Carabas

A newly-made vampire is sitting in a car parked in a garage early in the morning, and is refusing to get out of the car because he's afraid of the patches of sunlight in the garage, he's sure he won't be able to avoid touching them. He's a full-grown man, blonde, bearded, looks Scandinavian in ancestry. The driver, his maker, a dark-haired woman, is calling him a big baby and telling him he'll just have to take his chances.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

IRL friend S. is working with a theater company connected to a shop, which stocks videos of their shows although those videos are out of the way and most customers don't realize the shop and the theater company are connected. They're talking about having to close down (not sure if this refers to the theater company or the shop or both).

A traveling woman reporter is commenting on some serial killer with an MO related to books, and observing that his trail coincidentally matches up with her travel patterns, she's joking about being suspected herself.

A man and his daughter in a forest, the man had some oath with a bird, representative of the forest, and now there's a deer leg wrapped in parcel paper lying on the ground by their camp, violating that oath. He didn't kill or butcher the deer, that was someone else, but the parcel paper was his, borrowed, and this is going to lead to misunderstanding and enmity between him and the bird. The man and his daughter are leaving, she's objecting because it's not their fault but he insists that they don't argue, just go.

I'm in my IRL mother's home, and ranting to her about that previous scene, which is now thought of as a Bible story. I'm opposed to its message - the final moral and point of the story is different, but this scene here, designating man as something separate from nature, is something I'm deeply frustrated by and I don't care that it's not the focus, I consider it irresponsible storytelling.

My mother's deeply religious Christian IRL neighbor is visiting her with his two sons (the neighbor does have two sons IRL, but these two DCs bear no resemblance to them). Although he's not offended, he says that I should focus on the main message of the story instead. I had no intention of starting a religious debate and am happy to let the subject drop. His youngest son, on the other hand, has gotten angry and wants to prove the point to me. I find fanaticism attractive on him. I'm aware he's both attracted to and deeply uncomfortable with me, thoughts about queer issues and gender issues on my mind. He comes to the window where I've been standing and lifts a rock outside and throws it into a tree. (With his mind, apparently - there was some awareness that this was dream logic, and that if we'd been outside he would have just used his hands.)

The conversation moves on to safer topics but I pull him aside, ask him what that was meant to prove. We go outside so he can finish making his point. He leads me over to his father's yard and shows me a hedge covered in red berries concealing a small tunnel leading underground. He seems afraid, but he says he's determined to make me a believer. He's so worked up about this I don't have the heart to tell him I'm already a believer, just not his variety of believer - this isn't the atheism-vs-theism debate he thinks it is - but that's all right. I'm still thinking about queer/gender issues when I get into the tunnel ahead of him.

In the tunnel, I'm a girl (who, in the dream, I thought of as resembling the oldest Narnia girl - she doesn't particularly, but this scene reminds me of 80's fantasy movies in general) crawling on my hands and knees, while the boy with me is sitting on the grass outside, worrying. The dream 'camera' briefly switches to 3rd person, allowing me to see the boy, myself, and just around a bend in the tunnel, a door, open just a crack, showing a dimly lit room with a woman dancing inside, the Queen, and it's the inhumanly beautiful Queen I want to get a glimpse of, although the boy is convinced this is a bad idea. Back to 1st person, I reach the door, peer through and see an image as if the dream 'camera' has zoomed in, focused on the Queen's lips painted so dark they're nearly black, her throat, her decolletage, and an awareness of ornaments of frozen drops of water or tears, telling myself I must remember every detail of this.

There's either a false awakening or a partial-awakening where I'm lying in bed 'recording' this dream, only to realize that I'm not physically writing anything, after which I actually did wake up and 'continue' writing right where I'd 'left off', the part where the boy threw the rock.