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This morning I woke up and was immensely relieved that...
- I had not bought a new car and then lost it.
- I am not being stalked by Shirley Jackson.
- I did not forget to get dressed and not realize that I was wandering naked around Tokyo until several offended elderly men informed me.
- I do not need to guiltily inform my therapist that I have forgotten to get dressed and wandered naked in public multiple times. (This was a new one - in the dream, I recalled other "naked in public dreams" as being a history of wandering around naked in public.)
- I did not randomly decide not to accept the free offer of a gorgeous if slightly battered original painting of a gorgeous pink and black comic book spread.
- I did not spend hours and hours inexplicably attempting to fit a horse skull given to me by Shirley Jackson, a live strawberry plant with six strawberries, and a handful of dirt into the same pot without burying the strawberries, and also without it ever occurring to me that I could pick up the strawberry plant, put in the dirt and skull, and then put the strawberry on top instead of endlessly pouring in dirt and then uncovering the buried strawberries.
So that was a restful night.
- I had not bought a new car and then lost it.
- I am not being stalked by Shirley Jackson.
- I did not forget to get dressed and not realize that I was wandering naked around Tokyo until several offended elderly men informed me.
- I do not need to guiltily inform my therapist that I have forgotten to get dressed and wandered naked in public multiple times. (This was a new one - in the dream, I recalled other "naked in public dreams" as being a history of wandering around naked in public.)
- I did not randomly decide not to accept the free offer of a gorgeous if slightly battered original painting of a gorgeous pink and black comic book spread.
- I did not spend hours and hours inexplicably attempting to fit a horse skull given to me by Shirley Jackson, a live strawberry plant with six strawberries, and a handful of dirt into the same pot without burying the strawberries, and also without it ever occurring to me that I could pick up the strawberry plant, put in the dirt and skull, and then put the strawberry on top instead of endlessly pouring in dirt and then uncovering the buried strawberries.
So that was a restful night.
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It's not subtle, but it does seem reminiscent of the line about the cross between a Mafia don and a postmodernist.
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In all fairness, a horse skull and a strawberry plant feel like they would go together in a Shirley Jackson story, where nothing ever fits the way they might elsewhere.
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