I confess, I am a voyeur. I spy on birds by luring them in with feeders, birdbaths and flowers. The squirrels come even though I don’t try to lure them in.
A utility area near the house was filled in with stones recently. The squirrels began to check out the terracotta-color stones immediately.
Through my kitchen window, I saw a squirrel pick up a stone, examine it intensely, take a nibble on it, then throw it down. What a silly squirrel, he thinks that rock is a nut. Then he picked up another one and ran off with it.
I guess he took it somewhere safe to hide until it was ripe enough to crack. Maybe a windowsill or the garage. Or in the flower beds and shrubs where I find many of those rocks half buried.
One night I had a vivid dream of this squirrel activity. In my dream I picked up a stone and nibbled at it. Then I said to myself, “The squirrels are right, these stones taste good.” Most dreams I forget, but this one keeps running through my head. This must be a case of squirrelmorphism.
I’ll never forget the most vivid dream I ever had.
About a year ago, my computer screen was turning on at certain times during the day and night on its own. A few times, I woke up to an eerie machine light streaming down the hallway. I became convinced that someone was trying to look in or listen in on us. I don’t know why, since we are the most boring kind of people, but paranoia is not reasonable.
So back to my dream: In the middle of the night the computer screen flicked on. I woke up (in my dream) and started swearing at this disturbance. The light became more intense and the machine started to make noises as if to match my own yelling.
Then I heard fast and heavy footsteps come down the hallway to our bedroom. Because the computer screen lit the house quite well, I saw the owner of those loud footsteps enter the bedroom.
It was a short man, no taller than five foot five. He wore a robe and hood reminiscent of the times of Jesus. He came to the foot of our bed and aggressively waved a scythe over us. In the dream, I woke up but could neither scream nor utter one word even though I tried.
I guess this could have been death what with the robe and scythe and all. If it was, I didn’t feel the fear death should have inspired.
The scythe was ambiguous. The weapon appeared to be highly threatening and benevolent all at once. I came to feel that the scythe waving reminded me of a form of blessing. Instead of a priest waving his hand over me with a blessing, I got blessed with a sharp and potentially deadly instrument.
Go figure. I guess the computer holds just as much ambiguity.