Loving a Techie Genius Con Artist

In this dream, the techie man I had been so in love with looked and sounded exactly like Alec Steele, the blacksmith. It was pretty amazing.

I was in some sort of hospital or mall or something; a really big, open-hallway building with lots of halls and stuff. I was just walking along eating some sort of snack when I noticed a group of people to my right, all crowded around something, boycotting it and protesting it and stopping people because they seemed to be associated with...whatever it was. I walked around, acting as if I didn't care either way, when secretly I really loved the thing they were boycotting.

Up in front of me, by the row of glass exit door, was a booth. It was something to do with electronics or computers or tech devices of some sort, and sitting there in a chair was the most handsome man I'd ever seen in my life. I recognized him instantly as some self-made famous hacker or robotics guru or otherwise technological genius who could do anything with a few parts. I'm pretty sure he was involved with whatever the people were protesting, but no one messed with him because he was so high-up and practically untouchable when it came to his involvement. Everyone suspected him, but no one could prove anything. He was gorgeous. Blond, buff but lean, young but within my range. Taller than me (a requirement). I think his name was Alec. That's what we'll call him anyway.

Our eyes met, and his gaze knocked my feet out from under me, head over heels. I think he could tell I was on his side despite my feigned lack of interest in the protested thing, and when I stopped against the wall next to the exit, he walked right past me and got really close, staring into my eyes the entire time he went until he was past. I fangirled so hard in my head, I thought I would visibly shake. Though, to my credit, I didn't. One of the protesters asked if I was all right, and I said yes, I was just having a moment after Alec had walked past me. They seemed to think that I was on their side but shaking with hatred instead of adoration. Maybe I was shaking after all. He heard me mention him and turned his head just enough for me to see the smirk. It was enough to make me melt. It was almost as if we had interacted! He walked around into the bathroom, and a moment later he did the same intense smoldering stare as he walked back to his booth.

After a while of me leaning at the wall and staring at him and him tinkering with his gadgets and looking up at me, he tossed a small bolt or gadget onto his table and walked over again. As he went past, he raised a finger and called me to follow, the slow seductive gesture melting my heart all over again. I followed him right around the corner in front of the bathroom door, where he dug his hands into my hair and kissed me against the wall. Just like that, my addiction was on. It was ecstasy in that brief moment, his hands were warm and comforting and I felt so safe between him and the wall, as if all I needed to survive the rest of my life was to curl up in his arms. It was over almost as soon as it began, but that's all it took. I was like a scrap of metal that had just been magnetized: I needed to be around him, with him, near him. To stare at him if nothing else. To marvel at his glory and feel his presence and aid him in any and all ways he could want or need. He whispered to me, told me to meet him tomorrow at 7:30 and gave me directions through the strange mall hospital building to a particular desk on the other side. I knew of the desk, though I'd never been there, and I was nervous  because I didn't think I'd remember the directions  but I nodded anyway, because I would do anything, so I would try. I would meet him. He smiled and kissed me again before pulling away to the side and walked out from our hidden little alcove by the door. It was like I could feel the life draining away from me as my love went with him. I needed to be with him. Watching him walk away after that was both hard and wonderful. He wanted me. He wanted me.

I managed to find my way and meet him the next day, and life was grand after that. We became an item, an inseparable pair like fire and a forge. He was the passion that kept me going day after day, and together we made great things. He would take me back to his booth, which the sides folded down on to make it a sealed rectangular room. There wasn't much space inside because it was all covered in gadgets and techie toys, but there was a bed and a television. He lowered the roll-down doors on the side and the only light was from the screen. He lifted a stray wire out of the way so I could walk through, almost like opening a door for me. What a gentleman. We crawled onto the bed with a few small electronics around us and curled up together, tight and warm and secure with me against his chest. He kissed me again, and the rest of existence vanished. We were the only two in the world, and it was his world, but I wanted to spend my life there beside him. The safest place I knew was in his arms, and he liked to keep me there.

I started helping out with his jobs. He was always distanced from them, so there were never any ties to himself, and he was always there at his booth out in the open as things happened, nearly always being watched, and never doing anything wrong. A solid alibi by the police themselves. On the current job, the mall was full and busy. Another girl and I had set ourselves up in the bathroom with a small computer and were hacking into some system somewhere. People kept opening the door and coming in though—it was a terrible lock—so my mind was distracted. We got a text to my phone from Alec, warning us to "get out of there!" So we packed it up and rushed out. We passed by some cops along the way back to where we felt safe, but it was too late. I had forgotten my phone in the bathroom with that message right on the lock screen. It didn't say who had sent the message, only that it said it. Everyone knew I was associated with him, so I felt as if I had compromised him after all his work at staying distanced for so long. I made my way back toward the bathroom but didn't even get around the corner before running into a cop who had my phone in his hand. I could see Alec's booth out of the corner of my eye, and I knew he was watching me to see how I handled it.

I pretended to be a ditzy mallrat, seeming surprised that they had my phone and grateful that they had brought it to me. They questioned me, a bit casually, asking what the message was about. I told them it was an inside joke about getting out of the bathroom so he could see me again. I can't tell if they bought it, but I know it wasn't enough for them to get him. Especially since they had no idea what we had been doing in there and since it wasn't really connected to him.

They wouldn't give me my phone, though. They told me I could collect it on my way out later on, and that they were going to finish up their investigation. I had a very bad feeling that if I were to go grab it on my way out, it would somehow be a setup of sorts. Instead of heading toward the exit, I turned a few corners and went down an aisle with lots of racks of clothes hanging on it. At the bottom, half-hidden in the clothes, was the girl I had been in the bathroom with, our computer, and another person. They were hanging up new clothes on the rack while sliding the computer underneath, working and building a cover. The plan was still on, and things were still going. I hadn't screwed it up completely.

After a few hours, we split up and I went back around toward the exit so I could see about getting my phone and getting out. Except...the mall was closed. The doors were locked, all the main shops were sealed, and a security system was on. If I disrupted any of it, the security cameras would swivel around in my direction and start recording. If that happened and I did anything less than the ditzy mallrat I had let myself seem like, it would be a dead giveaway and I'd be an instant suspect. I looked out the doors. It was dark outside, the street only illuminated by streetlights and flashing signs. Alec had wheeled his booth outside (he lived in it, too, most of the time, so he brought it in and out of the mall most days). I could see his booth through the glass of the doors, right across the street beneath a streetlamp, and I could see him tinkering with one of his electronics. I took a moment to stop and stare. What an amazingly handsome, smart, wonderful man. I was absolutely in love and hated the position this put him in.

I picked up my phone, careful to make sure it didn't trigger the cameras. It seemed they wouldn't see me until I attempted the open the door. I could easily have acted my way out of there with my ditzy persona, but the job wasn't finished and I knew it was close. So instead, I called Alec.

I watched through the window as he walked over to his phone, picked it up, and answered. His eyes immediately jolted up to mine, and even across the street our connection was as strong as steel. He told me that he'd assemble a team to come in, finish the job, and get me out.

It didn't take long before three or four people were repelling down from the ceiling and into the mall. Two of them spread out, and Alec himself came running up to me to wrap me in his arms. I was so excited and also terrified. This was the first job he'd ever done that he physically put himself into, right into the thick of it, into the limelight. If we got caught...I tried not to think about it. My part of the job was over, so it was just a matter of waiting for those other three to finish up.

Something was going on outside, and I tried to look out the windows of the door. I don't remember ever touching the door itself, but it didn't take long for me to see the little red light on the security camera. And it was aimed right at me.

I froze. Slowly talking over my shoulder, careful not to move my mouth or head too much, I called for Alec and told him not to move or come near me. I didn't want the camera to know I wasn't alone, if it didn't already know. I asked him what I should do, and after a minute, he told me to act like the ditz I was the day before. So I did.

I instantly jumped into character, and when I finally moved, I lolled my head back and sighed, bringing it back up long enough to roll my eyes and act like I was supremely bored. Behind me, Alex and the others were wrapping it up. Alec shouted that he called in reinforcements to get us out of there, but that he wouldn't go anywhere without me by his side.

The commotion outside picked up, and I finally realized what it was. Cops, swat teams, and the presses had all encircled the building. All but the closest corner. This wasn't my doing, turning on the camera. They activated it manually. I gave up the ditz act and panicked just as a large tank-type truck rolled up at that closest corner, backwards, with the back open up and a man with a gun sitting inside. I was nervous and freaking out, but Alec told me that was his reinforcement. That was our way out. We busted through the glass door from both sides and I was hoisted up into the truck just as cops and such started swarming the building. They didn't even try to grab for me, as they had their sights set on a much more prominent target: Alec.

I cried. I screamed. I shouted. I yelled. I reached out.

Alec told me to go, that he'd catch up to me soon, but I didn't know what to do. The truck started moving but my man wasn't by my side, I couldn't leave him like this! I just couldn't!

I didn't have a choice. Hands held me down and voices assured me in soothing tones that he'd be fine, these were his orders, I was to be taken to safety and he'd be with us soon. I didn't believe a word of it.

But you know what? We finished the job. Alec made it out safely, too. He was waiting for me at the safe house. We couldn't go back to the mall and life as I knew it was over, since he had been compromised and they were after him, but we made it. And now, we were rich. Plus the job had a deeper meaning that had benefited the people of the city as well. It had all been worth it. And I had my Alec, my smart, sexy, genius, loving con artist. We were the only two in the world, and it was his world, but I wanted to spend my life there beside him.

