Doctor's work

There was a dream before this one that dealt with a toy shop (my usual toy shop I guess) where I was spoiled for choice. About all I can remember were shelves and shelves of plastic dinosaurs in various primary colors.

Anyway…this somehow transitioned (quite seamlessly) into me lying on a mattress. It was a big mattress, and I wasn’t alone. I was lying there with two women, one on either side. We were all clothed btw. On my right was S, wearing I think her pyjamas. On the left was another woman, but I don’t know who it was. I remember her wearing black pants. The funny thing is that S was very hazy and indistinct. I knew it was her, but it was like she wasn’t really there. I also knew she was pregnant.

At the end of the mattress there was a doctor in scrubs and a mask who was urging us to come down. So we all scooched down to the end of the mattress (which was on the floor, or in the void or something like that) and he wanted us all close together. He was telling me to put my hip basically on top of the hip of the anonymous woman beside me, and then S would put hers on mine on the other side.

Once we were in position he started his “operation”. He came to me and told me to take my pants down (I was in what looked like white long johns) and that I’d feel a little “pinch” on my scrotum. My first thought was “OMG, this sounds like Andrew’s vasectomy!” but I knew it wasn’t a vasectomy. It was actually transferring S’s pregnancy to the other woman. S had become even more indistinct by this point.

I never got undressed, but the doctor must have done his work, since he held up a plastic tube. It was in the shape of a “T” junction, with clear tubes about 3 mm in diameter. One lead up from me into the junction, then the two top branches lead out, one to either woman. The tubes were full of my semen.

The dream faded out then into nothingness, and seconds later I woke up.

Restaurants lead to – murder!

I was driving, at night, and we were going downtown. I’m not sure downtown where, ‘cause it sure wasn’t Ottawa. But it was downtown to be sure. E was in the passenger seat. The street was a nice little street of cafes and restaurants, with a tree lined side, or maybe it was a full forest. I seem to remember horse headed iron railings with chain between them, like hitching posts.

We parked and then were in a restaurant with Bob from work. We were all sitting at a small square wooden table. There was a play of some sort on TV above us. It was a Greek classic of some sort, with two topless women in togas acting out the parts. When I looked back down there were two other women at the table with us. They were head down eating, and Bob was taking, but we had no food. I was surprised they were there since the whole place was empty and they could’ve sat at another table easily.

E and I weren’t speaking to each other, Bob was doing all the talking, and somehow he got us talking. I said something about fighting with her if she wanted. Then she laughed and I could feel the love between us and it was all okay. The women were gone, and we had food now, but we were disturbed by an explosion.

Bob and I leapt up and to the side. But now we were outside, looking up at a building. It was the 1890s. I was wearing a tweed overcoat (an Inverness) and carrying a black powder revolver of a long barrel military type. And Bob was dressed as a Victorian policeman. There was the smoke of an explosion coming out of the building on an upper floor, and I’m sure I saw someone throwing away a big (huge!) brass tube that had been used like an RPG to launch whatever it was.

Then Bob and I were entering an elegant apartment upstairs. He went over to a table covered in books, surrounded by other “official” types in frock coats. He held on to his “official police” credentials in case anyone asked why we were there. He was looking through the books. There was something to do with cryptology and there were two with Thomas the Tank engine on them. I tapped those for him to take (for A). The funny thing is that the covers were of the old 1920’s style, hardback cloth with the printed line art on the front. Like you sometimes see in the library.

I went over to see the body. There was someone leaned over working on the deceased. The fellow looked like Bob (again). I was now wearing a scarlet military jacket with blue facings and gold buttons and insignia. I was going to tell the man (coroner?) I was with military intelligence, when he interrupted me.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m with military intelligence. Oh really? So am I. I’m here to see the body. Oh really? So am I…”

Fade out, wake up.

Multipart Musing

This was a dream that lasted all night, and restarted a few times after breaks. That happens to me quite rarely, so I was quite surprised. Anyway, on with the show.

I was filming a documentary. It was a movie about these underprivileged, or perhaps repressed people in some unnamed Asian country (N Korea maybe?). But it rapidly transformed into me filming the escape of these two from their captors by going over a waterfall. They went without even a barrel. And then they climbed out on the other side, showed off their t-shirts to the camera and disappeared into the populous.

I went back to my filming, trying to pretend that I hadn’t been involved, hoping to sneak my footage out of the country. But I’d been discovered. We, that is me and my crew, were all put into this courtyard where we were to be harangued by a military type about breaking the rules. What I knew, instead, was that we were to be killed. Somehow I got everyone marching, and even though they were marching in different directions and different speeds and all that, it made everything okay. I remember I was quick-time marching through deep snow, with a division behind me. Because I could outpace them, we were to be saved.

(woke up here – A made some noise)

I picked up again with more filming. I was shooting a segment in some sort of military hospital/prison. The people there were all prisoners of war, and they were all Americans. They were also all elderly. I specifically remember seeing a woman in a Naval officer’s uniform, who had to be about 75.

It starts to get hazy here. There was something about a fire escape, and going into the jungle. Then there was a bit about erasing the video tapes, because I was damned if they (the government) were going to get my footage. I think I was awakened at least once more in here too.

It was such a busy night, I didn’t feel like I’d slept a wink.

Floor me

I was replacing the floor in the dining room. It wasn’t actually my current dining room, or even my current house, but rather some sort of airy and spacious farmhouse. I could see? tell? outside that it was open and beautiful with trees and fields and blue skies and all that lovely stuff. And there I was, going to replace the carpet in the dining room with hardwood.

The first step, I knew, was to take out the baseboards so that I could get the rug up, and then I’d need to pull out the tracks to hold the wall to wall and then I could start laying the hardwood. So I started pulling out the baseboards, a job I expected to be difficult, but it was easy! They came away like a dream. (ha ha) It was like they’d only been held in place by pins rather than nails. But then it wasn’t the baseboard I was pulling, it was the wall to wall tracks. The carpet was gone already and underneath there was actually really nice hardwood already (but blonde hardwood, not the nice dark stuff I was going to put down). And then there were some sections of the dark floor already down too. I’d put them in place, I could see how I’d done it, but I didn’t remember doing it.

I kept getting interrupted though. There were all these people there, and they kept dragging me away to other things. Moving furniture, showing this, looking at that. There was some woman who’d come and wanted to see the basement, so I took her down, all while wanting to be working on my floor. She remarked on a neat stand thingy that was taking a decorative space beside the spiral stairs to the basement. Then she pointed out a brick box (a box made of bricks) in the closet that had my “cursed vase” in it. It was a black vase (not unlike one my ex had been given at one point) and the lady said something about how it was in there “talking away to itself”.

Then I was back upstairs happily pulling more track and laying more floor....