I came downtown to observe the Friday night chess games at the coffee shop, but no chess players showed up, so, instead, I will regale you, the anonymous reader, with last night’s dream, about which I cannot stop thinking. I’m skeptical and scoff at most dream interpretations (please do not take this as a personal affront if you value them), so I’m not looking for meaning in it. I just want to recount it for you because it’s a story and telling stories is what I used to enjoy very much. I hope to rediscover that joy soon.
The setting was my home, but not my home. It was some fitful amalgamation of disjoint places to which I’ve never been and never hope to go. The mood was full of stress and dread, angry and worried. The house was bustling with my children and too many other people I didn’t know – ostensibly their friends – but no one specific. I was feeling generally invaded and deprived of my rightful privacy, as though I were trying to change underwear or examine some blemish in a delicate location while people kept opening the door and barging in for no good reason.
The first scene of the dream (or at least the earliest I recall) had River late for work. In the dream I felt as though he was being flippant about it and needed to display greater urgency, and I got bizarrely furious over it, to a point that I was roughly manhandling him (something I’ve never done) in an attempt to convey the gravity of his lackadaisical work ethic. It was strange and not at all pleasant.
I don’t remember the segue, but the next and last scene had everyone gone and me in my bedroom, alone and in a foul mood. I was getting dressed for bed when I noticed an odd motion under a towel strewn over a stuffed chair there in my room. Walking over, I removed the towel, and there, lying in the chair, was a strange baby girl. She was tiny, like an infant, but thinner and with long hair and an almost adult face, like some bizarre, baby grown up. I remember that she could talk, but I don’t remember what she said in her oddly grown voice. I remember feeling empathy for her – here where no one knew her and she obviously did not belong – but I also remember this sense that there was something darkly unnatural and even sinister – though not willfully so – about her. For some reason I picked her up and carried her to the hallway, where I turned to look in the mirror. I was immediately struck by something unusual in her reflection. I turned a bit, to change the perspective, but the peculiarity was still there, and the nature of it was specifically this: Her reflection was not in the correct place. It was five or six inches to the left of where it should have been. From my perspective in the dream I could look down in front of me and see her in my arms and I could also see the reflection, and it was shifted. They didn’t match. I remember being overcome with a sense of wrongness about it, and then I awoke.
That’s it. Not my favorite dream, but I cannot stop thinking about it. Odd, don’t you think?
Hello, friends. I hope you’re well.