The Other Woman

I was getting Alyssa ready for school with the help of a woman who looked like a cross between Julia Roberts and Jean Gray. The woman kept freaking out, saying, "Everyone's going to know I'm the other woman."

Eventually I took her by the shoulders and grabbed her attention to say, "I was the other woman! When David went to school, I had pushed him out of me (when I had him) but I was the other woman!" Then I looked back to Alyssa and my expression softened and I continued. "Everyone is so excited for her."

We got her shoes on and started to pack her lunch, but all Jean could add was a pack of fruit snacks and all I had grabbed before waking up was a pack of club crackers.

Jungle Business

Okay, so this one is written out really rough right now because it was originally recorded through voice to text and I'm only just now transferring it over. Fair warning.

Another girl and I are going through the jungle. We had to get through dense underbrush, across a river, and up to this really strangely put building. When we went inside the front door, there was a man behind a counter on the opposite side of the room, sitting back in his chair, and he told us that...I think he said Santa Claus would be with us shortly, but he was talking about the man in back.

This businessman comes out from in the back, and I don't remember what we were there for or what he was promising, but he was saying stuff about making us happy in our lives and fixing our problems and making everything okay.

Somehow, we ended up running from this guy. It was like he was trying to kill us. He had this really big sharp knife, and I think at some point we got ahold of some knives as well, and we just really had to get away from this guy. But we weren't alone at that point. I believe there was a third person that we were trying to bring with us, someone who had already been there, someone this man had already been torturing and chopping into. And we grabbed this guy or this person and I think had him on some sort of makeshift stretcher, something that we were using to help carry him along, because I think his leg was broken or really badly cut up.

We're fighting with this businessman as we're making our exit, and the man behind the counter never did or said anything; he just looked up, kind of half-smiled, and then just kept sitting there doing whatever it was he was doing.

So there's this really big knife fight going on: me and this girl against the businessman. We're constantly slashing and reaching our knives out and catching the backs of each other's arms and legs, and I think at one point one of our stomachs even got a knife in it. I remember digging a knife into this man's back but it had the same effect as if it had grazed him—I mean he really just didn't feel it.

But we managed to get a head start away from him, and we're running through this jungle practically carrying this guy with us, and the whole time we just keep looking back over our shoulders. And we can see this businessman coming through the jungle. We get to the river, and this is where we really get held up. There's kind of a raft/boat here, and we manage to get onto it and we're taking these big poles to help push us, but I guess we're not trying to get to the other side, we're trying to get farther up river. But we're fighting all these weird things that keep coming at us, and I'm not really sure exactly what most of it was, but I feel like it may have been stuff like an intense amount of bugs, the businessman may have been in the water, we had trouble actually fighting the current.

To be honest, I don't even remember how it ended. I don't remember how we got away or if we even did get away. I do, however, remember that we were all bleeding a lot; we had a lot of cuts everywhere. The man that we had saved, I don't even know if he was going to live, but we were trying very hard to keep him alive. It really just hurt a lot, we had knife slashes in our skin in places we couldn't even reach.

All in all, it was one of the strangest dreams that I've had yet that actually put me into the story so intensely.

Fancy Sleeper Agent

I kept waking up, but first I dreamed that I was close friends with this random bus driver and his wife. I'm not sure who they were (they weren't our local bus driver family) but I was over at their house for some reason and his wife was being really nice. We made plans to hang out on Monday.

As I was about to leave, the bus driver asked where I was going, and I said, "Well, home, of course."

And he asks, "Whatcha gonna do at home? Crochet?"

And I stopped and we had this huge moment, where I was so excited that he brought up crocheting, and we got to talking and come to find out, HE loves to crochet, too! So we were totally bonding and the whole time I kept being super conscious of my body language just in case his wife was looking out the window. I didn't want her to think it meant anything!

Then I woke up, and next thing I knew I was in this group of friends (I think one of them was literally Chandler from Friends, and Robin from How I Met Your Mother) and we were talking in this really fancy bedroom or library (think, like, a mansion). I can't remember what we were talking about but someone addressed Chandler and he didn't answer, he just stared at the closed door and started moving his hand in the air.

Suddenly, I'm looking through his eyes and the world turns to varying shades of gray and harsh lines, like someone had traced the whole world with an etch-a-sketch. But the lines around the door were all slightly moving, and I'm not sure but I THINK I was seeing the vibrations in the air! And I THINK I (Chandler) was trying to counter the vibrations. Like someone was at the door spying and he was trying to mask our presence. It was super cool, but he failed. He told us all to leave and once we were gone, this spy guy pops up from behind him and they fight.

Cut scene out to the hallway where everyone in the building is heading into the ballroom and dining area. Chandler comes out limping with his pants around his ankles, crying about how his boyfriend wasn't supposed to be like that or something (still trying to remember what he said but it was kind of sitcom-funny). Then James Van Der Beek comes out with a grin, zipping up his pants, and he gives me this huge smile and says some smart comment. I can't remember that either but it made the whole thing comical when in reality it probably wasn't supposed to be. Like the implications of their body language said one thing but their words painted a completely different picture. Someone bumped into me then, and the dream shifted...

***

It was like I was an activated sleeper agent. Everyone was dressed up for this fancy dinner being held by two local royals, a man and a woman (not married). I felt like each aspect of the night belonged to a different time period. Beauty and the Beast-style ballroom, eighties-wedding-style dining area and tables, Glee-classroom-style auditorium. But it all made sense.

I was strolling the room listening to conversations, taking note of small details like disturbed glasses and "how was your meal" suggestion slips. I distinctly overheard people saying they were afraid to be honest about the meal because the man had a habit of hanging people and the woman liked beheading.

I was supposed to infiltrate the main event, which was this entertainment being put on in the classroom. Like a movie set, the back half of the room was enclosed but the front half was wide open and people walked in from the ballroom. The audience was sitting in classroom chairs (plastic seats with metal legs).

There was a pudgy older announcer guy in the main seat and beside him was the guest of honor, a pretty blonde girl from an older century but in half-modern clothing. When she got up to get a drink, I swooped in and stole her seat as if I didn't know it was special and started flirting with the announcer through body language. Crossed legs, paying my full attention to him, fluttering eyelids, eye contact, the whole nine yards. The girl came back but I guess felt too shy or embarrassed to ask for her seat back, so she stayed standing. The announcer nearly tripped over his words because of me, so I think I was succeeding, until they called for volunteers for the show.

Three girls were picked and went up by the piano and they had to sing a verse to this song. The first girl did well, though her mic was quiet. We all clapped and laughed.

The second girl, though, was not prepared to be singing. She was nervous and scared and quiet. But she had a great voice when we got to hear a word or two loud enough. So I clapped for her and cheered her on,  the only person in the room making a sound, and I felt like I was kind of giving away my position and it was a little embarrassing, but I didn't care, because if I could encourage her to have confidence, she would excel. She did get louder and everyone heard how great she was, and they loved her. I was proud.

But the third girl, my goodness. She brought us to tears. She sang a song in a very Glee-style, and it had the word bitch in it like six times...but I think it's a real song. It was powerful and moving. And I woke up when she finished.

Bedding the Yakuza

I was at home, hosting a large group of people from various countries. Many of my guests seemed to have some level of importance in the world, but the one that kept my attention was the yakuza boss.

He was an older gentleman, easily in his fifties, with hard lines across his face that told of the stress and work he had put into the life and status he had built for himself. I can't say he wasn't handsome in his own way, though the thought of having any physical contact had haunted me for the past few hours. But, I knew it was inevitable. It had to happen. Lives depended on it.

I had no knowledge of who I worked for, let alone whose lives were at stake. All I knew for certain was that gaining the yakuza's trust was vital and that the fastest way to a man's heart is between someone else's legs. Today, those legs would have to be mine.

Harmless flirting ensued, carefully concealed among social conversations with other crime syndicate leaders. It was nice not having to hide my constant staring, though I did have to keep my lips curled upward to hide my growing disgust. I'd never had to talk myself into sleeping with someone before, and mentally noting his positive traits wasn't making a difference. His hands looked rough, his eyes looked cold, and his demeanor showed that he wasn't interested anyway.

In some way, I feel like he was told to seduce me as well. The idea rolled around in my head, and I laughed to myself at the thought that we were both talking ourselves into this act of trickery that neither cared for. We might as well have talked to each other and decided on a bunch of facts we'd feel comfortable pretending to have weaseled out of each other just to keep our clothes on. Of course, he never said anything, and I wouldn't either, so the slow dance to the inevitable continued.

When I suggested we retire to my bedroom to relax with a movie, he acted as if he had expected it. He simply nodded and excused himself from everyone else, and he even led me into my own room.

I was terrified.

He removed his jacket and laid down on his side, propping his head in his hand with his elbow. I must have looked more awkward than a literal elephant in a room as I tried to lay down beside him. I shuddered every time my leg brushed the comforter just knowing what I had to do. Finally I crawled up in front of him and laid down the same way, but with my head lying in my elbow instead of propped up. We were still inches apart; I couldn't bring myself to press up against him or even get close enough to touch. My skin crawled, not only with the idea of touching this man but also with the fear that my husband would walk in at any moment. Apparently he wasn't privy to the life-or-death situation. I stared at the TV, wondering if I could just continue with the fake plan of watching a movie and perhaps even find a more innocent position should someone stumble into the room and catch us alone.

