Amusingly, if Pooteewheet vacates the bedroom, I dream. I've been trying to correlate why, and I haven't gotten a good look at the Fitbit-type activity/sleep tracker she got for Mother's Day, but I suspect it has to do with how often my sleep is disturbed if she's thrashing around in bed. Now, it could be that the thrashing is a result of my restless sleep. After all, I don't have a Fitbit to watch for counter thrashing. But given I sleep more deeply when she's not there - last night because my snoring potential was high due to grass cutting in the neighborhood - I'm going to blame her.
End result? I don't dream much - at least nothing I remember - 99.5% of the time. Last night, however, I had a dream I was in a castle. It looked like something out of Spirited Away. And like Spirited Away, it was full of lots of spirits, each of them in charge of something like the garden, the doorway, small animals, the wind, a graveyard, a garden. Each of them was bemoaning the fact that human beliefs were changing and they no longer believed in animal spirits and spirits associated with non-human things. Humans only believed in the ghosts of dead relatives. After bumping into a number of them who were slowly changing into human ghosts, one of them approached me excitedly and said, "We figured it out!" It explained to me that in addition to believing in the ghosts of dead people, which was incredibly boring to embody, modern people also believed in dire warnings. That is, you could be sort of a ghost/oracular warning hybrid, ala Hamlet, if you made the warning part seem like they were having a premonition that fit with their belief that they "knew it was going to happen!" e.g. if there was just a small aspect of the haunting that made it seem light it might be arising from their own mind, leaving them an element of doubt about whether they were really seeing a ghost. After that, all the spirits I'd bumped into became incredibly annoying ghosts warning me about how I might trip, I might take the wrong turn at the end of the hallway, I might eat the wrong food, I might open the wrong window (I was opening the wrong window), I shouldn't touch that lamp...thousands of inconsequential things. And once they realized I could see them giving me advice, they would pop up more frequently, until I couldn't walk more than a few steps without getting a warning. Spirits of the wood and walls and gardens who minded their own business for the most part.
That part was interesting. The part where there was a computerized, automated wood lathing shop three stories tall powered by what looked like a few 286 computers, and Godzilla showing up to attack my castle so I had to move into a hotel room where the only access was through the kitchen. More confusing, less cohesive.
Feel free to psychoanalyze. It's not about getting back to nature. It's not about switching jobs. Could be because I'm reading short stories based on Cthulu mythos, but there weren't any tentacled creatures haunting the edges prepared to turn it into a nightmare.
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