Dream a Last Dream

Miss Zoe patiently awaits the end of these confounded dreams.

You know, I can't even tell where I am in the numbering of my dream posts. It's just like me to start counting to 10 and to have lost track by the time I've gotten to 5.

Just ask the Chick. I am easily distracted.

Be that as it may... Zoe is demanding that we move on to other topics (I'm not sure what She has in mind, but I'm sure it will have Something to do with the Importance of Rabbits as opposed to the importance of human concerns of any kind), and so for now, today's dream post will be the last of its kind.

Since I've started writing these dreams down for you, I've had many others, of course, and I told Zoe as much the other day. The discussion went a little like this:

"You know, I have had other interesting dreams in the last few weeks that I could share, Zoe."

Big Rabbit Sigh. Big Rabbit Yawn.

"Do You want to hear them, Oh, Wise and Beautiful Bunny?" I said, kissing Her Rabbit behind with my words.

"What are they about?" She asked as She tapped Her Claws on Her slate tiles.

Tap, tap, tap.

"All sorts of things!!" I said, excited that She wanted to hear them. "I've had a dream about a Full Moon, a dream about a Crescent Moon, a dream about a Red Tailed Hawk..." My voice trailed off as She looked away.

"But are they FUNNY?" she said simply, not looking at me, still tapping Her Claws.

"Uh.... wellllllll.... " I swallowed. "Nope. I guess not."

"I rest My case," Zoe said as She hopped into the hay box. Then She added, "My hay could use a fluffing, in case you hadn't noticed."

OK, so Zoe's right. Those dreams aren't funny. This last dream I have to share with you actually isn't as much funny as it is weird (I guess like any of them). So here it goes.

In this dream, I am jogging or running (I don't really know the difference). I was in the small town where I went to college, New Wilmington, PA, (a bit of an AmishTown, USA). I was running along the sidewalks, waving at Amish people in their horse drawn buggies. I felt really good-- my breathing was perfect, my strides were just right.

I got to the actual "downtown" of New Wilmington (and I say "downtown" because it's not so much a "downtown" as a pizza shop and a general store) and I stopped in front of a store front that was filled with television screens. Every TV screen was filled with some news show telling about a Nuclear disaster of some kind.

(Side note: SEE??? NOT funny!!! This part is unusual for me-- a dream about disaster? Not me. I dream about cats in the coffee aisle, for goodness sake!! This part of the dream came about because I had just read Douglas Coupland's book Generation X, and while I can't now tell you what that novel is about, I have always blamed it for this part of this dream, so it must be something about fear of Nuclear disaster that takes place in the mind of Generation Xers like myself.)

Here comes the good part!

So I think to myself, "Why am I watching these televisions when I was having such a nice jog/ run?" and I turn to keep going, and suddenly, I am surrounded by....

FLOATING CAT HEADS!!!!

Everywhere. Floating cat heads. They float slowly by in a flock. They make me smile and laugh, and, though they are obviously a little freaky (disembodied cat heads? COME ON!! FREAKY!!), I generally like them, and they make me feel at ease.

Then, I woke.

Miss Emmie plays the role of
"Floating Cat Head"
like nobody's business!!

And so, there you have it. A dream to consider during your day.

Interpretations, anyone?

Back to the Dreams

This is the last post Zoe and I will ever do in 2009.

We'll try to make it good.

This particular dream that I'll tell you about today is extra timely due to the circumstances currently happening in the Pad.

You see, over the last few weeks, our little Rosie the Cat (pictured below on her Red Stool) has been feeling a bit under the weather. A little bit of a sniffly nose. A tiny bit of a cough.

Sweet, Gray Rosie

And in the week, this has passed onto our sweet Miss Emmie (a.k.a. "The Lamb") as well. Same thing-- sniffly nose, sneezing, a bit of a cough.

Apparently, they somehow caught a cold.

(Both of them are feeling much better at this point, by the way. And The Chick has assured me that Zoe will not catch the cold. Interspecies blah blah blah. No worries.)

The point of telling you about the cat cold is to say that "the Whites" (being comprised of the White Cats, Miss Emmie, and Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald) normally sleep in the basement.