My thoughts were interrupted when the yakuza boss rose from the bed and rushed out the door. I was alarmed, for sure, but I was also immensely relieved. He came back in carrying a cup of water, in a slightly less rush, and rummaged through a black bag on my dresser. Pulling out a small pill bottle, he removed a few and popped them into his mouth, chasing them with the water.

My heart and mind raced to conclusions, reaching the same one at the same time. Did he just take a Viagra? Is he preparing for this to actually happen? How long do those pills take to kick in, how long do they last for, and is he expecting to enact this for the entire duration? What did I get myself into?!

My face must have revealed my worries, because he held up a hand and tilted his head, as if putting me at ease. "No," he explained, "this is not what you think it is."

And it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. Apparently, as he showed me, it was a stool softener his doctor had prescribed him because his stomach had been hurting lately.

I'm not sure if I was more embarrassed for him for having to tell a stranger about his bowel issues, or for me for the fact that I had brought him into my bedroom when he would have preferred to be in my bathroom, or perhaps for the both of us for letting it get as far as it had. Either way, I was grateful that my legs were not the path to his heart today after all, and with so much mystery gone between us already, I doubted it would ever lead to his heart. Someone else would have to seduce him now, and I couldn't help but giggle with relief.

But, donkey, where are your legs?

This one was quite simple and quick, actually. My husband and I were visiting this pet store (what is it with me and pet stores in my dreams?) but the store also happened to be the owner's house. More like a mansion, really, but filled with tanks and aquariums and wandering animals.

I'm not sure what we were there for, but we had our eye on these two donkeys hanging out around the sweeping staircases in the center of the home.

But not just any donkeys.

No, these two each only had two legs: one in the front and one in the back. How did they walk? How did they stand? How were they even still alive? Who knows. Dream logic strikes again. Either way, we stood there for a while, watching these two donkeys hobble around, until I finally commented on it.

"Well, honey, they look pretty good to me. What do you think?"

"They look pretty healthy. Let's get them."

. . . . . .

...what the what?

Put It Through Hell

The third dream of the evening. It actually seemed to be a flashback of the first dream, taking place during the family gathering. It was just completely independent of the events of that first one.

I was sitting down talking with the family, and Mike and his mom were discussing cooking. She was laughing, saying, "Man! My husband can't cook at all. He can't even boil water right!"

To which Mike replies, "Well, sometimes with the ones we love, their flaws are the things we love the most. They make us love them more. For example, I mean, I seem to recall somebody trying to burn our house down boiling water."

I instantly divert my full attention to the conversation. "Oh, hell no. Please do not tell this story."

He just laughs and continues telling the story that he tells over and over about the time I tried to boil eggs and ended up forgetting them on the stove. Hours later we come home and the house is full of smoke, the smoke detector is going off, the propane burner on the stove is still turned on, and the pot is still sitting on the burner, but it's completely bone-dry. The inside of the pot is black and there are bits of charred egg not only in the pot but all over the kitchen. They had completely exploded.

He turned off the breakers just in case (before we knew it wasn't an electrical fire), I turned off the stove (once I found it on), we opened all the doors and windows and started clearing the house out...but it was only after the smoke had cleared somewhat that we realized the smoke killed my bird. Literally, smoke inhalation was the cause of death of my favorite cockatiel. (We buried her an hour or so later in the front yard, though I'm not sure if she's even still there anymore since the cats and dogs love to dig.)

But, he was telling this story in the dream and I was fighting him along the way, because I hate when he tells the story; it makes me look stupid and forgetful. In my defense, I was pregnant at the time, and you know you don't really have all your brain cells at that point. In the dream, of course, I was kind of laughing as I told him to stop, so I wasn't completely serious. I guess I was just embarrassed.

I remember asking, "Why do you love to tell that story so much? It makes me look stupid. How did that make you love me more?"

This is where he came in with something completely profound, and I wasn't expecting it out of him. He says, "The things we love people for are not the things they're best at, but the things they mess up. We love people for their mistakes and their flaws, because they are challenges and hardships we work through together, and that brings us closer. It's like making a sword. You don't harden your metal with flowers and candy. You forge it in fire and beat it with a hammer and put it through hell. That is how you make something stronger. And it's the same with relationships. It's the hard things that make it what it is, that make it last."

And I just thought that line about forging needs to be in a book somewhere because it's beautiful.

Unrealistic Property Lines

Mike and I were going camping down by the lake. It was our lake, but for some reason it was massively huge and there were islands in the middle of it. I thought that was very strange, because they were HUGE islands, so our lake must have literally been gigantic.

Anyway, we were down by the lake and we were on the back side, up the bank a little ways, and we had a lot of trees around our little clearing. There was a kind of lean-to under the trees; I'm not sure what it was made of, but it appeared to be constructed between a small cavern of tree roots and wrapped in thick canvas. The front entrance was open save for some tree limbs that reached down over it, so it didn't exactly have any real privacy. If anyone were directly in front of our entrance, they could see right in. It was only private from the other angles.

So we're in this little lean-to, and we have a bunch of camping supplies with us to last the night. Mike suggests we take advantage of our alone time (wink wink) and at first I was hesitant (outside, in the dirt, under a tree, with a wide-open doorway? Umm...) but as it turns out, my delayed response worked out for the best. A few minutes later, a giant ship flew overhead. When I say giant, I mean something out of Star Wars (I actually think we might have these in real life, too, though). It was one of those triangular ships with a top fin that sticks straight up and the two wings can fold up to the top when it lands.

This giant ship flies directly over us, very low to the tree tops, and lands on the largest island on the lake. It's really close enough to paddle a boat to in just a few minutes, that's how close it is. I was getting worried about it, but Mike said, "It's okay, it's pretty far away," But then a second one came and landed in the mud on the bank next to us, just a few trees away. I'm freaking out, saying things like, "Oh my God, they're on our property! What the hell is going on here?" I was very grateful that  most of clothes were still on (nothing "revealing" had come off). I put my pants on and climbed out of the lean-to behind Mike.

He walks up to the men coming off the ship that landed on the bank to tell them they're on the wrong property, and my paranoia is going haywire imagining us being killed for "seeing too much." It had a very "high-level military" feel. But they just referred us to the overseer of it all, so we got into a small boat and crossed over to the island. Once there, we went to a small building where the overseer was said to be waiting for us.

This guy was a tall, light-skinned black man with a shiny bald head, very similar to the man on the TV show Scrubs. He was leaning back in a reclining couch when we walked in, yelling at a guy for touching him. "Stay away from me! Don't touch me! You know the rules!"

Mike tried to talk to him and get his attention, but the overseer refused to listen. Mike tried to tell him, "Hey, man, you know you're on our property? What's going on here?" but he wouldn't have it.

"Stay away from me! I don't know who you are! Don't touch me, don't come near me, get away from me! Security!"

Finally I got fed up with it all. Fuck this, I thought, and I walked right up to the guy and shoved my hand in his face, as if to shake his hand. "Good evening, SIR," I said very pointedly, "I'm going to have to ask you to get your ships off my property."

At first the guy kind of leaned away from me, but I guess I was exuding enough confidence, because he actually acknowledged my existence and shook my hand briefly. "Okay, so this is your place here? I don't think we're on your property, but we can check the property lines and we'll figure out how to situate this so that everybody's happy."

I was fine with that, because I was pretty sure I knew where our property lines were. I was fairly certain at that point that we had actually leased out the islands for their use, but that the far bank was ours.

My view changes to a bunch of different maps; GPS maps, Google maps, hand-drawn maps, etc. All kinds of amazing maps. They each show the lake coming into view or being drawn out, starting close up and panning back, showing dotted lines for the property lines and circles around the islands to show where it was his, but then...it showed a section of the bank being cut out to indicate it was also on his side.

I wasn't sure where along the bank we had been camping; I had been pretty positive we were on our own property at the time, but seeing that part of the bank cut off really dug into my confidence, because it made me worried that I had confronted somebody when I was wrong, which is a huge fear of mine. But that's where it ended.

Just Come Home

In the first dream of the night, my family and I were all sitting in a quaint little house, the whole family shoved inside—brothers, sisters, mothers, grandparents, etc. I sat with my husband and mother-in-law, talking about their lives. Nothing major. Mom, of course, was talking about moving back to her house, though none of us seemed to think she would.

At the next table over, my sister-in-law Danielle was telling her younger sister, Jessie, that she had dropped out of college. It was one of those world-stopping lines that seemed short and harmless enough until the brunt of the meaning hit you. I stopped listening to Mom and my hubby to pay attention to the details Danielle was about to disclose.

She went on to say that her kids were growing up in front of her eyes and she was never there to see it. She was missing out on school events and hobbies and fun stuff, and school was taking up so much time that she just didn't want to miss anymore. So she changed her mind, dropped out, and said she was going to try again in a few years when her kids weren't so busy or so active; when they were old enough that they didn't need her as much.

Mom couldn't believe that she would drop out (apparently she was listening, too), but we all understood her reasons. She had to do it.

I don't remember what else happened during the gathering, but at the end of the night, Mom was crying. She said she just wanted to come home, and that she was tired. I remember very vividly putting a hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes, and saying, "Just come home."



I guess the point of this was that you have to do what you have to do, even if it's not what you want to do, and that sometimes, people believe in you and push you to achieve your dreams, because the only one holding you back might just be yourself.

