Snacks From the Butler's Pantry

I always get the feeling there is someone in the room when I'm in SP, but this time it was strange because I was positive that David Hasslehoff was right behind me. I'm not a 'Hoff fan at all, and sort of forgot he even existed until he appeared in my room last night.

I step out of my bed (and out of my body), and walk out to the living room. It's too dark to see anything, and I can tell the dream is very unstable. I try to 'will' the lights to turn on, but I can feel the world slipping away when I focus too hard. In the darkness, I have this feeling like there is someone next to me who is about to attack me, and I'm worried this is about to become a nightmare. I run into the bathroom, hit the light switch, it doesn't work, but the lights are on anyways for some reason.

I keep worrying that there is someone next to me, just outside my vision, with a knife, and I know that the more I worry about it, the more it's going to come true. I turn quickly and turn him into someone non-threatening... My brother. When I see the mirror, I remember the task of the month, and decide to give it a try.

I lean across the counter toward the mirror, and inspect my reflection. It looks perfectly like me. I start to wonder if this is really a dream. It's so convincing, almost too detailed. Just then, my reflection winks at me, and I say out loud "Tight!". As I open my mouth to say it, I notice that my reflection has messed up Hillbilly teeth. I then also notice that he's wearing a white softball tee, with black 3/4 length sleeves.

I put my hand on the mirror to try to reach in, but the surface feels way too solid. I decide to try to pretend the mirror is not there, and try to reach through like it's a window. I put my had down, and then quickly reach up and right through the mirror to grab my reflection's shirt. When I hit the surface of the mirror, I get the most intense pain in my hand and arm. It feels like peeling off a really bad scab, or what I would imagine peeling the skin off your hand would feel like.

I pull my reflection forward, and he doesn't resist at all. He floats out of the mirror, and it seems like he's just a head and shoulders. I ask him "Why do we dream?". He smiles his hillbilly smile and says "I guess, at a certain point, we just need something to keep things interesting".

I let go of him, and he sort of refocuses back into the background of the mirror without moving. I sort of wonder if I hurt him pulling him out, since my hand hurt so bad going in.

I spend a bit more time flying around outside on the lawn, changing my size so I can fly between the blades of grass. Things go downhill from there. I find my dream journal to write the dream down. It's sitting in a sheep pasture, it's about 2"x2" in size, and is filled with mini travel photos. I end up having a picnic on the lawn where I argue about whiskey vs bourbon with some really bossy lady.