Dream 2:

I guess my Unconscious still had something to say.

From this point forth, this blog is strictly Dreams, or nothing worth.

My dream was a long and elaborate one.

Yet what stands out is of course the last scene. Mother and Father had agreed with some persons unnamed to administer a lethal injection shot to a dying dog. They referred to this dog by some name I never heard before, so I could no more remember it then than I can recall it now. This dog I’d never even SEEN before, apparently. And the old, dying dog was absent. There was only Pumpkin, who scurried about like “what are you worried about?” But I began to panic.

I had to ensure that the name was not merely a euphemism for Pumpkin. My parents, who were high at the time, could no more supply me with a straight answer than could Spooge or his wife. Finally, I saw the evidence. The pale, aging white dog that was to be made a casualty was brought in to be euthanized. But by this point my Mother was agitated. I tried to calm her, assuring her that now that I had the evidence I was no longer haunted by the question. I was really pleading with her, asking her with fear and trembling, hiding behind a diplomatic smile, to assure me that Pumpkin would be safe. She did not answer. She accepted a needle from Father.

Exasperated and high-pitched, as though inviting guests to Laughter, I assured myself with outspoken conviction that they were not euthanizing Pumpkin. He was healthy. After all:

They wouldn’t kill him out of rage towards me.

And certainly not to SPITE me for trying to protect him, when it was THEY that had made the matter so ambiguous! They could accuse me of self-righteousness all that they wanted. It was only my ego, after all.

Just do not hurt my beloved, Venutian Friend. That was all. Surely they were not such drug-induced fiends and narcissists that any seemingly unprovoked suspicion on my part could produce such cruelty on theirs.

Yes: maybe I had come across as “self-righteous”. But how much more severe is he who is so pious in his self-image that he would allow an innocent and confused animal to DIE before my very EYES as punishment for questioning his intentions for even a moment! No one so close to me would do it. Who would pardon him for turning my deepest fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy? Even at my most desperate moments, I could not have conceived of it.

And I would not have dreamt it had I not witnessed it. Only in Actuality it was not my parents’ doing. And it was not my dog that died. This strikes me as interesting, however: that I thought the dog was euphemized. But my dog might have been euthanized. It’s all most [as] though to do one is to beget the Other. Pretending that something tragic is all right is the first and last step.

Dm.A.A.