To Shovel Snow, Perchance To Dream

I had a pretty busy morning yesterday and my blog was the one thing I didn’t get to. All before 8:15, when I started working, I straightened up the kitchen, which involved emptying the dishwasher and refilling it, washing the non-dishwasherable items by hand, shoveling the driveway of the between 2 and 3 inches of snow with a broken shovel because the other one mysteriously disappeared, showering, and going to the grocery store for a few necessities.

I had a curious snafu with my computer the day before. All of a sudden, it shut down and when it came back up, I could not get into any website that required a sign in, ie, my work, my email. The homepage of my work sign in had a certificate authenticity warning and after I would sign into my email, the homepage of which was intact, gave me the same warning. I shut down numerous times and called the help desk at work. She told me what to do to get in so I could work, but didn’t recommend I plunge ahead like that for other websites. By looking around at different things, I discovered clock wasn’t right. I hovered over it and further discovered I’d stepped back into time. It was 2004. I reset the whole thing and I was able then to access my email and everything else I couldn’t up until that point.

Let me see if I can tell you that dream real quick. I was at some sort of either convention or trade show; the setting was rather warehousey, with boxes and wooden crates all over the place. There was a focal point sectioned off by some crates and things and people were milling about inside. All women. The turned their focus on me and told me I belonged in that area because my name had been drawn and I entered the area with no idea of what was going on. Suddenly, in that marked off area there appeared a bed, of sorts, with a woman lying virtually motionless. She was dressed in a heavy purple cable knit turtleneck sweater and snug black slacks and her hair was in a tightly curled medium afro. Apparently she was dying and those of us who were gathered in this boxed off section were to be the equal recipients of her money. Each of us had some “alone” time with her, I guess she wanted to know who she was giving her money to, but that one on one time was in that same area however, somehow, it was exclusive; we couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see us. Finally, it was my turn and sat on the bed next to her. She spoke softly, but I couldn’t make out anything she was saying. Her eyes were closed and I had the feeling she knew each person individually. I strained to hear what she was saying; I didn’t know if they were instructions or conditions for getting the money, or just incoherent babble. Then, with that knowledge you have in dreams sometimes, I knew the final words I heard her speak were directed mainly at me, words she hadn’t said to any of the other recipients. She said, “My eyes are the mirrors to your soul”. I knew that was incorrectly said, but as she said it, I was drawn to her as she added, “Look into my eyes.”. I leaned forward and could see her eyes had become two quarter-sized mirrors and just before I could peer into them, I woke up.

And then we had the nutty newts’ confused take on American Idol last night. But I think they managed alright.

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2 Responses to “To Shovel Snow, Perchance To Dream”

  1. A. R. Fuentes Says:

    That’s some dream. If it continues, it could make a good scary short story….

    • brianksigley Says:

      All the dreams I’ve been having lately could combine to make a full length novel, about someone who goes in search of the meanings behind his nightmares.

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