"The Whites"

"Why do they have to sleep in the basement?" you may ask. "How is that fair, when the rest of the Animals, including a certain RABBIT have the run of the house all night long?" (Actually, I'm sure you wouldn't dis the Rabbit in such a way, so maybe that went a little far. Sorry. I take it back.) But you may still ask why the Whites sleep in the basement, mightn't you?

And I might say this: Because when they sleep upstairs, THEY KEEP EVERYONE AWAKE!!!

It's true. They used to sleep upstairs, and for many years, we simply never slept. At least, not through the night. We slept in fits and spurts only, and we adjusted to that. Eventually, we figured out that we could make the Whites a Lair in the basement, and since that revelation they have scored their own bedroom.

Pre-revelation, however, on a morning after a a night of not-sleep, when I was completely delirious and in and out of that weird dream state, I had a dream.

This the dream I want to discuss today.

In this dream-- which I had after a night of being kept awake by the melodious singing of our Dear Scottie Cat-- in this dream, I concocted the best idea I have EVER HAD!!! At least that's how it felt at the time. You know what I mean, right?

My idea? I'll tell you.

My idea was that I would write a letter to Scottie the Cat, and in this letter I would ask him to simply refrain from meowing until a decent hour of the morning, like, say, 7 AM.

I wouldn't ask for much, I thought. It will be a simple letter. One he will read quickly and understand thoroughly.

It was PERFECT!!!

Of course later on, when I woke up, I realized that Scottie, well, he can't exactly read.

Sigh.

Well, it seemed like a good idea.

"Can we PLEASE stop talking about cats??
I'm bored!!"

Have you ever gotten the BEST IDEA IN THE WORLD from a dream???

If so, let's hear it!!

A Second Dreamless Wednesday

"Dreamless?? Again?? What the...???"

Last Wednesday, even though I was smack in the middle of telling about my top ten favorite dreams, I decided to take a break and talk about something else. I can't even remember what it was. Hmmm.... guess I'll have to look.

This week, the plan was to get back to the dreamscape, but, you know, it's practically Christmas Eve, so it seems like I should offer up something a little better.

Something a little more in the holiday spirit, if you will.

Even if you won't.

So, on this Wednesday, I offer a different kind of dream. A Holiday kind of dream. A dream that is a noun and not a verb.

Now, maybe this isn't your Dream. I imagine that everyone has a different Dream to offer up. It's what makes us unique and important in that individual way.

But this is my Dream. Well, part of it.

Animals. Dressed up.

My gift to you, this holiday season.

Dream A Fifth Dream

CUTE!!

It is already Wednesday. I will make it through this crazy Chickless week!! I WILL!!

This isn't easy.

I realized partway through the day on Tuesday that I am just never ever alone. When I am at work, I am surrounded by people from the moment I get there until the moment I go home. When I am at home, the Chick is always there. She entertains me! Constantly!

My life is about constant entertainment.

I mean, look! How entertaining is this??

It seems like having some alone time would be exciting-- even thrilling for me. And in many respects, that is true. But you see, I have this idea in my head: I have time ALONE! I should be writing! I should be painting! I should be buckling down and working!! And then, I end up being distracted and walking around looking at the sleeping cats and bunny who are all ignoring me.

But then, I guess, there is also a lot of merit to the idea of balance, yes?

OK, you're right. (Did you even know you were in this conversation? Well, you are.)

Thanks for your help. (See-- you are even helpful!)

On to the dream, then.

"Please! I would like to get to my nap...SOMEDAY!!"

This week's dream involves that state you get to right before you fall asleep. That sort of awake- sort of asleep place where anything can happen.

It also involves...well.. you'll see.

When I was little, we had chickens in our yard. They lived in the cutest yellow chicken coop. I loved those chickens!!!! My sister always tells me that I loved the chickens so much because I didn't have to clean up after them (which apparently became her job-- who knew?). I just got to go out to the coop and pet them and collect their warm, brown eggs.

I thought the chickens were positively dreamy!

Good times.

So the dream was about them. Actually, I wouldn't call it so much of a dream as a vision. Like the Cat in the Coffee Aisle, this dream consisted mainly of a visiony flashy sort of thing.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I saw a vision of the chickens. Beautiful chickens!

