a dreamer dreams she never dies

My Other and I laugh about how different our dreams are. Mine tend toward mostly boring Italian Neo-Realism-ish scenes set in combinations of places familiar to me, while his tend toward stark metaphor. It's pretty funny sometimes how obvious the representations are. For instance, and this is just an example, say his father got some medical news that while potentially serious is also early along enough to probably be dealt with easily. He might have a dream that night about bad men in black trying to take his father away.


But the same type of news I got yesterday caused me to have this psychedelic dream about a chipmunk berating me (telepathically? in a really deep voice?) about how he was misinformed about the policy of whether or not he was allowed to bring his favorite toy along (apparently he was, and apparently I'd told him he wasn't, and apparently he *really* missed his toy) and then he turned into this little white whirling dervish and bit my leg REALLY FUCKING HARD. Blood spewed out Monty-Python-style, and I woke up clutching my leg because as far as I was concerned, dream pain was real pain. Also, I was holding the JaneDog and protecting her from the psychotic chipmunk. It hurt, but at least I got to feel like a good mom.