Some books are undeservedly forgotten; none are undeservedly remembered.
[W. H. Auden]

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

I had a dream...

Well, I actually went back to school today. Not that there was reason to, since we did basically nothing in class. It made for good letter- and song-writing time, though.

Last night (actually, it was closer to this morning) I had a very drawn-out and vivid dream. It was connected, yet very random. It started with the Autodaughters and I (my family might have been there, but I don't remember them) heading to the hills to look for a Christmas tree. I don't recall anything particular, but we meandered about for awhile.

*flicker* (I'm stealing this from Qalmlea)

We were walking down a certain country road toward the canyon, past a stop sign Beth inadvertently blew through once. Now we were part of a large migration of people, mostly Jews (similar to the final scene of Fiddler on the Roof, set locally), and we were all going to the canyon for a Passover celebration that was, for some unexplained reason, unusually important. We got halfway down the road to the canyon when my aunt and I realized we had to go back to my house (again, unexplained). So we turned back.

*flicker*

Following the same road back, it suddenly became a corn maze and my aunt became a dark-haired girl who plays on my friend's basketball team. And the girl was wearing a patterned head scarf. We walked straight for some time, then finally took a side path.

The walk was long, with scattered conversation about the urgency of our return to the canyon. But we had to get back to my house before doing so. So we walked and walked my sense of direction was nothing but a memory. This was all very vague and tiresome.

*flicker*

This is where the dream became quite vivid. Along the pathway we were wandering on, we passed a mountain lion sleeping in the entrance of a path leading in a different direction in the maze. I saw it and my stomach clenched, but I'm certain my companion didn't notice it; she didn't respond, regardless. We walked on, and on, and it began to snow lightly. Now we were in a generic country setting, altogether unfamiliar. I think it was at this point that I became vaguely aware that I was Laura Ingles Wilder, and I had to get home before the blizzard came.

*flicker*

There are voices of children in the distance; they are, perhaps quite close, but the corn has grown taller than our heads and we can't see anything but the pathway ahead. Again, we pass a mountain lion. This time, the girl notices and nearly screams but bites her lip, grabs my hand, and continues walking. We haven't gone far when we hear the lion stir and the children scream. There is a fence ahead, and the snow is deep on the other side. We start to run; I glance back and the children are also running toward the fence. We can see a house in the near distance now. Once we are over the fence and onto the snow, we find we can run on top of it without sinking; the mountain lion cannot. Undefeated, it turns around and heads toward a road that leads to the house.

*flicker*

We are on said road now, having left the children in the house, and walking inside a fence-like enclosure set up to protect the villagers from the lion, which apparently has quite a reputation. I am not Laura anymore, nor am I myself. The head-scarfed girl is still beside me, and we are aiming for something that exists on the other side of the village entrance. Home is out there somewhere. So we walk, passing bearded blacksmiths, farmers in checked shirts, and children in dirty, pioneer-era clothes. It is a poor village, but the people seem content except for the lingering fear and suspicion etched into their faces. Several times, we see men on the fence shooting tranquilizers at the cat outside the fortification. We finally reach the entrance and there has been no sign of the lion for several hours. So, the chubby blonde girl in dirty over-alls on watch unbars the gate, but we never leave because we hear a scrimmage at one of the other gates. The lion has entered the town because the little boy set as sentry didn't lock it right. Thus begins a long and bloody battle to kill the mountain lion; the dark-haired girl and I run about with the gate-keeping blonde, trying to avoid the lion and get the children into safe places. We jump fences and run through houses, but it is nigh-on impossible to escape the rampaging lion. Nearly everyone is injured by the end of the ordeal, but it eventually limps away from the village, mortally wounded. My companion and I understand that our mission--the mission we didn't know we had--is accomplished and we walk through the gate into the great beyond...

Then I wake up.

Generally, when I have a dream this long, I alternately participate in the dream and watch it on a theater-like screen. I never left this dream. I was never a third party. That's quite unusual. Anyway, it's getting late and I had best get some sleep, and perhaps it shall once again be dream-filled.

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