dreams
Remembered two this morning. Yay!
In the first one, sevjun woke up, got packed, said goodbye and went camping at Opoeia for a week, came home, unpacked and climbed back into bed. I then woke up briefly (in real life), rolled over and saw her there asleep, and thought to myself "Awww, you're back :-)".
In the second one, I was friends with a guy who produced sitcoms for a living and owned snakes. He had one pet taipan that I became friends with. He showed me how to grab it behind the head so that it couldn't bite you. Then once it realised you were friendly, it would calm down and become docile.
I opened the door to his office and introduced him to two Chinese twins aged around five or six. They were very cute and charismatic and became the stars of his sitcom. In gratitude he gave me his taipan. Time is a bit mixed up here because I remember seeing them in the sitcom before I introduced them to him.
He was also an emergency room doctor at the small local hospital, which will become relevant shortly. We lived somewhere in a small regional city or an outlying semi-rural suburb.
I turned around from his door and I was in my bedroom. I went and sat down on my unmade bed. The taipan was under my sheets (with another, non-lethal snake I appear to have acquired) and startled, struck out from under the edge of the sheet, biting me over and over on the fleshy part between my thumb and index finger.
As soon as she realised it was me, she stopped biting and nuzzled up to my hand apologetically, licking and licking with her little tongue as if to say sorry and try and lick the poison away. I sat on the edge of my bed saying "It's OK, baby, it's OK" while realising that I was in Deep Shit here.
I remembered an article i had read with a timeline for the effects of a taipan bite. It had said 5 minutes to paralysis, and 25 minutes to death.
I went out of my room and I was in my parent's house. The phone was not in its customary place on the hallstand by the front door. I called out in frustration "Where the FUCK is the phone??" but no-one replied. I then yelled (in real life) "Can you hear me?", briefly waking myself and sevjun.
I saw the other phone on the bedside table in my parent's room. I think my mother was still alive in this dream. I grabbed it and dithered about calling a taxi to the nearby clinic, calling my doctor/sitcom producer/herpephile friend, or dialling 000. Realising that I was having trouble thinking or moving, I dialled 000, but when the operator replied I was having trouble speaking. I'd lost my voice and all that I could get out was breathy grunts with consonants in the right places.
So I went downstairs to my brother's flat. For some reason, he was E-ing, listening to happy hardcore and psytrance, wearing candy-raver wear and bopping around his lounge room. He seemed mildly annoyed that I was intruding on his luvdupness by lying on his floor, croaking and holding out the phone.
I managed to get out "Snaaaake. Bite. Baaad" but he couldn't make it out above his techno and boppy vagueness. So i dialled 000 again and gave him the phone. A little bewildered at finding himself speaking to a 000 operator and not quite sure what was going on, he tried semi valiantly and semi distractedly to get our collective shit together, without much success. In the end he went and grabbed a notepad from his kitchen and made me write it down. Somehow we summmoned an ambulance.
The last thing I remember before waking up is knowing that the ambulance was coming, and writing on the pad in a very shaky hand, "Don't let them kill her. I'll get a cage and gloves, I promise."
In the first one, sevjun woke up, got packed, said goodbye and went camping at Opoeia for a week, came home, unpacked and climbed back into bed. I then woke up briefly (in real life), rolled over and saw her there asleep, and thought to myself "Awww, you're back :-)".
In the second one, I was friends with a guy who produced sitcoms for a living and owned snakes. He had one pet taipan that I became friends with. He showed me how to grab it behind the head so that it couldn't bite you. Then once it realised you were friendly, it would calm down and become docile.
I opened the door to his office and introduced him to two Chinese twins aged around five or six. They were very cute and charismatic and became the stars of his sitcom. In gratitude he gave me his taipan. Time is a bit mixed up here because I remember seeing them in the sitcom before I introduced them to him.
He was also an emergency room doctor at the small local hospital, which will become relevant shortly. We lived somewhere in a small regional city or an outlying semi-rural suburb.
I turned around from his door and I was in my bedroom. I went and sat down on my unmade bed. The taipan was under my sheets (with another, non-lethal snake I appear to have acquired) and startled, struck out from under the edge of the sheet, biting me over and over on the fleshy part between my thumb and index finger.
As soon as she realised it was me, she stopped biting and nuzzled up to my hand apologetically, licking and licking with her little tongue as if to say sorry and try and lick the poison away. I sat on the edge of my bed saying "It's OK, baby, it's OK" while realising that I was in Deep Shit here.
I remembered an article i had read with a timeline for the effects of a taipan bite. It had said 5 minutes to paralysis, and 25 minutes to death.
I went out of my room and I was in my parent's house. The phone was not in its customary place on the hallstand by the front door. I called out in frustration "Where the FUCK is the phone??" but no-one replied. I then yelled (in real life) "Can you hear me?", briefly waking myself and sevjun.
I saw the other phone on the bedside table in my parent's room. I think my mother was still alive in this dream. I grabbed it and dithered about calling a taxi to the nearby clinic, calling my doctor/sitcom producer/herpephile friend, or dialling 000. Realising that I was having trouble thinking or moving, I dialled 000, but when the operator replied I was having trouble speaking. I'd lost my voice and all that I could get out was breathy grunts with consonants in the right places.
So I went downstairs to my brother's flat. For some reason, he was E-ing, listening to happy hardcore and psytrance, wearing candy-raver wear and bopping around his lounge room. He seemed mildly annoyed that I was intruding on his luvdupness by lying on his floor, croaking and holding out the phone.
I managed to get out "Snaaaake. Bite. Baaad" but he couldn't make it out above his techno and boppy vagueness. So i dialled 000 again and gave him the phone. A little bewildered at finding himself speaking to a 000 operator and not quite sure what was going on, he tried semi valiantly and semi distractedly to get our collective shit together, without much success. In the end he went and grabbed a notepad from his kitchen and made me write it down. Somehow we summmoned an ambulance.
The last thing I remember before waking up is knowing that the ambulance was coming, and writing on the pad in a very shaky hand, "Don't let them kill her. I'll get a cage and gloves, I promise."