Verre

I'm in the kitchen with my husband and one of the cats. A TV or monitor (neither of which is in the kitchen in WL) is advertising a website called "soundandspeed.com." I make a note of it, because it looks like it will be a useful place to pick up Christmas gifts.

The cat is dashing around like a maniac: she runs up to me as if she wants to be cuddled, then runs away again as if afraid. I'm lying on the floor at this point so grab her and put her under my head, like a fluffy pillow, which calms her a bit.

The kitchen is full of spiders of all sizes. At one point I step in something that crackles like dry leaves, but I feel something wet on my foot (I'm just wearing socks) and notice that what I stepped in was the carcass of an enormous spider, at least two feet across. The legs have dried out into husks, the source of the crackling sound, but there is apparently some residual moisture in the body cavity, which is what got on my foot. I feel a surge of disgust.

There is another large dead spider by the door leading outside, this one about eight inches across. It is flattened, which makes me think I must have accidentally stepped on that one earlier.

The spiders seem to have come along with stuff that we brought in from the garage. There are also cobwebs and dead leaves clinging to the boxes. I'm not happy about this. I see a spider that I suspect to be a black widow, and as I go toward the sink to grab rubber gloves so that I can crush it, I see another spider on the edge of a crate that is clearly a brown widow. (Both black and brown widows are actually quite commonplace outdoors where I live in WL, so this is not an unusual experience.) Should I kill it? I remind myself that I've decide not to kill the brown ones since they are less dangerous than the black, but I can't have it living in the house, so I decide to trap it and put it outside.

"This is an infestation of spiders," I think, as I go to the cupboard to get a glass. I ponder the word "infest" as I choose a glass of a suitable size and shape for trapping the spider. Next I need a stiff but thin piece of paper to cover the opening once the spider is inside, and I notice a piece of mail on the counter that will do the trick. As I reach for it, I notice a dead branch propped up on the counter, occupied by another strange-looking spider. It is glossy black with the red markings of a black widow, but the red forms a splotch rather than an hourglass shape. The spider itself looks oddly inflated, almost perfectly round as though it might burst. I look more closely and see a ring of tiny spiders, its young, circling around it. I decide I had better get rid of this one before worrying about the brown widow, so I grab the branch and take it outside.

I throw the branch over the wall of my patio into the bushes, silently wishing that the spiders will have a good life—so long as they stay out of my house. Meanwhile, I notice that the surroundings look a bit different than usual; the neighbors appear to be living in an RV rather than their house, and the bushes are more sparse than they should be. As I start walking back to my house, the realization comes very naturally: I'm dreaming.

I remind myself that I should begin a task in order to help maintain dream awareness, so try to think of what to do. No personal goals come to mind, so I think about the TOTMs and remember the one with the phone. That seems a good one to pursue, under the circumstances.

I begin by imagining that my phone is right in front of me on top of the wall and ringing. It doesn't immediately manifest, so I decide I need to build expectation: the phone must be ringing in the house. I dash back as though I already hear it and don't want to miss the call. Bursting through the kitchen door, sure enough, I see my phone on the counter. Although it is not making an audible sound, the screen is lit up with an incoming call, so I quickly grab it and push the button.

I hear the voice of a polite-sounding young man with a Middle Eastern accent. He is already talking, and sounds like he was in the middle of leaving a message when I took the call.

"Hello?" I interrupt.

The man doesn't seem to hear me at first, and continues with his message. There was more to it, but this is the part I can remember: "—honey and sweetness. Despite Middle Eastern rituals and invocation of Far Eastern gods, we regret to inform you that—"

"I'm here! I'm here!" I insist. Finally I get his attention. He states my name. "Yes?" I ask.

"What is your opinion of our company's business practices?"

The question mystifies me, because I still have no idea who he is or what company he represents, so I inquire, "What is it that you do?"

Instead of answering directly, he asks, "What do you think about your reduced number of intimid—?"

He was interrupted by the sudden dispersal of the dream. My impression was that the last word was going to be "intimidating," but "intimate" is another possibility. Unfortunately, neither one adds much clarity to whatever it was he was about to say!