18 February 2006

Egging Dreams On

I'm pretty sure last night's odd dream selection had something to do with the past-date hardboiled eggs I ate the evening before (which reminds me...I ought to call Mom and tell her to throw the rest out). My stomach wasn't happy about it, which made it difficult to sleep. When I did sleep, my dreams were weird (not quite as weird as the math-vampire-movie, though).

I'm going on a fishing trip with my dad, ostensibly, except he's really only my ride and I'm going to hook up with another group, that I THINK was taiji related. We get to the area, and the car barely fits through the gates (if we'd been in my dad's pickup, it wouldn't have fit at all). It was a good thing the car didn't have any side mirrors. Later we find out that no one uses the gates; there's a larger opening next to them.

My dad sets up to go fishing, but first we have to ferry my stuff across/down a river or lake or something, so he's got an inflatable raft. I'm not sure why, but we don't get everything on the first trip, and I can't use the boat again, so I'm going to have to lug my final bag to its next destination. As I get ready to do so, I find a necklace has fallen out of the bag, and is missing part of its pendant. I find it. It's a blue heart contained in a clear crystal heart (real Austrian crystal), and I wonder why they didn't use better glue to hold it to the necklace.


There's a building at the center of the forest. It's got a sort of museum, as well as a gift shop and dining hall. A short (but not dwarvish) man acts as butler. I notice a dog's skull, next to a picture of a Pomeranian though the skull is too large for a Pomeranian. There's also a section of skin (fur still attached) next to the skull. I remark to an unseen companion: "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the skin off of a dog's skull?"


Flashback to an earlier trip to the same place. Dad and I have gone fishing again, and we've taken Scamp with us (old family dog), even though he really should have been left home. Unsurprisingly, he dies. And I have a vivid memory of using a large carving knife to cut his body up into usable pieces to eat, and of splitting his skull to get his brain out. I don't THINK we ate the brain. (Note: the real Scamp died of old age more than a year ago) I remember thinking that was it; I'd never go on another fishing trip with my dad, not really.


Back to the museum, and I'm still wondering how they got the dog skull cleaned up so nicely without splitting it open. We (still don't know who's with me) get invited upstairs in the building, which is a very rare honor. Upstairs, we find out that the small "butler" is really the dojo-master of the place. He bows. We bow back.


My dad and I have returned to Pocatello, and run into Chad (math department). I start telling him all about the fishing trip, while my dad looks on sourly. He'd told Chad it was a business trip beforehand. I told Chad not to mind him, he was insane. Considering that Dad was right next to me, it wasn't the brightest thing to say, but there the dream ends.

The weirdest part was that, in the dream, it really felt like I was remembering cutting Scamp's body up. I remembered the knife, and the sound it made cutting through flesh. I'm just as glad that nothing similar happened in real life. He died semi-peacefully in the kitchen, and Dad buried him in the back yard. He was getting old. Too old. He could barely walk, barely eat, barely see. Dad really should have had him put to sleep, but I think that dog was his only real friend in the world. The night before he died, he started up a horrible...not howling...keening, maybe. He would repeat it at regular intervals. As soon as I heard it, I knew he wouldn't last the night. Dad was in complete denial, and explained that Scamp was just complaining that things weren't going the way he wanted. *sighs* The next morning was a Sunday, and Mom picked me up for family lunch as usual. I very nearly asked "Is Scamp dead yet?" but decided against it. During the ride I found out that, yes, he had died during the night.

It was about that point that Dad's sanity started going downhill again. It had been somewhat bad through the fall, probably because Scamp wasn't getting better, but after Scamp died... I think his mental health might improve if he found himself another dog, but I also suspect he's gotten himself worked into some insane paranoiac taboo over it, so suggesting it wouldn't be healthy.

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