Talking About Odd Dreams

With COVID a lot has changed. What we eat. How we socialize with people. Where and how we earn our daily bread. And how we dream.

I’ve always felt my dreams were a little more bizarre than normal. For one thing, being chased by monsters or space aliens has never been a nightmare but an adventure influenced, I’m sure, by television shows I grew up on like Star Trek and Doctor Who. For another, the likehood that anything I dreamt about could be easily explained to another has always been low. But now?

This morning I had a dream that I was on a motorcycle riding next to someone down a long dirt road with pastures of dry dirt on both sides. Ahead were two horse drawn carriages. I wanted to pass but they were riding side by side, very fast, so I couldn’t pass. Worse, there were now several cows racing behind them. So we veered our motorcycles into the pastures which were covered in so many cow pies we were bound to step in them (I was no longer on a bike at this point but walking and/or on a horse myself).

We finally reach the ranch where the carriages are headed. I meet two workers in the field but both are native Spanish speaking and I don’t remember how to say, “Parle vous Espanyal?” in Spanish. Someone else comes up and invites us into his house.

From there on a lot is a blur but it was clear we were stuck there until we could get this shit off the motorcycles and would have to wait for awhile. Meanwhile, in the house, I’m making a mess of things. Spaggeti sauce on the carpet. Mud all over some items we’ll be taking back. Little rescue critters everywhere (which has become a recent theme in my dreams). My hands are covered in some kind of yuck at all times and the guy tells me he’s old school and has no sink so it’s outside ot use the high power water hoses some of the workers are pointing at anything that’s covered in mud and shit and I can’t walk anywhere without the noxious mixture ending up on my feet.

Worse, depsite the owner’s hospitality, I’m mortified by the family and friends coming and going from the house–but no one is wearing a mask. At some point I decide, “Fuck it!” I’ve been there so long I’m likely infected with COVID by now and hell, it’s the first time I’ve been around people for so long I’m willing to let sanity go to the wind.

The dream must have gone on and off for several hours, as has become the norm for many of my COVID related dreams surrounded by anti-maskers. And it seems in my age, my dreams have often become obvious, both to me and those on the outside. Perhaps my brain is too bored with the monotony forced upon us by global circumstance. All I have to say, brain, is: Less cow pies, more hot sex fantasies!

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