The Apocalypse that Wasn't

I don't remember why the world should have ended, but the whole group of us knew it wouldn't be worth living in. There were at least eight of us, and we were all huddled together in this small room. In the center sat a collection of black boxes, the largest of which had a red segmented display counting down from ten minutes. I looked at those numbers and I knew this was it. The world was ending...my world was ending, at least.

My husband hadn't noticed the countdown yet. For the first half of the timer, he stood against a wall talking to one of the guys about something in a book or magazine. The timer was already nearing the four-minute mark when he pushed away from the wall and came to wrap his arms around me. When he did finally notice the bomb, he said it very casually, as if he had instantly accepted that we would die there, two minutes from that moment. Or maybe he only accepted it because I seemed to have already.

He held me tighter and I pressed my cheek into his chest, tears streaming down my face. I began babbling, clearly not ready to die. I remember saying, "There's still so much I haven't done yet." I looked up into his eyes, the timer ticking away beside us, and told him, "I'd rather spend a lifetime of uncertainty fighting to be by your side than only two minutes of surety, knowing we'll die together."

In the last thirty seconds, we ran. We couldn't take it, we needed to try. We locked hnds, the two of us, and we ran. We made it into the next room and dove down to the floor beside a bed just as the bomb went off. Miraculously, the explosion had stayed contained to the room. Horrifyingly, on the other hand, all it had done was mangle our friends. They were nothing but piles of limbs and bloodied torsos. We crawled around to the other side of the mattress and covered ourselves in pillows and sat there for a while, just in case something else would happen or there would be another explosion. We were happy though, because whatever came next, we would be together to figure it out. And we would be alive.

Mike and Roger

In my dream last night, I found myself torn between two people. Two men who both seemed to want me but who were very different people.

They were both very handsome and kind. On the one hand, I had Mike. He and I ended up in the same apartment somehow and I offered to help with some things, cleaning and such, and after joking and laughing he asked if I was interested in going out. I thought he was extremely handsome and fun and of course I said yes. I feel like 90% of our conversations were perverted or sexual and kept light. Nothing deep, no long conversations. It was nice to feel connected but detached. I felt free. I also felt like it was a waste of time and I was constantly nervous because I didn't feel like he really wanted to be with me, and wasn't sure why he even asked.

At one point we had to take out the trash (it was a lot). We were staying by the beach and we looked over the balcony to see if there was a good place to burn the trash and one of the neighbors looked over at us and commented how he had just burned his trash earlier and pointed out a good place. We went back to the apartment to get it but I said I needed to change first. While I was in the bathroom changing, a stranger came to the door and was teasing me, saying that he knew I was 'having fun' in there because he could see my feet under the door and he knew I wasn't dressed yet. I played it up and took a while longer to get dressed, until the guy had left a few minutes later. Finally, I came out and went to the beach where Mike was. I told him about the guy and we laughed about the joke, about what he had thought I was doing.

When we left the beach and went back inside, friends started coming over. We were having a party. By some miracle, every time he would do something he would ask me to join in. He'd put his arms around me or he'd corner me against a wall and press himself up against me and ask if I wanted a drink or if I wanted to 'make some' (I had no idea what he meant by that but his eyes were seductive and I instantly said yes). At some point though, another guy came up to me.

I don't remember his name, just that I called him Roger. I don't think that was his real name, but the two of us had played a game where we make up names and he had ended up with Roger. He was really sweet and directed all his attention to me every time we talked. He seemed genuinely interested in me. He looked like Mike crossed with BJ Novak. We laughed about his crazy ex who would write on his windows about how she couldn't connect to his WiFi or something. It didn't register until later that he had been warning me that she would do that if she saw me, because he was interested. This guy really stole my heart, but Mike had my body. At least, he had it if he wanted it. Throughout the entire dream, Mike never even kissed me. It was like he claimed me because he wanted to, but I was just a puppy following her master.

A girl had gone up to Mike and hit on him, and I heard him invite her along and flirt with her. I was a tiny bit jealous, but the overwhelming emotion I had was one of not caring. It was like somehow I knew we weren't exclusive or something. I wanted to be, but if we weren't I couldn't force him to be. I think I knew that it just wasn't serious. So I turned back to Roger and we laughed and talked. People were getting ready to head out to go do whatever it was Mike had asked me to do, when Roger asked me if I wanted to stay and watch a movie or something. He may have even just outright asked me out. I don't seem to remember exactly what he had asked. But I know I was torn.

My options were Roger, this sweet guy I really connected with, or Mike, this fun, hot guy I lusted after. I wanted to stay with Roger but had already committed in some way to Mike. I felt giddy and excited about spending time with Roger, yet I had a loyalty and real want to also be beside Mike. Mike had brought me into his world and made me a part of it. I clung to a gift from him (a piece of sausage I think?) debating. I really did like Mike. I didn't want to lose him.

I knew both guys were waiting on me, and I found them in the bedroom, which was dark, both sitting/laying on a large bed. I stood between them at the foot of the bed and just broke. I said I couldn't decide between them. They were both awesome but any decision I made would hurt one of them more than likely, so I didn't choose. I laid down between them and stared at the ceiling.

Mike spoke up. He sat up and was working on his laptop, and said it wasn't a big deal. He said he was just gonna pull out of the choice to make it easier. Without ever looking at me, he said, "We have the book anyway." On his screen was the cover image of my children's book he was illustrating for me. I was grateful not to have to choose on my own, though I knew that was the choice I would have made anyway, and it did feel better knowing it was his choice so I felt like I hadn't really hurt him. I could tell by the vibe I got that he really was upset though, like he felt that things always happened this way for him. He was putting on this unfeeling front but inside he was hurt. In truth I was hurt too. I felt like he had never really cared, that I was just a toy he was done with, though I knew that wasn't true because we had never done anything.

Roger had been silent during that, and finally I looked into his eyes. He seemed very patient, like he was waiting for me to affirm that I chose him. I told him how he made me feel, and how Mike and I, we were friends. All we had really done was took out the trash. (To which Mike laughed, but it was true.) But Roger and I, we had taken out the past. We had talked about who we were and who we wanted to be. We connected. Roger and I got lost in each other for a few minutes, during which time Mike left to go with his friends.

We went to the living room, which was lit up, and Roger took his place on the couch. We both seemed happy. I was in a recliner. He told me he had a last name now (in our name game, he had never chosen a last name). He said what it was (I didn't hear it) then said Junior. I laughed and teased him about being a Junior, and moved over closer to sit beside him on the couch. He looked into my eyes and I felt that spark, that feeling that said I was where I was supposed to be, and he leaned over and kissed me.

It was amazing. Hours seemed to pass in those few seconds, and though only our lips touched, I felt like we were closer than I'd ever been to a person. When we finally separated he didn't even move. He looked lost in a daze, and all he could say was, "Wow." It was more like he had breathed it, it was barely audible. I told him I was sorry I didn't have more to offer, and he told me not to worry about it. He had everything we would need and he would take care of me now that I was by his side. I woke up as the dream version of me curled up to fall asleep in his arms.

The Child of 551 and Tipper

551 and Tipper.
That's where it happened.

I think I visited the past or a memory. At some point, I remember seeing a father with his baby, who was considered to be a special needs child, alone without the mother. Somehow, I knew she had passed away. It was sad to see a broken family but I was glad the father had stayed with his child despite the additional hardships that his condition surely brought about.

Then I was back in the past. We were in a car. The father was driving, I was lying in the seat behind his. I'm not sure how I had room to lie down but somehow I did. The mother was in the passenger seat and had the back of the seat fully reclined into a makeshift bed. She was still in a hospital gown and had a thick sheet over her lower half, much the same as the kind they have in hospitals. The baby was bundled up and lying on top of the center console, which was a large flat rectangle. It clearly wasn't safe to be driving that way, but no one thought anything of it.

I looked at the baby and he looked back at me. He was barely a few days old. One of his eyes was a bit larger than the other; not enough to cause any mental issues but enough to be considered a deformation. He was a cute baby though.

The mom was exhausted. She was lying in  her chair, staring at her baby, with lightly-curled strands of her black hair fallen in front of her face. Without thinking about it, I reached forward and brushed her hair to the side so she could see more clearly.

I looked back to the baby, and the mother finally spoke. She was teasing me, asking if I wanted to feed the baby. She sounded as if the two of us had been the best of friends. I laughed, and I told her I was probably dried up with as old as my own kids were. My daughter was almost two, so she had stopped feeding months ago.

The mom smiled and eased herself up a bit to take her baby. Time seemed to pass quickly here, and the next thing I knew she was putting the baby back on the center console. I think she fed him, but I didn't get to see that part.

But as she set him back, her grasp of his blankets slipped a bit. The baby missed the console and hit the front edge of the passenger seat, by her feet, before falling to the passenger floorboard.

I jumped up and grabbed the baby to make sure he was okay. He seemed fine; his blankets must have kept him protected from the fall. I looked to the parents to see if either of them had freaked out too. The mother was trying to lay back down. I don't think she was even aware of the fact that her baby had fallen. But when I looked to the father...he didn't react the way I expected him to, the way the man I had seen before, holding his child, would have reacted. I knew he was driving, so he couldn't just jump over to grab his son, but he looked so casual. Like he was watching me collect his child as if it had been my purse that had fallen. As if I were just picking up the spilled contents of a sack of leather. He had no attachment, no worry, no care. That bothered me.

