This morning I was wiping down the kitchen counters, picking up clutter, moving here and there. Isabel was sitting at the dining table eating her cereal. She turned to me and said, “Maybe our dreams are real life, and real life is our dream.” Yes, Isabel. I’ve considered that myself. I love living with a five year old. They get you out of the space of business as usual and remind you of imaginative possibilities.
Last night I dreamed I was in a library with the cop who killed Michael Brown. He was there with his new wife. He and the new wife were giggling in the stacks and making sexual comments to one another about what they wanted to do to each other. Other patrons in the library were making concerned faces, but no one was doing anything. I heard them and went to the librarian to explain what was going on. I told him about the sexual nature of what was being said. The librarian seemed very concerned and told me we needed to go and tell someone about it. We got on our coats to leave and were in a lobby of sorts between the main library and the doors. While there, the librarian groped my breast and tried to grab my body. His was the manner of someone who was used to grabbing women and not getting caught. He seemed almost to be daring me to say something to him about it. I walked away over to some other people to get away from him, and then I woke up.
I had the weirdest dream last night. A woman I know who is my counselor, friend, confidant came over to me to give me a hug, and as she did, I felt something poking me in the groin. I looked down to see that she had a penis. Fully erect, it was prodding me. “Oops,” she said. “He’s a little excited.” This was her response to my discovery that she was a man. I stared at her, incredulous, searching her face for some masculinity, for something I had missed in all the times I had sat with her, poring over my life. Her visage had not changed. She was exactly the same, but then, she wasn’t. She was not the same. I could not wrap my brain around this. She is a man? I also felt betrayed that she had not told me. She had shared with me other aspects of her life that were as intimate, why not this?
I wakened from the dream slowly, existing in that place you do sometimes right on the edge of sleep, meandering between consciousness and unconsciousness. The dream stayed with me all day. I rose and performed the usual morning mundanity, then headed into work where it felt like many others I had to deal with were experiencing inner turmoil or something and wanted to hook me in. I just couldn’t get interested in the drama. I had a hard time focusing on work. I wanted to lie around reading a book. I slogged through the spate of emails, finished up some files, poked around, took a trip to the post office, finished up a few other things, and finally gave up and came home. Now I’m writing this. Not sure why. Not sure to whom. WordPress was open when I turned on my computer so I started typing and this was the result. How profound.
I dreamed I gave birth to a kitten. Giving birth to the kitten was normal. It was black and white. As it tried to nurse I realized that it was not the human I had been expecting. I remembered registering for baby things on Amazon. I realized I would have to tell everyone that I did not need those things because I did not have a baby, I had a cat. I knew why the birth had happened months before it should have, because the kitten’s gestational period was shorter than a baby’s. I missed the baby that was not human. I loved the kitten but was so sad it was not a human with arms and legs.
Damn weird dream.
I have a dream sometimes where I gently poke a hole in my arm and watch the blood slowly leak onto the grass.