Mark Hunter (ozma914) wrote,
Mark Hunter

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Snow, Fringe, and bizzarro dreams

This week's schedule has been a disaster. On a related note, I hurt my back shoveling snow. Who didn't see *that* coming? We only got five or six inches of snow -- the heavy stuff, but what's my back going to do when we get a *real* snowstorm?

I did get some writing in, thanks to Emily being back in college and me getting distraction-free writing time at the IPFW library. That's why I haven't been online -- I could use her password to go wireless, but that would be the end of the writing. I took a break from the fire history book to write a Fringe fanfiction, which will probably go up next week after Emily has had a chance to beta it for me. I figured I might as well dive into one of my favorite running shows before the inevitable Friday night Fox massacre that makes it one of my favorite canceled shows.

Then there's the weird dream from this morning:

I woke up in my bed, with the oddest feeling that I must be running late for work. The alarm clock read about 6:45 and I had to get up at 10:30, but I knew somehow it was wrong.

When I made my way downstairs, I discovered that every time I approached a light switch something odd would happen. Either the light didn't come on at all, or it dimmed or blinked, or it came on before I even touched the switch. There were ceiling fan style chains hanging all over the place, and every time I got near one it would swing toward me, like metal toward a magnet.

My daughter and one of her best friends showed up just then, and Jillian said, "Dad, do you have iTunes on your computer?"

"Yes ..."

"Can we borrow it to play music outside?"

"Okay, but don't tell anyone."

Despite the loud TV playing in the living room, I heard something going on in my office and opened the door. That's where the dream deviated from my normal house: Instead of my small office I found a much larger room with a big screen TV inside. There my future son-in-law, Vinny, was playing videogames with some guy I didn't know. "Do you know what time it is?"

Without glancing at the watch on his wrist, the other guy said, "Between five-thirty and five-forty-five."

"Oh, yeah? Your watch is only accurate to within 5:30 and 5:45?" (Even while asleep I can be snarky.) "Hey, come here and look at this,"

They stepped into the living room, where I reached out for the ceiling fan chain. (We don't have a ceiling fan in the living room.) Sure enough, it swung toward me. Everyone (Jillian, Vinny, and their friends) started congratulating me, and they all reached forward to pat me on the shoulder. Like a release of static electricity, I felt the power flow away from me, and when I reached out again the chain just hung there. With a collective "that's too bad" shrug, everyone turned and went off.

At that moment a young blonde girl, wearing pajamas, walked into the living room. Giving me an impish grin, she reached out to turn the TV off. "Wait a minute," I told her, "tell Jillian we have boom boxes she can use". (Do they still make those?) The girl ignored me and walked out, so I turned off the TV and, still protesting that we had portable stereos, I followed after her.

Outside, I found her standing with my daughter. My laptop was on the grass, and as I looked at it I realized that I'd been wrong about the time, and that it was hours before I had to wake up.

Then I woke up. I laid there, relieved that I had lots of time to sleep, and within two minutes my alarm clock started going off. It was 10:30.

So, yeah, that's my dream, and it was much less disjointed than most. Emily's theory is that having that special power, then losing it to the touch of others, signifies that I have a gift, but I'm afraid that if I reveal it to others I'll lose it. That makes sense, as I've always had the oddest feeling that if a lot of people start reading my writer they'll all discover I'm a fake.

The blonde girl? Dorothy Gale, of the Oz books fame. Earlier that day I saw a bumper sticker on a car that featured an Ostrich, along with the name Henry Gale. I don't know what the sticker meant, but that's the name of Dorothy's uncle, which probably triggered that dream. How about it, dream experts? Did we get it right?

Tags: charis, dorothy gale, emily, jillian, oz, weather, writing

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