I laid the child back in his place on the center console, making sure he was okay and that he was safe. I was about to turn to the father to scold him about his lack of caring when the mother made a sound. It was something like a cross between a moan and a gasp, and it didn't sound good.

I turned to look at her. She was sitting up slightly, leaning back. Her gaze was out of focus and her shoulders weaved back and forth slightly, like she didn't have balance or control. She whispered, "Please call nine-one-one...and tell them...I'm bleeding." Then she pulled her right hand out from beneath the sheet. It was soaked—coated entirely—in dark blood. The color is what really stuck with me. It wasn't bright red, like fresh blood, nor was it thin or aqueous. It was thick and congealed, with a mucus-like texture that spread between her fingers. It was a dark, mauve-like purple with brown, like old blood, bad blood, but it shone black. It ran down her fingers, over her wrist, and began oozing down her arm. There was so much of it. So much blood. Bad blood.

I screeched at the husband to stop the car, and I could feel his panic. At least he had emotions, that was something. I pulled out my cell phone at stared at the screen, but for a moment I was frozen. I knew I needed to dial a number but for the life of me I couldn't remember how to access the phone itself. I knew this was it. This was how she died. What could I do to save her? Could I save her? I only paused for a moment before it clicked into place and I brought up the keypad, carefully dialing the right numbers and hitting the button to call. The car stopped and I leapt across the mother and out the passenger door, away from traffic.

As I waited for the operator to answer my call, I saw myself standing there. The whole world was a stage, and the spotlight was on us. Only the car, the intersection, and myself were visible beneath the glow of a nearby street light. Like an old-fashioned movie, everything seemed to be black/brown, with the night closing in around us. The hazy light was a brownish yellow and I could see mist or fog in the air. No other cars were moving, nor could I see them anyway, but I felt their presence. But it didn't matter, because in that moment, all that existed was a dying mother who wouldn't be able to care for the child she loved, the child who needed her, and the father couldn't care less. He seemed worried for his wife, but I don't even know if he acknowledged that he even had a child.

They finally answered the phone, and I rambled on for help. I told them about the mother, I begged them to send an ambulance. They asked me where we were. The sign in front of me by the side of the road wasn't helpful. It listed all the upcoming stops and roads we were nearing for future exits, but they didn't tell me where we were. I shouted into the car, asking the husband, "Is this the interstate? Are we on the interstate? Where are we? Tell me, damnit! Where are we?!" He seemed shaken at my outburst. He looks up at the traffic light and says, "551."

I glance up at the traffic light. Suspended in the air in the center of the intersection were the street signs—why didn't I see those before? The road we were on was 551, and the cross street was Tipper. 551 and Tipper. For a moment, I could see the other cars at the intersection. They were older cars, 80s or older. They were all stopped at the intersection as if every single lane was at a red light. The driver closest to our car was the only one clearly visible, but he looked at me like I was crazy for asking which street we were on when it was clearly labeled in the center of the road. I was embarrassed, but I didn't say a word or acknowledge them. I was distressed, surely they could forgive my oversight.

The woman on the other end of the line assured me the ambulance was on its way, and time leapt forward. I didn't have time to worry, because before I could blink, the ambulance was there.

Reality blurs here, as the medics prep her and remove her from the car, transferring her to the ambulance. That was the last time I saw her. I was holding the baby now, though his blankets were messed up. The world spun and shook, and the gray-brown of the intersection became white. We were in a room. It looked kind of like a hospital room, like a small room at a doctor's office. I stood to one side, leaning against a counter. A female police officer or detective—not sure why she was there—was helping me get some last-minute things together and closing out the room. She seemed sympathetic, though I wasn't sure if she felt bad for the baby for losing his mother or if she felt bad for me, the stranger who now had the baby.

I tried to talk to the officer, to get her to understand that although I wanted to see the baby safe and sound and with his family, I wasn't related and I'm not even sure how I knew the parents. The phone on the wall rang, and the officer held up a finger to silence me as she conversed with whoever had called.

After a few minutes, discussions of work must have trailed off because the officer was talking about going for drinks and hanging out later in the night. She was talking about how she was just getting off work now and she'd be there soon, wherever 'there' was. When she hung up, she glanced around the room and said that it looked like I had everything under control.

I immediately voiced that I didn't. I didn't have anything under control. I looked around the room and noted umbrellas, shoes, blankets, and my own daughter curled up on the floor by the door, asleep. I told the officer that the baby was cold and his blankets were messed up, and on top of all that I had to get the baby and all the things in the room out to my truck, and I had three kids of my own to handle, I couldn't do it all by myself. Reluctantly, the officer began helping me to fold up some of the baby's blankets so we could wrap him. The blanket was huge though, and it took both of  us to fold it. The officer was only half-attentive to what she was doing; I could tell her mind was counting the seconds that ticked past her final hour of the work day. I almost felt bad for making her work overtime, but I was really only asking for a few minutes, for a little help. Where was her sense of compassion?

We finally folded the blanket, and I set the baby down to arrange the blanket in my arms so we could wrap him—an odd method, I know. The officer set the baby down in my arms but wasn't even paying attention to exactly where my arms were. He nearly slipped, but I caught him and adjusted my grasp to keep him secure. I threw a frustrated glance at the officer, but she had already turned to pick up some of the shoes and umbrellas. Bit by bit, everything got moved to the truck. My boys were already out there, and I had set the baby down in the truck, so I just had to get my daughter and make sure the room was clear. As we walked down the hall way just outside the room, I realized the walls were lined with rows of baby clothes.

The officer was holding up some of the outfits and showing me how cute they were. They were so small. When I noted that, she told me that everything here was for the preemies. The tiny babies who were too small to wear anything aside from doll's clothes. It made me immeasurably sad. I couldn't even look at the clothes, because I could only think of the parents whose babies didn't make it, which then reminded me of the babies whose parents didn't make it, like the little infant boy I now had to care for.

Everything finally made it into my truck, and the officer vanished. It was just me, my three children, and the baby whose only loving parent had been lost. The father had disappeared.

I wondered why things had worked out so differently than the way they had been before. Before, the father had held his son. I thought he had loved him. Did he, really? Or had he wished for a way out? When we relived the past and I had been present for it, was that all the reason he had needed to leave the child behind? Would he ever come back for his son? I had so many questions.

All I knew for sure, looking down at that child, was that I'd raise him as my own. I'd love him, because he'd need me. Because he deserved it. Because she'd want me to.

The Blonde and Rumplefoodkin

I woke up next to girl. It was dark, and the bed was in a wide, dark studio. The head of the bed was up against a thick beam or pipe, there was a soft yellow light coming from somewhere in the room, and toward the foot of the bed was a hallway with a bathroom.

The girl was venting, commenting about her boyfriend. She was upset because they wanted different things in their relationship, one of them to get married but the other didn't and she wanted to feel alive again. She mentioned how she never gets to leave the house. She is sitting up at this point and is very beautiful. A thick head of bouncy blonde curls. Small nose. Green-blue eyes. Freckles everywhere.

I wanted to make her feel better, so I sit up as well and tell her that I know the feeling. I think back for something to say to bond with her, to connect over. I mention that when I was pregnant with each of my kids, I never got out of the house or went anywhere either. As I'm saying this, I look up and my husband is right there, coming out of the bathroom all dressed for work, still rummaging around for his work things. She accepts this and vents again about her boyfriend and how confusing he is and that she's not sure what to do next.

She turns to me and asks if I'm gay. It catches me off guard, because surely she sees my husband in front of us? Then again, I'm in bed with her. I deny it with a laugh, but then I toss in "sometimes." I can't look straight at her because I feel awkward and embarrassed and pretty certain I've just said more than I needed to. I repeat "sometimes" while turning deep red. Looking past her, I see a metal ladder, maybe pipe? It feels out of place.

Hubby comes back into the room and starts telling me what he is going to do that day. He points beyond the head of the bed, saying he's going to get his truck or bobcat out of the lot. I turn around to see that the pole the bed is up against is actually a power pole, and the entire bed is outside!

I warn him that he's gonna get stuck if he's not careful. He said, "Nah, I'll be fine." But I look around and it's beginning to snow. The flakes are large and beautiful. Even as they land to blend in among each other, I can tell they are each unique and special. I tell him he might not think he'll get stuck, but in all this snow, he might.

The snow fascinates me. I want to play and enjoy it. I throw off the covers and leap out of bed (much to the amusement of the woman—she sees that I'm only wearing a thin shirt and very short shorts). I run around the snow, laughing and having fun, and I want to see it closer. I lean forward to examine the snowflakes. Rather than me getting closer, the flakes grow larger. They get about two feet across, and they're extremely detailed and beautiful. I pick one up and hold it in my hands. I can barely feel the cold at all. I'm not sure if it's melting in my fingers or not yet...it should...but just in case, I take a huge bite out of it at the top. It's amazing. It's like thin ice, but with the texture of a snow cone. It melts in my mouth and I love it. That's the last I see of the snow, though.

I go inside. Hubby is working (and I believe he got out just fine without getting really stuck) and there are two women inside. One is my sister in law. We're watching the kids and talking, and someone mentions food. I think I described the snowflake and eating it. My sister in law says something about 'Rumplefoodkin.'

