Normally I'm not afraid of the dark. Usually once I'm curled underneath my comforter I zonk out for six to eight hours and don't wake up until my stereo starts blaring music. I'm not concerned about monsters under my bed or Mr. Big running the night away on his wheel or offkilter dreams.
The dreams I had a few nights ago may alter my sleep cycles a bit, though. Because maybe I should be the tiniest bit concerned about what Mr. Sandman blesses me with.
One particular dream I had involved me working for an apartment property full of houseboats. I was walking around the decks, doing my thing when I came across a really old guy. Like, really old. Like, crusty and wrinkled and hunched over. He was pounding on a door to a houseboat and when he saw me he stopped and asked if I could help him to collect a debt from one of my residents. I explained that I don't get involved in residents' affairs and went on my way. He went back to pounding on the door. Or so I thought.
I then enter my office. The office was an old Victorian-style mansion filled with gilded oil paintings, ornate decor and elaborate furniture. As I walking through the ornamented hallway I heard a sound, a cross between a warble, a battle-cry and a screech. I turn around to see where it was coming from just in time to see Crotchety Old Guy sprinting through the hall, ready to headbutt me. He runs into me and tries some kung-fu fighting moves on me. I panic and kick into "fight or flight" mode. Instead of running, I kung-fu kick him in the chin then get him into a headlock, Charlies' Angels style. The fight ensues.
When I woke up, my sheets were tangled around me, I was sprawled all over my bed, my heart was racing and my breath was staggered, like I had participated in real smackdown.
Somehow I managed to fall back asleep after that, but my dreams weren't much better. I dreamt I was dating a redneck hick and I suggested that we get married. Right then. I appear in a poufy white monstrosity of a dress, my beau attends the ceremony in ripped jeans and a stained NASCAR shirt. I woke up as I was walking down the aisle, short of breath from those images as well.
I haven't had time to think about the meanings behind the dreams since they occurred. I'm a big believer in dream analysis and psychoanalysis and subconscious meanings and desires. I may need to do some Google searching tonight. But maybe some soul searching is more in order if I'm dreaming of kicking old guy ass and marriage to rednecks.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~