Out loud (in real life) I said "OH! THE CHICKENS!"

The Chick, who was sitting next to me reading, woke me up. "What about the chickens?" she asked.

But it was no use. There was no explanation. It was nothing about the chickens. It was simply, "Oh, the chickens!" They were just there. That was all.

"Nothing...." I answered and went back to sleep.

THE END.

Tune in next week, when the dream is about...

Well, I can't actually tell you. It would spoil everything!!

Dream a Fourth Dream

Hold on to your hat.
This is going to get strange.

Here we are at week number four of my weird dream posts inspired by the Erie County Public Library's own Miss Kitty. (Don't try to get out of this, Miss Kitty. You know you are to blame!)

This dream is from a few years back. After the post on Monday about the imaginary Rabbit named Mr. Rumi who assists me in gift buying duties, I'm a little concerned that after this post you'll say to yourself, "You know, really? I think this is enough. This Marcy person is quite simply just a nutter."

And that's fine. But you have to read to the end of the dream first. Then, and only then, will you be qualified to make that prognosis.

NOT TRUE!! I have not read the dream, and I am already making that prognosis!!

So, here we go. Dream #4:

I'm on the second floor of the Blasco Library (the library where I work). I'm with a lot of other people. I guess you could call it a party of sorts. We're in a big, open space on the second floor of the library, where we normally house exhibits of the artistic variety or sometimes press conferences or receptions.

Anyway, there I am with a bunch of other people. We are milling about as though we are at a party.

Suddenly, music starts playing and I find myself in a Rockettes-style kick line.

(Here's where you need to brace yourself. If you're not sitting down, Zoe suggests doing so.)

There I am in the kick line, kicking away with the best of them (that's a dream in and of itself!!), and I look down to the end of the line, you know, I guess to get a glimpse of how I'm keeping up with the other kickers.

I look down the line and at the very end, I notice someone else peeking back at me. This someone is also kicking, and from the look on this someone's face, this someone is having a most wonderful time.

This someone would be..... the elephant panda dog.

With the snout of a dog, the black eye circles of a panda, and the trunk of an elephant, the elephant panda dog is completely unmistakable to me. It is as though I have seen him/ her/it a hundred times. While I'm kicking and looking down the line and seeing this most bizarre creature, I think to myself, "Oh, look! The elephant panda dog.!!" It is a simple and comforting thought.

I smile at the elephant panda dog. He winks at me. Just a slight wink, like something you might see Santa Clause do. His eye sparkles (I can only see one, as the far eye is hidden by the protruding bridge of the trunk, of course), and as he winks I hear that distinctive, staccato "PING!" sound of a television wink.

The elephant panda dog assumes his place in line as do I.

And that is the end of the dream.

The interesting part of the dream is that when I woke up, as is the case with so many dreams, it felt so real. It was like I discovered a new animal. That wink will live in my mind's eye forever.

Someone.
Please.
Call 911.
It's an emergency.
I need to get out of here ASAP!

Don't let her fool you. You should hear some of Her dreams!!!

Nevertheless, Zoe and I and the other animals at the Lilypad wish to wish you a
Very Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Dream a Third Dream

Miss Zoe enjoys a dream about carrots.

This sharing-my-dreams thing has been kind of fun.

I've gotten some good attempts at interpretation from Dr. Kavindra! Thanks, Kavindra!

Also, it's possible that a lot of people may now think that a) I'm crazy, or b) I do drugs before bedtime. Let me assure you...well, never mind.

So, today's dream is not about a toe. It's not about a cat.

It's about something a little more unexpected.

It's about-- Waylon Jennings.



Now, I don't know a whole lot of Waylon Jennings. At the time I had the dream, at about age 12, I knew even less. Now I could at least tell you that he hung out with Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson and that sort of crowd. With access to the Blisschick's Israel called the Internet, I can even look up his website and view such classic songs as: "Are you Sure Hank Done It This Way," or "Don't You Think This Outlaw Bit's Done Got Out Of Hand?"

But, at the time, I had no references. That's why I thought it was strange. The only thing I can think of, looking back on it now, was that perhaps I'd caught an errant episode of "The Dukes of Hazard," which my dad liked to watch. I just found out that he sang the theme song for that. Maybe-- just maybe-- there's some connection there.