I think that's hilarious and adorable. I comment, "Ha! Rumplestiltskin with food, I love it!" and I continue on about how I'd love to meet him, all his magic creates food and it's just him with lots of food. I try to imagine if all that food would have made him fat, but I can't picture him any different than the tall, thin, gorgeous, golden dark one. Then she says, "I don't know who that is." And I'm confused (and kind of laughing though) because she was the one who said his name in the first place.

I woke up (for real this time) dreaming of Rumplefoodkin.

Thrown to the Wolves

It began at a fish store.

I know that sounds odd, because it seems that quite a few of my dreams take place inside a fish store. But I can't control it; there we were.

When I say 'we' I'm referring to my best friend and I. We were in this fish store, separately; she was off somewhere else in the store and I was along the northern wall on the left-hand side of the store. I was browsing through the tanks when I came upon a baby beaver. It was caged much like a small turtle might be, in a terrarium with equal measure land and water. The poor little thing was no bigger than my fist, but was fully-formed and was, in fact, a miniature version of a fully-grown beaver.

There was a man beside me, also browsing, also happening upon this beaver, and a conversation started. I can't say what we talked about since I really don't know, but an announcement went over the loudspeaker during the chat, calling me to the back room, where my friend awaited me. This man was very polite, handsome, friendly, kind; I felt bad that I had to leave. I told him I'd be back, and he offered this: "I'll be right here waiting. Right at the beaver. If you come back before the store closes tonight, I'll know it's meant to be." Though he didn't kiss me then, I could tell he wanted to—that he felt the same internal struggle I experienced. In a very awkward manner, we said our goodbyes and I left.

The store, for whatever reason, was split down the center into two halves. The left-most half was a fish store with the rows being very much like any typical retail chain, whereas the right-most half seemed more a club or a popular hangout spot. I can't actually say what a club looks like, I've never been. But by the Hollywood definition, it fit the bill. I met up with my friend and we talked and talked...she was so beautiful and yet she could talk you into an early grave if given half the chance. Quite the chatterbox. Anyway, the conversation reached its peak and, though I have no idea what we decided on, I agreed and went outside to my car, where I proceeded to put on my jacket. Or perhaps take it off; I distinctly recall balling up my jacket and throwing it into the backseat, but it's unclear whether I did this on this particular trip to the car or during the next one, when we left. Oh well. I did something with my jacket.

I re-entered the store, and searched through the aisles, particularly the northern wall on the left-hand side, but my knight-in-shining-smiles was nowhere to be found. I kept a smile on my face, but when I told my friend he was missing, she saw the tears in my eyes.

We went about our business—whatever that means—until nearly closing time. As I was making my way to the door once again, an employee happened to mention that there was a man sleeping in one of the aisles, on one of the lower shelves, in fact. I inquired as to where and they told me...it was the northern wall! On the left-hand side! That must have been him, clearly, but they gave me his name, since apparently they did know who he was, so I assume he actually did this quite often...and I'm rambling. I did seem to know the name, and I had a face that went with that name in my head, so when the man walked up to me, he was not the same man I had fallen for earlier that day. He was someone else, someone I was not attracted to. I nodded politely and dismissed him, and he acted as if I too was not the girl he had fallen for earlier that day. We were two different people, and why? Because it had not been in the fairytale setting by the beaver cage? Or because life had gotten in the way? Or because our vision is jaded by the sweeping romance of a lustful relationship?

Either way, the man was now gone and the beaver remained unpurchased. I gossiped about the incident to my best friend when I went back to her location on the right-hand side of the store, until it was whispered that the man I had grown fond of and the man I had dismissed were not actually the same person; they were, somehow, the same entity, yet two separate beings. I had fallen for one-half of a man, and he was beautiful. I glanced across the store. As it were, we were against the northern wall, and the stars aligned just right for me to have a clear view all the way to the left-hand side of the store, to the beaver tank, and there he stood.

I got excited to see my prince again, and rushed to leave, ready to go home—a mere cover story to give me the chance to pass by the beaver tank one last time. I didn't want to get my hopes up that it really was him, but I didn't want to miss the chance to see him again, either.

There he stood, speaking softly through the glass, whispering to the tiny animal how (most likely) he was going to set it free one day. How he'd save it from captivity and from the eyes of the onlookers. I can only assume that's what he was saying, but he was just that sort of man, you know? Adorable.

My best friend tugged at my jacket—ah, there it is...I still had it on—and she called me away. I longed for the man but I knew it was futile. Even if we met again, what would I say? What would we do? We'd just end up drifting apart and the whirlwind romance would be gone. It was too great a memory to let it disintegrate, so I conceded to my friend and we left. In very much a fairytale fashion, I tossed one last glance his way while walking out the door, and he looked up. Our eyes met, the sadness in mine reflecting back at me in his, and I knew it was over. Would he search for me, like a prince searching for the damsel in distress? Was I a damsel in distress who needed finding? So many questions arose in that glance.

My friend and I went back to my car, which in itself was an oddity in the strangeness of the dream world. It was here that I balled up my jacket and tossed it into the backseat...not just a normal toss, mind you, but I threw it through the space where the front windshield should have been, past the front seats, and into the recess which appeared to be the backseat. Everything was slightly off-white and nothing looked comfortable. I think the car was a convertible, but by that I mostly mean to say there were no windows; there were spaces for windows and a windshield, but the glass wasn't there.

We climbed into the seats and began to drive. To where, I do not know.

***

The weather seemed to be deteriorating quickly; what started as a clear afternoon became a windy morning (yes, time works differently in dreams) and although it didn't physically snow, there was snow on the ground. The car slid a few times on the icy road, and when it hadn't slipped in a while we thought we were safe. We were wrong.

One final patch of ice got us, and the car slid off into the ditch. We were right behind the corner of a building—not a full building that I ever saw, just the soft, yellowed corner—and in what I assume was a result of the accident, I couldn't move. I was lying there across the front seat (and yet somehow also across the hood of the car, though I was lying quite flat and parallel to the ground) and my best friend was lying to my left, which was also behind me, from the way I was spread out, mostly on my stomach but propped on my left side.

Time went by; it felt quick but I knew it to be longer. My best friend didn't have the problem I had with moving, and she was able to stand and stretch her legs. She said she would go get help, and for a minute I thought it was a great idea...until we heard them.

Wolves. In the distance, I could see their shapes moving against the snow. They were hard to make out and even harder to track, but I knew they were getting closer. My friend, she said, "I'll go get help. Stay here." I tried to warn her, tried to plead with her to stay, but she didn't seem to hear me. She left, and they made their move. She had barely rounded the corner out of view when she screamed. I knew they had gotten her.

I lay there a bit longer, and the wolves circled 'round. Slowly, they made their way inward toward the car—toward me. I discovered that I had a blanket of sorts draped across my shoulders, and I noticed my hair in wild disarray, so I tucked my head down into the seat of the car, with one eye on the wolves, and excruciatingly slowly...with the slightest of movements...I pulled the blanket to the top of my neck and buried my face beneath my hair.

I knew that if I stayed perfectly still, they wouldn't see me. Hopefully, the scent of delicious human was covered by the smoke and gasoline of the car. They drew closer, and I squeezed my eyes shut, shuddering when I felt their breath against my forehead. A tugging at my leg terrified me, and every muscle in my body stiffened in fear. One nuzzled my hair, slobbering across my face, and the tugging at my leg got stronger.

I think I knew I would have been dead. Staying perfectly still hadn't confused them or distracted them at all; it just made them take their time.

Without warning, people came around the corner. To my surprise, one of them was my best friend. She had lived!

They scared off the wolves, and an ambulance pulled up in silence. I was flipped over and helped to my feet...until I tried to stand on my own, and realized that the tugging at my foot had actually been a wolf removing my foot altogether. My right leg ended at the ankle in a mangled mess of blood and torn muscle.

I survived the wolves, which is all I can ask for. The stranger in the fish store wouldn't have wanted anything to do with a broken woman anyhow. At the end of the day, I still had my best friend, and that was more than enough for me.

The Orphan Girl of the Moon

Leave it to me to pull out my tarot cards late at night and not think about the dreams they will bring! This one was sad, and full of revelation.

***

Though I can't remember where it began, I know where it ended. In my house. I was lying in bed, waking up for the morning. A little girl needed to get ready for school.

She was my little girl now. I had saved her from a video game--I believe she was an orphan. She was so calm and quiet. Was she always like that? Or did the game present some sort of trauma that she couldn't recover from? I didn't know. All I knew was that she was mine now. There was a good chance that social services would be by sometime, and they might take her away. But until they came, I vowed to take as good care of her as I do my own children. Step one was getting her ready for school.

She was about 6 or 7 years old, so she must have been getting ready for kindergarten or first grade. She wore a blue cotton dress, Tardis blue but a shade lighter from wear and use. It came to her knees, and it had a tank top with wide shoulder straps. I think there was some design on the front, but it wasn't clear.

I woke up to her standing at the side of my bed, reminding me about school. I got up and began getting things ready when I realized the dress she wore was the same one she had been rescued in. That just wouldn't do. My sister in law had given me a wardrobe of hand-me-down little girl clothes for my own daughter, so I began sifting through the piles and racks of clothes, looking for something to fit my new daughter.

I had even gone into the kitchen searching, where I had rows upon rows of hanging clothes, like a personal thrift shop. All the clothes were either too big, in a woman's size 2 to 4, or too small, for toddlers. A few small dresses stood out; I loved the one I found that was shiny like satin, spaghetti strap top, made from three or four large bands of fabric, starting in white at the top, then a band of light pink, darker pink, and blue. It looked like cotton candy. I don't recall if it fit her or not, I just remember the bus arriving and I hugged her before she left.

