Dream 20040312, 7:20 AM:
I don’t remember much about the plot of the front end of this dream. I remember sitting at a window, and holding a small, chocolate colored dog covered with curly hair, like a poodle. It’s still partly a puppy, I think, but mostly grown. From time to time, instead of making actual dog noises, it “says” them… like a person would say “growl” or “woof.” It makes me laugh. It’s like a parrot talking, though – there’s not a sense that it understands what it’s saying. Then, out of the blue, it says, “The curly butt wants to get fucked!” I laugh out loud, and call Chris over. Somehow I make the dog say it again, and Chris and I both roar with laughter. The dog lies there smiling and wagging its tail.
Then, I am in one of those combination spaces that I get in dreams – it seems like I’m on the roof of the Kingwood house, but also in a living-room like space. There is a group of people here, sitting around in a circle. There is some ritual that we pass around from person to person; it involves lighting a candle or something similar that each person holds. For some reason, they decide to break the pattern, and the woman who would have been the next to receive the flame slumps forward as if unconscious. Then, while she is still slumped forward, another image of her bounces up from across the circle. I remark that she is still here, so that must be her spirit over there – she’s gone out of her body through the change in the ritual. This happens to two or three more of the participants, until everyone is present in spirit and separately slumped unconscious in their chairs. We all get up and go wandering, just the spirit selves, in a group. Then, I notice more members of the group, including one stunning tall long-haired blond, walking down the street. We meet them in the front yard (now, definitely that of the Kingwood house) and walk up to the house. I am talking to the group as I step up to a wall beside the door, and draw a tall door-shaped arch on the brick with my fingertip. There is a threshhold-like board at the base of the door outline, and I draw letters on it; they’re not in any sort of magical language, though, it’s just something in English, like “Please let me go through this door.” The people are watching over my shoulder, and it feels almost as if I’m doing this more for their benefit than because of necessity. When I’m finished with the writing, I push on a single brick on the left-hand side of my door outline, and then push on the right-hand side of the door area, and it swings inward. The edges follow the edges of whole bricks, so that it has a toothed look on the sides. We walk through. I remark that I’m almost never able to get through this door, and I’m glad to be here. The room that we enter is dark, but in a mood-lighting sort of way, not a creepy or obscured way. It is like a restaurant, and the further in we go, the more restaurant-like it is, with lots of tables of people and wait-staff going back and forth. I realize, for some reason, that I’m dreaming – I don’t remember anything cluing me in. I see Cyn. F. at one of the tables, and recognize her – I say hello. She looks upset. I look around, and realize that *everyone* sitting at the tables, are people that I know or recognize. I say something about seeing Cyn., and she is upset. I remark that she’s just a reflection of an aspect of my personality, and doesn’t really have a life independent of my imagination; after all, this isn’t Cyn,. it’s my mental image of her. She gets angry with this. I point out that it’s true for all the people here – none of them are real people, they’re just part of my mental symbology. Then, I wake up.