I don’t know about other couples, but I always hear talk about how a husband and wife are supposed to share their hopes and dreams with each other. I have always understood that to refer to sharing those things you would like to see happen in the future with your spouse not necessarily reporting on the odd things that occurred in your brain while asleep last night.
The Queen seems to have a different understanding of that concept. When she has a weird dream (which is almost nightly), she tells me all about it. And she has some real humdingers let me tell you.
We call it: The Dream Report.
First of all, I am amazed at the level of detail The Queen can recall about her dreams. I almost never remember my dreams; and, when I do, I usually only remember bits and pieces. Not The Queen. She can describe the entire scene and story to you down to the littlest details. And, usually, for more than one dream a night. I ran across a blog once written by a woman who would transcribe her husband’s nocturnal mumblings, and I thought about doing something similar for The Queen’s nocturnal cinema recap.
Anyway, I told you that to tell you this. I had a dream last night that I actually remembered. More or less. I thought I’d take a moment to share a dream report with you, my faithful readers. Why? ‘Cause I shouldn’t be only one stuck with it, and I’m a sharing type. Hence, the blog.
To start with, let’s set the scene. I’m pretty sure I was in England somewhere based on the architecture. I arrived at someone’s house which had a modest sized gold fish pond next to the front door where I was warmly greeted by Barkley (an adorable black lab who lives with Brigid of Home On The Range fame). Barkley proceeded to get up on his hind legs to give me a hug, and I handed my camera off to someone else to get a picture of us hugging. This anonymous someone managed to drop my camera into the gold fish pond while fiddling with the settings.
After that disappointment, we all went into the house. The living room was straight ahead from the foyer but was canted at an angle to the right with a large open kitchen to the right of the foyer opening into the living room as well. The living room had high, cathedral ceilings, and there were a bunch of folding chairs set up for a meeting of some kind. Several people were milling about talking with each other. I never did get to find out what the meeting was about as there was a gunshot fired from somewhere nearby, and everyone went outside to figure out what happened. There was a small, park like meadow or field right behind the backyard’s chain link fence. On the other side of the field was a building that I, at first, took for a barn with a peaked roof and a strange circular-ish stained glass window. The building, which was about 5 or 6 stories high when we got closer, turned out to be part of a complex of shops and businesses with sort of a “Sweeney Todd” feel to them if that makes any sense at all.
Then I woke up.
I have no idea from which depths in my brain this dream came from or why I was able to remember it. I think Barkley was present (even though I’ve never met him or his human in person) because I love black labs, and because of the recent loss an adorable black lab (the sweet and loveable Belle aka The Belly Dancer because of the way she would do a whole body wag when greeting people) who lived with the girl who The Queen nannied during her last incarnation as a gainfully employed working woman.
The rest of it…no clue.
I think I need a vacation. Or therapy.