So, here's the dream: I'm little-- probably 5 or 6 (I was really cute then!!) and I'm at my grandparents house, which was often the case, riding my tricycle in circles in their giant, cement floored basement. I was having a blast, just riding and riding in circles.

Suddenly, there was a record player. I dismounted the trike, and I walked over to look. On the player spun a record by Waylon Jennings. I started yelling, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WAYLON JENNINGS!!!" Then I ran up the stairs to tell my grandparents that it was Waylon Jennings' birthday. Should we send him a card?

When I got upstairs, my mom was there instead, so I told her. And she said to me: "No, honey, we're NOT sending Waylon a card," as if this must be something I wanted to do all the time, and frankly, it was getting on her nerves.

Instead then, I grabbed a molasses cookie out of Grandma's big, red, metal cookie can (that actually I think at one time contained saltine crackers) and went back downstairs.

That's when I woke up.

What could it mean?

Zoe and I have no insights. So all you interpreters out there, give me your best shot!!

Oh, and have sweet dreams!

Dream a Second Dream

Last week, I told you about the saga of my broken big toe. (As you can see above, Miss Zoe is not interested in this post.)

And I told you what led up to me thinking I should tell you that story-dream-- Miss Kitty, giving the Rabbit a day off, telling you more about myself, blah, blah, blah.

Did you know this was going to turn into a many weeks' long feature, in which I reveal to you my dreams?

Well, I think I mentioned that after I got home from work last Monday night, somewhere during the course of the evening, the Blisschick and I made a list of the Top Ten Most Memorable Dreams I have had in my life.

It's kind of like one of David Letterman's Top Ten lists, if you know what I mean.

It's not too late to flip over to another blog, you know. You can stop reading now if you want to.

Here's your chance to stop.

Because if you read the next sentence, it will be too late.

Cat in the Coffee Aisle.

See? Too late.

Number 2 on the List of Top Ten Most Memorable Dreams? The Cat in the Coffee Aisle dream.

Miss Zoe: startled that I dream of
anything but Rabbit.

OK, so, last week's example was pretty narrative, right? I'm playing kick ball, the ball rolls across the plate, I kick it, break my toe, and on and on. It has some order to it. It's not really a good story, but nevertheless, it is a story.

Cat in the Coffee Aisle is more of an abstract painting, a short story, a sketch. A poem.

In the dream, which is really more of a snippit or a short, rather than a long film, A Cat is sitting at the grocery store in the coffee aisle looking up.

Um....that's it. No, really. That's it.

Actually, I could also say this about the Cat. That is looks perplexed. It is deciding....hmmmm... Tanzanian Peaberry? Hazelnut? No-no-- Ethiopian Yirgacheffe!

And then perhaps: Whole bean? Or, ground? (And though the Cat probably enjoys the freshness of grinding its own whole bean coffee each morning, the decision is more likely about which is easier and which will the Cat feel like doing at 6:30 in the morning.)

It's always my hope that the Cat chooses wisely. But then, how else does a Cat choose?

I'm warning you now that this will keep going. On a list of Top Ten, you are only through two. That means eight more Wednesdays of the bizarre world of my dreams.

You can blame Miss Kitty.

You can also blame the Rabbit.

Dream a little dream

Every Monday night is my night to work at the library. We're open until 8:30, so it's pretty dark by the time we leave for the night. On this most recent Monday, it was also raining.

Miss Kitty, Culinary Genius and Children's Librarian Extraordinaire (who also has heated seats in her Honda), offered me a ride home. I'd not worn my raincoat, and she took the opportunity to remind me of one the perils of the Chick and I having no television: no Weather Channel.

"But you see," I told her, "I used to have a weather toe, so I always knew when rain was coming. It's not my fault my toe doesn't work anymore."

As you could imagine, this led to a discussion of my weather toe.

It was a toe I broke in 7th grade -- my big toe, in fact -- that got arthritis, which has, somehow over the years, inexplicably disappeared.

It is how I broke my toe, though, that led to the subject of this blog.

Miss Kitty said, "I really think this is a topic for the blog. Give that Rabbit a day off and tell them a little something more personal about yourself."

