People have been sharing their dreams. On WordPress, on Facebook, in person.
I’m fascinated by the inspiring dreams my friends have. I’ve had people share how they’ve written poems or stories after waking from a dream. At the very least, they have these epic – and hilarious stories – to tell.
I dream all the time, but my dreams are not the type that get the creative juices flowing. They are random, bizarre, and eccentric. Then again, I, and my life, can be random, bizarre and eccentric.
Just last night, I had a very vivid dream. I was bathing alone in a large bathhouse. It was like something the Romans would have built. Large, and sunny with mosaics on the walls, marble seating, and doors leading to different rooms.
It was peaceful and relaxing.
And then the squirrels came. First, there were a few squirrels at one of the chamber doors.
I couldn’t relax with their beady eyes staring at me. I wasn’t sure if squirrels could swim, but I couldn’t chance it. I scared them away.
Proud of myself, and, alone again, I settled back down to enjoy my bath. That was when the flying squirrel entered the scene. It came from above and started dive bombing me. While I was screaming and swatting at it, one of the other squirrels wrapped itself around my neck.
I could feel the fur as I struggled unsuccessfully to pull it off, all the time calling for my husband to help me.
No one came.
My dream didn’t even feature a handsome knight in shining armor (or not, I mean, it was set in a bathhouse and I am of legal age) coming to my rescue.
My alarm went off and woke me, thus, saving me from Watership Down, squirrel edition.
I’d like to say that this dream is unusual and that I don’t normally dream of rodent attacks. But we all know better.
I’m the woman who dreams of bathing with and battling squirrels.
Maybe I should start eating before bedtime?