Dear Diary . . . day by day

Thursday, December 2nd, 1999 - Weird dreams of shooting eggs

	Before I go into my dreams from last night (which were much more interesting than my real life, go figure), I want to say that Al's Entry on his son's funeral is incredible. My family and I were going through the same thing at this exact same time last year with my father's funeral, and I could not have written about it so eloquently if I'd tried (which I didn't). I remember being in such a fog of sleeplessness, mourning, confusion, socializing (thank you, you're so kind, thank you, I know, Thank you) and planning that the thought of sitting down and focusing on ANYTHING seemed impossible. His entry makes me wish I'd tried. What a beautiful thing. The Dream The first dream, or first half of the dream, took place in my Mom's house in Indy. For some reason, Mom was in the crawlspace, working on some home improvements (which makes sense, because Mom's been sending me emails detainling all the remodling she's been doing to the house). I was cat-sitting in the house above her. We needed to clear a space from one of the "entries" which in the dream was located under my Mom's bedside table. I approached this spot, followed by 6 or 7 cats (Mom has 8 total, including my Gryffyn) who were hell-bent on helping me and getting fur everywhere. I was moving magazines and books out of the way, when I uncovered a rattlesnake, who hissed at me and shook his rattle menacingly. Well, then it was a battle, keeping half a dozen cats from foolishly coming to my rescue. I stuffed Cymba and Portia down my shirt (ouch!) and grabbed Mittens, Gryffyn and Pippin under my arms. I had Charmin in check by using my "cat soccer" skills (usually used when trying to use an outside door and keep the cat inside). I managed to get the whole hissing bundle out of the bedroom and shut the door, when I heard a thumping and realized that Mom was trying to come up through that door that was guarded by the rattlesnake! I ran out of the house to help her and into the next part of the dream.... A bunch of women and men were being forced to "prove their fertility" by projecting eggs and sperm into a large wrought iron cage (like you would see at a dance or bondage club). We were standing around the outside, holding the bars and shooting eggs (or sperm, though I wondered at the time - and still do - how the guys were managing to shoot sperm w/out their hands...ahem) into the cage. Krista had one hand holding a bar and the other lassoing around her head and she shot egg after egg, shouting, "Yeeee-haaawww!". The eggs made the funniest Whoofmphing sound as they came out. Anyhow, then we had to reach down and gather our own eggs, then stand in line to present them to someone dictator-like and mean. I didn't like the look of my eggs; everyone else's were shaped like chicken eggs, but mine had no symmetry or any specific shape at all. I decided I didn't like the look of them and I liked even less what was going to happen to them (no, I don't remember what it was; I think it was a vague, evil threat), so I hurled them violently onto the ground, smashing all of them. Yes, they had yolks. I was whisked away, back to a bed covered in cat fur. There I was presented with a vial of urine by David. "What do you want me to do with your piss?" I asked him, confused and disoriented. He shot me a disgusted look, "Whatever." "What? Why don't you pour it out somewhere else?" He gave me a full-out reluctant whine and upended the vial over me and the bed. I shouted at him, "Steve! What are you doing?" (No, that's not a typo; I distincly remember being confused that his name was suddenly Steve, not David. He was still whining like David, he still looked like David....). Anyhow, then I woke up and stumbled a few steps to my little bathroom (little watercloset in my room that's 2.5 feet away from my bed). That's the nice part about being grownup. You wake up to pee.
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