"Excuse me?"

To which I responded, "Oh, Miss Kitty!! NO one wants that!"

But, here I am, doing it anyway.

One night at about the age of 13, I had a dream. In the dream, I'm in gym class or some such thing, and I'm involved in a rousing game of kickball. And I'm "up," as in, it's my turn to kick. If I close my eyes, I can still see the whole scene as it was-- the ball coming in a straight line toward home plate, me standing, anxiously waiting and getting ready for the ball to roll just close enough, and then WHAM!!

I kicked that ball so hard!! It was definitely going to be a home run!!

"Home run indeed!"

Except I didn't make it that far in my dream. I woke up screaming in pain having kicked my bedroom wall instead of the "ball." I had broken my big toe.

Oh, it was very painful. And very colorful. Sigh.

And that, dear friends, is how I broke my big toe and how I gained a trusted weather toe, until of course, it ceased to be a weather toe.

Now, it is simply a plain, old toe again.

"Weather toe? Come on!"

When I got home, I told the Chick Miss Kitty's idea for me to write about my dream and her other idea for me to tell about my irrational fear of Chihuahuas. The Chick and I proceeded to make a list of my Top Ten Weirdest and /or most Interesting Dreams.

Over the next few weeks, I will share that list with you.

You will laugh.

You will cry.

They are better than Cats.

Not really.



And, they are certainly NOT better than Rabbits.

Is there a Dream Interpreter in the House?

Did you ever have one of those dreams?

You know the ones I mean. Disjointed. Weird.

At first when you wake up, you think, "Wow! That was so, like, meaningful!"

When I have these dreams, I wake up convinced that they make sense.

Like the dream I had about the cat sitting totally enraptured by the different kinds of coffee in the coffee aisle at the grocery store. That makes sense, right?

Or, the dream I had about the Elephant Panda Dog. You know, the one in the kick line that looked right at me and winked. Now that was profound. Wasn't it?

Elephant Panda Dog this!

So, the other night, I had one of those dreams.

In my dream a couple of events took place.

The first thing was that I woke and walked down the hallway to feed Zoe. So far, so good, right?

Mmmmm.... not quite. The gate to her room was open and Zoe was nowhere to be found. There were a few other other rabbits in her room, lined up neatly in their own little Willow Chalets, resting. Also, Zoe's room was not Zoe's actual, current room-- it was my bedroom from when I was little in the house I grew up in.

In lieu of herself and inside her empty Chalet, Miss Zoe had left a handwritten note, a list of sorts for my perusal. The list was labeled at the top: "HOUSEHOLD ENERGY POLICIES," and it continued on to outline the things she did not like. I woke the Blisschick to show her the list. Her response? "Oh, that RABBIT!" (Miss Zoe's handwriting, I am Proud to say, was very neat.)

"And, why shouldn't I be concerned with
Household Energy Policies?"

Then, there was a knock at the door. We went downstairs and opened the door to find Spider-Man standing there in strange, large, thick, squarish glasses. The Blisschick responded to this sight by saying, "Oh, it's YOU!" and promptly shut the door on him.

This is SO the face of someone who would slam the door on Spidey!

Again, the door we opened and closed on Spider-Man was in the kitchen of the house I grew up in, not in our current kitchen.

I must say, Spider-Man looked quite forlorn as the door swung closed in his bespectacled face. Poor Spidey. He kind of made a pouty lip. Not that attractive on a Superhero, I have to say.

And, so I ask: Is there a Dream Interpreter out there? Someone who can tell me why the phrase Household Energy Policies would show up in my dream, when, to me those are not really words? I mean, I would never venture to say those words in real life.

As for Spider-Man? Come on-- help me out here.

I have to say, Blisschick and I had a good laugh about it all. The things she said "Oh, that Rabbit!" and "Oh, it's you!" seem like pretty typical Blisschick statements, actually, which added to the funny.

But seriously, if this dream is supposed to mean something deep about my subconscious, I'm kind of curious as to what.

In the meantime, Miss Zoe is simply hoping that if the Green Goblin or Doctor Octopus show up outside her window, that Spider-Man remembers it was Blisschick and not her who slammed the door on him.

I'm pretty sure he'll remember.