On Wanting More

Feel free to skip this post; I’m just musing. I could have done without this one too. (Though it did feature a rare appearance by my husband, who generally remains solidly in the real world and avoids my dreams like the confusing and often frightening phantasms they generally are).

I dreamed last night that some random creepy guy invaded my house. I guess in the dream my husband and I were living with my parents (or more likely vice versa) and the RCG made it quite clear to all of us that he was there. And then we all left for work (which also is not really in character – for my folks or me). And he waved goodbye. Bastard. I think we convinced my parents to leave and stay gone until we got this all sorted out. Anyway, I was thinking we should go to my aunt’s because she has a lot of connections with city government people and whatnot, but for some reason Jared talked me into going to the museum. The art museum. (I don’t remember what we did there, except I broke a large mirror and slid down the stairway, both of which caused an equal amount of consternation among the staff.) But by the time we left, Jared had found out all about the RCG – he had worked with Dad and took offense at something Dad said, so he decided to invade our house as an “I’ll show him” measure. And Jared figured it all out, how we would handle getting rid of him, what we’d say or do or whatever. And I woke up (it was around six) to let the cats out before we got a chance to follow through with it – still stark terrified, but relieved because there Jared was, sleeping right next to me, able to handle it. (Then I became more properly awake and wondered why we didn’t just shoot the intruder to begin with. In the dream, I actually did try to call 911, but I guess I misdialed because I ended up on the phone with some telemarketer. And I’m like, “I’m trying to call 911! This is an emergency! I don’t care how great a deal it is! Now is NOT THE TIME!”) Anyway, then I went back to sleep and for whatever reason it was still the same situation, but I guess the time I wasn’t paying attention hadn’t been good to our Random Creepy Guy, and he was now a little bit more around the twist. And then there were the problems with the Martian Mafia who were primarily after him, but wouldn’t begrudge the opportunity to hack and slice their way through the rest of us if it was presented. And somehow the house – which was quite cool, as dream houses go, lots of flowers and whatnot – was now in the desert. And I had a sister who lived with us. A sister? Yeah. Anyway, the RCG ended up pushing my sister off a cliff. And she was rescued by Superman. (Superman?) Who then wrote her a nice if mostly incomprehensible letter – with most of the words out of order, especially at the beginning – that strongly implied that she was his daughter. What? But we were all so glad she was alive. Unfortunately, I woke up before finding out what happened to the Random Creepy Guy. I just hope he finds something else to do by the time I go back to sleep tonight.