The problem with wandering dreams
My dreams have an annoying habit. They wait till I’m asleep and then decide to go for a walk around the house. When I complained about it to my doctor she said that such a phenomenon is not completely unheard of. Apparently dreams need to wander about otherwise they end up having a bad posture. But aren’t they supposed to have bad posture? Why else would people call them twisted? Or tortured? Have you ever heard anyone refer to a dream as straight-backed, or having even shoulders? I mean, c’mon…get serious.
Bad posture or not my dreams sure are in a hurry to go places. One night I interrupted one of them just as it was about to jump over to the neighbour’s window ledge. It’s a good thing that I managed to stop it otherwise it would’ve tripped over the cat that lay there like a grumpy bundle. I forget which dream it was. I think it was the one I often have of the time I went cycling to the top of the mountain to gather rainbows. I know for sure that it’s a dream because I don’t know how to cycle. I pointed that out to my doctor and she said looking at me with twinkling eyes, of course it’s a dream my dear. How else would you know if the rainbows you gathered were real or made of plastic. I hadn’t thought of that. What a truly insightful remark. I smiled gratefully at her.
The other problem with wandering dreams is the fact that I find that they move around so much that I don’t have time to fill in the colours within the lines. The colours stick out like angry spikes and I really hate that because it makes them look like they’re going to snap at something. The red spikes are the worst. The yellow and purple ones I’m okay with. But anyway, as I was saying, if only they would stay still for a few moments. The other day I caught one of them just as it was about to slip into the washing machine. I had barely managed to fill in the colours when I woke up. I think it managed to escape into the washing machine because I heard a strange cliketty-claketty sound when I was doing a load of whites. I really must stop leaving the door of the washing machine open. They’re dream trappers, those wily, whiny things.
My doctor suggested that if I was so annoyed by the wandering dreams I should draw a hexagon in the air before I fall asleep so that they are trapped in them and cannot escape. It gives me enough time to count them and then put them away safely in moth balls. I think I’ll try that though I’m not sure if the hexagon should have pointed ends or blunt ones. Either way at least I can fill in the colours.
I think the neighbour’s lazy cat found the dream which was hanging out on the ledge. I saw a red spike sticking out from its mouth. Didn’t look normal to me.