamber. Everyone was dressed in old fashioned clothes… I would venture 17th century (I have been watching Colonial House on PBS). The assembled people were to worship someone, a woman perhaps, but she was a statue that might’ve come to life and became many clones or duplicates.

At that point, law enforcement-types entered and arrested a woman in the back of the crowd for indecent exposure. Not really indecent, she was dressed in 21st century street clothes. I left the crowd and followed up to the surface and egressed from the back stairs of what is the church at which I’m an organist. I continued following, but then someone else was watching the proceedings. I believe it was the Rani, a nemesis of Dr. Who. At that point I give up and go back in the same way I came out of what is now the church, but as I go upstairs this time, I notice a flash of light and that familiar sound of the TARDIS
(Dr. Who’s time machine) materializing, so I go down the steps and end up in what is the hall of church and there two Doctors (the 4th and 5th ones pictured above) are and were crazed and dazed and ran up out into what should’ve been the churchyard, but in the dream was a massive period-style market and disappeared into the crowd. I followed but lost him/them, and met up with one his companions, Nyssa. She told me that the Keeper of Traken had sent her to help someone, but she didn’t know who and I inquired of my good friend the Keeper.

From that point, I’m not entirely sure anymore what was dreamed or what I created in my mind upon waking, continuing the story in my head which had myself and Nyssa head off into the rectory where I (still a Merlin/wizard type person, but seemed to also be the rector) found her suitable clothes as she was still dressed in her native Traken (her planet) clothing. Unlike the real rectory, this one was a huge old elaborate stone building with ornate and detailed dark woodworkings with giant windows, from which she spotted the Doctors down in the market. It has served to inspire a short story that I am in the process of
writing.

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