Batch

10-03-2012 -- [In both dreams tonight I have had the odd situation of a single scene that connects to nothing in the middle of my dream, interrupting the flow of the main dream. I have decided to start making note of these little bits, though I have no idea why they are there. They are like an incredibly short micro dream just plopped in the middle of another dream, willy nilly.]

I've stepped outside at the Hickory house about mid-evening (perhaps 9:30 PM or so) and am walking toward Crescent, though I only get as far as David's house. Somehow there are flashes in the corner of my eye, almost like little gnats buzzing around me, except every once in a while I catch a glimpse of one, and they are tiny, hail-sized, pale little meteors dropping to Earth.

I turn around to head back to my house, but right in front of my house there is a small, short road divider that has never been there before, and is half-invisible that won't allow me to turn into my drive way. (I was walking, but suddenly I am in a vehicle.) When I reach the house next door, I find I can turn here, but it is a rough, home-made turn lane that Conrad has made because he doesn't like the divider in the road. [These are tiny residential streets where there has never been a divider, and one wouldn't fit.]

As I turn in, I glance over at the Goodwin's house, and they are standing on the lawn with a bunch of people. They seem to be having a Christmas party or something. Suddenly my car is gone, and I am in their garage, where I am talking to their flying demon maid. She is slim, slightly attractive, and constantly hovering about a foot off the ground. She wants to give me something, and is trying to find it, but there is a bicycle that is moving along side her and keeping her from reaching the part of the garage she wants to look at. She is starting to get mad at it.

Soon she moves far enough forward that she can see everybody in the front yard and they can see her, so she has to give up on finding whatever it is, and go help with the party. I just walk back to my house and head inside. I am soon sitting at the kitchen table and trying to get something to eat. It is difficult though, as mom is screaming at me. I have no idea why, or what about, but she is going on and on. I've had enough, and walk back outside, hoping to get away from her, but she follows me into the front yard.

I have had enough, and tell her so. I tell her I have enough to deal with right now, including dodging meteorites that seem to be trying to hit me (as I shift to avoid a three inch one that burns a hole in the screen door). She doesn't believe me at first, but several more stones drop around me, including one that is three feet thick, which after I dodge it, it hits the house twice before landing in the flower bed.

I run off next door to the Conrad yard, and I see that the Goodwins' guests are leaving. The first to leave looks exactly like George Jefferson, though I somehow know he is the Reverend Philadelphia Thrower [a decidedly white character from the Orson Scott Card Alvin Maker series]. He's been thrown out, and is very mad about it. Unfortunately, he starts to bubble and dissolve before me. All of the other guests that I can see slowly start to do the same thing. Some of them, about the time they start to smell the fumes from the other dissolving people. Something is wrong here! I hold my breath and run toward the Goodwins'.

Somewhere around here is where I have the brief non-connected scene. I am in a gas station that I am pretty sure I have done a few dream mystery shops in, it the past few months. It is late at night, there is almost no business, and I am trying to find a box of chewy Lemonheads candy, but they seem to be temporarily sold out.

I make my way into the Goodwin's kitchen, where Marv & Barbara are standing around talking about how successful the party was, and snacking on plates of leftover food. I rush in and explain how their guests are all dying and melting away, and I don't think they believe me at first. Marv adds a dollop of sour cream to his plate, and it starts to bubble and hiss, and his face starts going pale and blotchy. I scream out a warning for him to hold his breath, and thankfully he listens to me as he throws away the plate.

I have no idea why this has happened or just what is going on, but they are now telling me I have saved them, and they want to reward me. Somehow I have just taken a pee in a very open, un-private restroom in the front hall, but I really need to take a poop, and for that I need more privacy. I tell them I need no reward, but I could really use a bathroom. They point me to the guest bathroom, and I comment that in the old days when I was here all the time, I would have remembered where it was.

[Don't know why it was a problem remembering ... except for my second bedroom being a pantry in their house, the layout was the exact same as mine. At least until they added on the den.]

I walk to the bathroom, and Jeff has just exited it with the demon maid. She is putting him to bed, but tells me she'll be right back to give me what she wanted to give me. I walk into the bathroom, and oddly enough, the door is a pair of swinging saloon doors that leave the top and bottom open. Still not very private.

The toilet is kind of odd, too. It looks very futuristic, and it turns out there is a pile of feces already in the toilet. It seems to be firing jets of water at it to try and break it up and dissolve it, but it isn't working very well. The entire seat is wet, and soon it splashes a bit and the front of my pants are wet, and I just give up. I'll have to take a dump later!

As I exit the bathroom again, the maid meets up with me and hands me a cupcake cake. I don't know if this is a real life thing or a dream thing, but it is a tray of cupcakes with this odd sort of printed sheet of frosting on top, at least kind of like the frosting on a real cake. Printed on the frosting sheet is the cover of an Irma Bombeck book. [Bombeck is a housewife who wrote a slightly humorous newspaper column about kids and family. She occasionally combined columns together and published books of them.] As I am walking out of the house to walk home, the cake is turning into the actual book.