I then went to lay back down, and I laughed a bit when I recalled a conversation I had in which someone told me about the game and the child within, but they hadn't told me it would be such a sweet girl. I looked down at my phone to shut off the alarm that was ringing out, and I saw the last line of text messages I had sent with my friend, who had passed away. I realized that he had never mentioned she was a little girl either.

At the mention of my friend, I felt sadness and loss, because he had passed away before I had a chance to say goodbye. It was all very sudden. The last two messages I had sent to him actually were images of my character from the game. I can't remember the first one, but in the second one, my character was sitting in water, waist deep. Very clear water. An overlay of a full moon graced the image as well, lending its wisdom and mystery. It made me very sad that the last things I sent were from a game, and not real life. Games weren't as personal as real life.

***

I woke up after that, but the little girl still gets to me. She was so quiet and so mature for her age. Her long brown hair was straight as a board and ran past her shoulders to her waist. Her skin was pretty tan, but that might have been natural and not sunkissed. She never moved fast, just followed me around slowly, watching me peacefully. It was like she had accepted fate, and if I could reward her in some way, that would be great; but if I couldn't, she wouldn't mind. She was very much reminiscent of the moon. When I think of her, even without realizing it at first, I think of the moon. I hope she's alright, wherever she is now.

Deer, Elk, Moose

My friend Megan and I were at my house and getting ready to go somewhere. I think it was around 2:30 pm and we were going to pick up my kids from school. It was taking me a few minutes to get ready, and so Megan went out to the Sequoia to wait for me. She was standing by her door on the passenger side and I was walking through the living room towards the front door.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. So I look out the window and see a large deer standing by a deer feeder in the pasture. My first thought was how majestic it was. But then a second one lifts it's head and suddenly they seem to be half the distance. There is something odd about this one though... it has one large antler and one small one. At first glance I thought the second antler was a broken stub, until the sun hit it just right and I saw the tines. The deer, seemingly so close now, began to take notice of each other; they rattled their antlers together, sparingly at first, then with passion and competitiveness. I was a bit alarmed, but I knew it was only me and megan at the house. So I shook my head and walked out the front door.

I was a little cautious knowing they weren't too far away, but knew I'd be safe if only I could reach my sequoia. But once I got into the front yard, my fears grew stronger. The deer were suddenly on the other side of the fence, just 20 feet away, and they seemed to have grown in size. They were now the size of elk. They even looked like they had become elk themselves. I calmly told Megan to get in the Sequoia and she'd be safe. By now we were both watching the elk like rabbits watching a bobcat. I took a step toward the Sequoia but Megan, disregarding my advice, stepped around the front end of the truck and stopped in her tracks when the dueling elk turned their attention to her. I told her again to get in the Sequoia and at first I thought she would, but she hesitated.

The elk took two steps toward her and stopped. A third elk step up from behind the others. This one was double the size of the other two. As a matter of fact, it was a moose. An angry moose. I started to move toward the truck when a very large, loud schoolbus suddenly appeared in the pasture. It was empty.  The moose were distracted long enough for Megan and I to get back in the house.

We looked at the clock to see the time (2:50pm) and then looked out the window in time to see the moose was closer and larger. I thought for a moment that i should call the school to let them know I'd be late getting the kids. I grabbed my Keychain truck lock and we both sat at the window watching the fighting animals. In a last effort to get into the vehicle, I tried to hit the panic button to sound the truck alarm, but instead my hood opened up. I hit the button again to close it then pressed the correct button... but the alarm woke me up.

Canasta with Sheldon

I know, it's been a long time since I've recorded my dreams. It's been a long time since I've had the time to do so. Here's a quick description of a dream I had, that I posted to facebook. Wish I would have typed it up here too!

I just had a dream that I was playing canasta with Sheldon while Penny and Leonard sang Madonna behind us to an invisible crowd.

Oh, and we were each playing with a ball of yarn--mine was brown and Sheldon's was green--and I think they represented our lives, because as we moved we pulled at the yarn. Sometimes it came out easy and sometimes it got tangled.

Snake-Charmed Lawyer

I typed this up immediately after waking up the next morning, but made a billion typos and never published it. I don't know if I finished typing it all up or not, but I went through and fixed the typos (and made it into full sentences as best I could) so here's what it ended up as. It was three full dreams.

***

I was at Mcdonald's with my friend and her parents. I had left my wallet at home, and people kept cutting in front of me. They served fried chicken.

In the dream I worked at a law firm, and I was the third Charmed One along with Piper and Phoebe.

I was put on an assignment to travel from somewhere to school, and I drove a cart. There were some people with me, though I don't remember who they were; we drove through the streets and I thought I could find the way from where we were but I got lost in the neighborhood. Everything started going crazy—all sorts of animals began attacking everyone, including dogs, sheep, cows, tigers, cats, etc. We had to drive around with the cart dodging animals till we could find the school.

Finally, we found the school (law firm) and went inside. There was a tall guy with short black shaved hair, pale skin, and wide eyes with deep sockets...he looked so familiar, like I knew him from somewhere in life, and I'm pretty sure I really did know this guy somewhere. I bumped into him in the hall. He was mean and tried to fight and argue, but I just kept going. Went down the hall to where Piper was...sort of like a hospital room, but she could walk around, though I'm not sure what she was in for. Gave her a drink and went to the other side of the firm to find Phoebe. Tall guy tried to pick a fight again and threatened to kill me.

In the last room on that floor, I found Phoebe with our mentor. He was very cute, slightly older, shortish light brown hair, and looked wise. While he was sitting at his computer, I told him the story of what had happened that day, of the tall man and his attitude, and he said he'd help. He was working on a story for Phoebe, looking into the activities of her ex. I glanced down the hall through the crack where the door was still open and saw the tall man looking around all shifty-like, then he leaned forward as another man leans out of a doorway and kisses him. I started laughing, because I could use that against him around the office to make him leave me alone, since he didn't seem to want anyone to know.

I decided to go take some things down to my truck (as a way to leave Phoebe and our mentor for a few minutes so they wouldn't know why I was laughing). As I walked down the stairs at the front of the building, the tall man was walking up; he walked close to me and tried to trip me. I saw it coming though and managed to sidestep, but my balance was shaky. I reached out to center myself and grabbed the back of the tall man's jacket.  He continued to try shoving me down the stairs, no longer acting like an accident, but I held my balance and he ended up tumbling backward down the center, head first, colliding with the cement landing below. I walked past, glad it wasn't me but a little worried hoping I didn't kill him. He got up with a very pissed-off look on his face (pissed off but oddly emotionless) and walked inside the building.

I went to my truck and dropped some stuff off, but as I went toward building again, Phoebe shouts at me out the window. Apparently she found a picture of her hubby with another woman, from the last time we visited Utah...? Confused, I began heading back inside the building, and I went up with Phoebe and our mentor. At this time, her problem was mostly solved for now, so our mentor continued to work on my issue after I told him about the attempted murder right out front. What a great mentor!

Ready to leave for the day, groups of people were heading out front. Piper and Phoebe were going to meet me at my truck to go home. We walked with a large group. I'm almost by my truck when I see the tall man walk out a few people ahead of me...and of course right then, the crowd slows to a stop from heavy traffic. I'm not sure if the tall man sees me or not.

He looks very angry all of a sudden, very dark, then without warning pulls out his pen and stabs the person in front of him in the back of the neck. He turns to the next person beside him and stabs them as well.

I don't know why I didn't get in my truck. Instead I go to run past some people to my right, but he sees me and pushes me down. I fall against the building and turn over and he is right on top of me with the pen gripped tightly in his white knuckles, his arm tense, holding it just inches from my face. I can see the blood dripping from the end of the pen when I see that he didn't even click it; the pen is still retracted and hes been stabbing people with a blunt hole at the end of the pen. He looks extremely scary as he goes to stab my neck. I catch his arm but I can still feel the pain of the pressure against my throat. I tell him desperately that I know his secret, though I'm not sure why I thought that would help, because he gets completely enraged and tries to stab me again. I tell him if he stabs me, I'll tell everyone his secret.

Not sure how I got out of that one; someone must have saved me. But I lived somehow.

***

In the next dream, I wasn't actually there. Instead I was watching Captain Jack, sailing the high seas. He comes across a ship being attacked by other pirates and decides to check it out. One of the pirates was a woman that he knew.

He went to grab a headband piece he saw, but the woman pirate took it first and told him no, he couldn't have it. He asked why, and she said simply because she liked it, but he knew it had some sort of magical property and was important.

They went back to her ship, where she seemed to think she had Jack as a prisoner, though he was free to walk about. She was doing a load of laundry on board and Jack said she should wash her new headband. He started going down the list of things she was washing or should wash, naming her pants, shirt, bra, vest, and finally headpiece and tossed it into the washer.

He started doing that thing that Captain Jack does best, wandering the room talking somewhat aimlessly, eventually coming full circle to stab the ceiling and swing around on the blade over the washer, grabbing the headpiece from inside as he went. At some point there was a strange scene of him washing part of his own pants or something; they were thick and white but had a big dirt stain on the back. He put a cleaner on it and rubbed it in, but it ate through the clothing and he started pulling fibers off of it, even though it did take out the dirt, too.

