little miss messy hair
better like umbrellas

no psychoanalysis please

it’s another dream report.

i’m riding on a flat-bed with my family and we reach our destination of a roman estate. then we’re inside, in a convenience-type store, getting food. I am looking around, not hungry. They even have creamies and i don’t even want any of those. Quite a statement there. My dad comes up to me with a slice of pizza with sausage and pepperoni on it for me. i ask him what exactly am i supposed to eat on that, the bit of crust over on one side that doesn’t have meat on it? i tear off that little chunk and wave it at him. somehow, i end up holding the slice of pizza and then i throw it at him for making me take it when he knows i don’t want it. after this bout of teenage bliss, i grab a big, square pizza from one of the freezers and leave, running to hide. Now i am inside a larger store, trying to decide whether it would be better to hide in the office supplies or the action figures. my sister ends up finding me and is, of course, mad at me for running off. we go back to out ‘rooms’, we are in the roman estate again now, and we’re in the process of packing. everyone in the estate is: there is something coming and although we know what it is, i can feel that, in retrospect i am not sure what it was. i’m helping my neice and nephew decide which “little people” set to take and then i am trying to put in my contact and something keeps causing me to drop it, though i usually catch it before it is on the ground. there is a dog nearby who i know will eat my contact if he gets it. i know that one of the roman gods is the one messing with my contact and, as i put my contact back in its case and fill the well with solution (my dad had warned me by this time not to attempt putting the contact in, to wait until we were away from the estate), a ringlet of blue is formed in the contact where the solution has risen, but left an air pocket still in the center of the contact and, since this is obviously a sign representing the Caesar, i call out in a sarcastic voice, “how very caesarian of you!” I am still angry about this and working on packing and getting ready and i know that these roman gods are working against us. i am then holding a silver bracelet made of a thin, silver chain and then a slightly thicker, curved, silver bar, about an inch in length with a slight pattern. the rumor is that when you rub this bar you can call upon these roman gods and there is a legend, or is it a memory of mine, of a girl who foolishly tried this, and going through a list of god names had the bar start heating when she got to a certain god. the name apollo keeps coming to me and that could have been the one who caused the bar to heat. i know that this god is trying to vex me and i throw the bracelet and yell “you are a god of jealousy and SPITE!” The word ‘spite’ echos in the halls.

i awoke angry and upset.

One Response to “no psychoanalysis please”

  1. gravatar Barb says:

    Oh, but the itch to pull out the book on interpreting dreams is a strong one…

spill it