I can dream about you...
Lots of odd dreams lately, very intense at the time, but they fade quickly if I don't write them down. So I'll write this one down, as it seems to be sticking around longer. I'm sure it's very deep and meaningful.
I don't remember how it starts, but I'm in the backyard of the house I grew up in, in Wisconsin, but different as all dream places are. The yard was covered in snow. The house was white, the snow was white and gray and blue, and Mingus (my dog) was a black mark like the trees and other shadows. It was overcast and echoey and I was back there alone with the dog, no one around anywhere. I wanted Mingus to get inside. Suddenly the snow was mostly melted into knee-deep icy water. I waded toward the gray cement steps by the back door, trying to haul the dog with me. I slipped and fell, and the water was deeper, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get up again. The water was gray and heavy. I had on heavy winter clothes like we used to dress in for the snow: puffy red ski jacket and pants and heavy boots. I pushed Mingus up onto the steps. There was an open cardboard box of pictures and odds and ends on the porch as well, and I didn't want to knock them into the water. I pulled myself up onto the steps and made Mingus go inside the door, but before I could get my balance I fell back into the water, which was now very deep (but still somehow below the level of the steps). I didn't know if I'd be able to push myself off from the bottom to reach the steps. I could see up through the blue-gray water to where the steps were, to where Mingus was standing and barking and the box of stuff was precariously sitting, and I was trying to figure out how to get myself up and out of the water and not knock everything off the steps. I knew I didn't have a lot of time, because the water was cold and I didn't think I'd be able to move for very much longer. I pushed hard for the edge, reaching, running out of air, and that's when I woke up.
I know where a lot of it is coming from. And also I might have been a little stuffed up, which usually makes for the not being able to breathe dreams. It was pretty intense at the time, though, and the colors stuck with me, and the dizziness of it all.
I don't remember how it starts, but I'm in the backyard of the house I grew up in, in Wisconsin, but different as all dream places are. The yard was covered in snow. The house was white, the snow was white and gray and blue, and Mingus (my dog) was a black mark like the trees and other shadows. It was overcast and echoey and I was back there alone with the dog, no one around anywhere. I wanted Mingus to get inside. Suddenly the snow was mostly melted into knee-deep icy water. I waded toward the gray cement steps by the back door, trying to haul the dog with me. I slipped and fell, and the water was deeper, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get up again. The water was gray and heavy. I had on heavy winter clothes like we used to dress in for the snow: puffy red ski jacket and pants and heavy boots. I pushed Mingus up onto the steps. There was an open cardboard box of pictures and odds and ends on the porch as well, and I didn't want to knock them into the water. I pulled myself up onto the steps and made Mingus go inside the door, but before I could get my balance I fell back into the water, which was now very deep (but still somehow below the level of the steps). I didn't know if I'd be able to push myself off from the bottom to reach the steps. I could see up through the blue-gray water to where the steps were, to where Mingus was standing and barking and the box of stuff was precariously sitting, and I was trying to figure out how to get myself up and out of the water and not knock everything off the steps. I knew I didn't have a lot of time, because the water was cold and I didn't think I'd be able to move for very much longer. I pushed hard for the edge, reaching, running out of air, and that's when I woke up.
I know where a lot of it is coming from. And also I might have been a little stuffed up, which usually makes for the not being able to breathe dreams. It was pretty intense at the time, though, and the colors stuck with me, and the dizziness of it all.