***

At another point, we're driving to go to a nice vacation spot. I don't remember who was driving, but there were two cars. I think my kids were in the car, too. I wasn't strapped in at first but then we started going around narrow cliff sides and across flimsy wooden bridges, and as beautiful as it all looked out there, we were very high up in the mountains and I didn't want to die if the truck slipped, so I strapped myself in and tried to ignore how close to the edge the tires were coming.

We eventually made it to a beautiful hotel type place, with sparkling pools of crystal clear blue water, and gorgeous water plants, with lots of vegetation around the edges. Each pool had a door leading inside the lavish hotel. There were even gift shops and stuff.

An old friend of mine was there (we're not friends anymore), and I was showing her some of the magical gifts they had, like rock sets and a small crystal egg thing with a voice recording that sounded like our magic school teacher doing a guided meditation.

We even saw a live snake with black-and-red stripes—there may have been other colors too but I remember black and red. He was just swimming along the top of the water of the pool we were at, away from us near the wall of the pool (all the pools were held in naturally by natural rock formations).

There was a couple beside us with a little boy—he was a baby but he was very big for his age—and the dad was holding him but asked me to put my hand on the kid's head. I did so and then the dad took his free hand to brush the boy's hair. Apparently the kid wouldn't let anyone but a stranger touch his hair, which is why he needed me to distract him so the kid would think I was brushing his hair even though it was really the dad doing it.

We go inside and the president is there. Not sure what he was the president of. He was worried because the snake had come inside the hotel into the room we were in. The room was dark and filled with rich, carved trim and soft furniture and expensive showpieces and art. There were many many doors around the room, and they were all dark, but one was painted red. He said it was red to mark that it was the door the snake came in at, and it was propped open slightly to try to lead the snake back out, but he wouldn't go.

I grabbed two nearby pool sticks and put one under the head of the snake and one under the body to try to carry him. Although I got to the door, it wasn't open enough, so I had to manage. Eventually I got him outside without being bitten.

But then he was in one of the pretty pools, and I was worried he'd bite someone anyway. I watched as he went in another door, which led to a library. The library was empty and very dark; it had windows with long slender blinds over them and they were open just enough to see through the slits to a dark and rainy moonlit night. Which is crazy, because it was just bright daylight out not long earlier.

I managed to use the pool sticks on the snake again, though he didn't like it. It was more of a struggle and I had to start using them like chopsticks, holding the snakes head still. I managed to get him out a window, but it was like I could talk to it now, and I heard it exclaim how excited he was when he found his way into someone's house right next door. He was in their kitchen and I was trying to tell him he shouldn/t be there, but what could I do? He was happy.

Attack of the Mayhem Man

This dream was insane. And vivid. You know the guy from the car insurance commericals, who acts like various disasters that could ruin your vehicle, calls himself "Mayhem"? He was in my dream, also causing Mayhem. And destroying life as I knew it.

I was at home with my boys. Standing on the front porch looking down the driveway, I see a car by the mailbox that is just sitting there. I start to go down the driveway to check it out. As I pass by the lake, I see some people fishing (I guess we knew they were there, because I didn't question it) and our lawyer was there too. When I finally reach the mailbox, the car has changed from white to green, and there is a man next to our gate with his back to me. He hears me coming and turns around... and it's the Mayhem man!

He says his name is Duke, and that he's looking for somewhere to hold an animal adoption drive of some sort. Despite my attempts to decline his offer to hold it at my house, he pushes past me and finds a sign up just inside my gate. I don't know if he put the sign there, or simply began altering one that he put up, but before I knew it there was a sign talking about puppies and cute lonely kittens. I didn't realize at the time that it was a cleverly designed trap.

While I was following Duke and trying to stop him from putting up his sign, I was being distracted by two french women. They were fashion models or designers, and they definitely looked the part. They had on tight dark jeans, shirts that only had one sleeve and hung at angles around their waists, their hair was cut short and layered, and their eye makeup was smoky and seductive. Unfortunately, they were very mean. I was simply wearing dark jeans, cowgirl boots, and a 3/4 wide-sleeve brown sweater I wear often. Apparently they were judging my sense of style, and I was failing. They were walking around me in circles with distasteful looks on their faces, talking between each other as if I wasn't even there. They did eventually go away, but only because it seemed like the adoption drive was all set up and ready for guests.

People started arriving. No one went past the lake though, luckily, so even though it was held on our property the guests stayed away from the house. There were lots of people, and they all looked rich--some of them even looked familiar, as if I had seen them on TV or something. Duke stepped forward out of the crowd... and Mayhem ensued.

Everyone started dying. It was like they were all being tortured, and that they were slowly dying in ways similar to whatever movies or shows they had acted in. They all died in ways they knew, in ways they had pretended to die. It was bloody, gory, and downright terrifying... and all during a beautiful, bright, cloudless, perfect summer day. Duke was dancing among them, laughing and touching their shoulders and heads, where worse maladies spread from his fingertips like wildfire. The worst part was that their screams were muffled, and what I heard clearly were their pleas. The words they spoke rather than moaned. The cries for help that they vocalized rather than squealed.

I was safe, though. No injury or illness took me. But I did have a woman fall over me, and I knew I had to try to help her. She looked vaguely similar to Angelina Jolie, but much younger. Her skin was turning inky black, and as it did so it was killing her. It would begin at her hands, and as it went down her arms her hands would shrink and take shape of simply black balls on the ends of black wrists, till all that was left was black stubs as it traveled towards her shoulders. The irony lay in the fact that from a distance, she appeared to be wearing sparkly black arm-length gloves, and the twisting and turning she was doing in agony seemed like an exotic dance. Anyone who drove by would simply think we were having an excentric party for the rich and famous. The deaths and torture were beautifully mortifying.

I reached up the woman's arms and found that where the black began was a separate layer from her skin. It was like skintight latex; llike a layer of plastic wrap that had been spraypainted on for a perfect fit. I grabbed the ends and pulled it down her arms, and although it felt wrong and nasty, like I was peeling off a layer of her skin, it instead came off her wrist stubbs and appeared to elongate her arms back to their normal size. I began moving frantically, removing layer after layer of black inky skin, and as I did so her arms were growing back underneath. I was still having to fight the black, because it was trying hard to take over as I was peeling it back. It leapt from her arms and lashed around her waist. I pulled the last bit from her hands then started working on her back, tearing off layers that were climbing between her shoulder blades. I think it hurt her as I did all this, but she knew it was to save her life.

We did eventually get it all off of her, and I shoved her toward the gate to leave. I knew that if she just got out of the gate, she would be safe. She didn't want to leave me after I had saved her, but I knew I had to stay--my kids were here, after all, and I couldnt leave Duke alone on the property. She left, and I knew I had saved her. But when I turned to face the rest of the dying guests, it was too late. Not only was the yard covered with dead bodies and body parts, but the sun was shining in an almost sickening way, so bright and cheerful that it seemed to be taking away some of the horror and sadness of what had happened. It wasn't right, to just cover the emotions that should be felt for such loss. With a wave of his hand, Duke made everyone else disappear, and he smiled.

Now we were standing face to face, about 20 feet apart. He stood on the driveway, just beside the spillway where the lake overflows. I was slightly farther up the driveway, so technically he was standing in my way of reaching the house, even though we were still at least 1/8 of a mile from the house. He was off to the side though, so if I decided to make a run for it, I had a pretty good chance, depending on how fast he was. My kids were standing beside me now, still young (still four and two years old). I told Duke that he shouldn't be here, and that it was time for me and my boys to go home. I had a feeling that he would try to stop us, so I sent my kids to the house on four wheelers. Each kid was suddenly on a four wheeler, heading in opposite directions. They were to take zigzaging paths to the house, and when they got there, they were to go inside and hide away from windows and doors. Duke and I stared at each other for a few moments, then I took off toward the house at a full sprint. Part of what kept me moving was the fact that Duke wasn't phased at all by the idea of us running from him. He didn't even seem like he was going to chase us... he was too calm.

As I reached the house I saw one of the four wheelers outside and I knew David had made it  back safely. Night had fallen rather quickly, and the sky was already black. When I openned the front door, a mouse ran from the other side of the house all the way to the door and outside. I stood just inside, with David comfortably and obliviously playing a game in the living room. I watched out the door as Duke slowly walked closer and closer up the driveway. He stood in the yard, just on the edge of the darkness, and watched me in return.

I heard the other four wheeler come up to the house, and I stepped outside to bring my son in safely. Levi walked up the ramp into the house, and Duke just stood there watching us. He made no attempt to follow us or come closer. I backed up slowly until I was in the door again, made sure my kids were safe, then shut and locked the door securely. The kids played games in the living room while I paced the house, ensuring the doors and windows were all locked and that Duke had no way to enter. When I paced back to the front door I jumped back when I saw he had moved up onto the porch and was examining the door, searching for a way inside. He was laughing slightly, like he thought it was funny that we could keep him out.

I grabbed my phone and called my husband, who was working late. I told him about how Duke was on the porch trying to get inside, and how scared I was for me and the kids. Duke  found an old gun on the porch, one that shouldn't have been able to work, but he managed to make it fire anyways. He didn't hit anyone, but I was even more afraid than before. All I kept seeing in my head was my boys in danger. I was still on the phone with my hubby, but it would take too long for him to get home.

I woke up shortly afterwards, but not before the image of Duke on the front porch, staring at me with a gun in his hands, was burned into my mind.