Last night I dreamed I was outdoors in a lightly wooded area, and I made friends with a deer. The deer (who was genderless) transformed into a new creature when it befriended me, and this was a little, furry white animal called Kittymouse. Kittymouse was the size and approximate shape of an opossum, but with cat ears and long fur, and without those creepy rodent feet or tail. I loved to pet Kittymouse, and Kittymouse loved to play fetch: I would throw a long stick, and Kittymouse would scramble after it and bring it back — not only to me, but to my right side, so it’d be easier for me to throw it again. All my other friends loved Kittymouse too.
One day Kittymouse started hacking and coughing up blood and bits of pink kitchen sponge, and I gasped and cried because I knew Kittymouse was dying. I wanted to get help, but Kittymouse said, “No, I must find you a new Kittymouse to be your friend.” And off it went on a very determined quest, me trailing behind in despair: “But Kittymouse… you’re the only Kittymouse I’ve ever heard of!” I woke up then.
I’ve been having a lot of odd dreams this week. A few nights ago I dreamed I was trying to escape a serial killer. I had him cornered in a big space that was simultaneously the ocean and someone’s empty garage/warehouse, and managed to get close enough to him to stab at his chest (his sternum, really) repeatedly with a pair of haircutting scissors. My attempts were very weak and the scissors were a terrible weapon (especially since I was aiming at his sternum), but finally, through sheer repetition, he seemed to expire. I gave a sigh of relief and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. But while I was there, I got a creepy feeling, and turned and stared at his reclining body. Nothing happened. I returned to washing my hands, but the feeling persisted, and I stared at it again. Finally, I saw breathing, and knew he had only been faking — and now he was a more dangerous enemy than ever.
I’ve had a lot of dreams like this, where I’m trying to get away from an adversary and can’t. Usually I run away and they keep finding me; while I was reading Harry Potter, I cast spells on them or on myself, but they kept fizzling out, so I had to flee anyway. For this particular dream-opponent to appear to die and then come back to life is pretty par for the “apparently escaped but not really” course. But I think this was my first encounter in which I actually physically attacked the guy. Does this mean I’m facing my fears a little more head-on now?
At any rate, thank god I don’t act out my dreams.