Vivid Dream

I had a very memorable dream last night.

It started off nicely enough, I was building and installing some of my new scarecrow stuff in the backyard of some folks that I went to elementary school with (it is a dream, don't question it). I got the new 'crow up, and for good measure, set up my scarecrow from last year for ambiance. I thought that it looked good. I went to bed happy. When I got there the next day, however, my stuff was in tatters.

Evidently, somebody from the neighborhood planning committee thought that my work was too scary and decided to take it down. I went ballistic. I remember being so angry in my dream that I could barely contain myself. The lady who made the decision to take it down was the stereotypical fear-driven book-banning suburbanite elder, and I remember that the desire to punch her in the face was very strong.

Not only did they destroy me new 'crow when they took it down, they SAWED MY OLD ONE IN HALF. For no apparent reason. Then they buried it in the woods. I was pissed. I was yelling. I might have even been murmuring in my sleep I was so angry. I made them tell me where it was so that I could go dig it up and repair it.

I woke up this morning contemplating how to put my scarecrows back together again. It took until the end of my shower for me to realize that it was a dream. I guess the moral of the story is not to wreck my Halloween stuff, because I evidently have some strong unconscious attachment to it.

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