NAPOWRIMO Day 14: Dream Fictionary

NAPOWRIMO Day 14: Dream Fictionary

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Table (wobbly)

To see a table in your dream represents stability. If the table is wobbly, then it suggests you are dysfunctional, or adding to a dysfunctional family or system. It may also refer to the fact you are a bad carpenter or cook but no one is willing to tell you, or that you are not smart enough to find a matchbook to put under one of the legs. It also implies insecurity.

To dream that you are setting a wobbly table suggests that you don’t like the people you live with very much. It also symbolizes dissatisfaction or health concerns. Perhaps you are laying the groundwork for an evil plan or personal vendetta. It also implies you should call a psychologist about your well-being.

Teacup

To see a teacup in your dream represents lack of strength. It implies you are too weak to drink coffee or whisky. The cup may also signify that your life is very small or you are a pessimist; otherwise, you would dream about Vente Lattes and Big Gulps. Some believe that a teacup symbolizes love, nurturance and the womb. This is total bullsh*t.

To see a teacup on a wobbly table indicates your feelings of inadequacy and anxieties of being unable to handle a particular situation. It denotes feelings of powerlessness, guilt and/or low self-esteem. To dream that you are reading tea leaves means that you need a real life. Perhaps you feel unqualified as you read this entry, call your psychologist about your well-being.

-next page- Tequila

~Just L (April 14, 2018)

Author’s Note: NaPoWriMo Prompt – Write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary. Pick one (or more) of the following words, and write about what it means to dream of these things: Teacup; Hammer; Seagull; Ballet slipper; Shark; Wobbly table; Dentist; Rowboat.

Awash in Mystery — A Dream

spar-cafe-bar-tobacco
McMenamins Spar Cafe Private Booth

I am recording my dreams n 2017. I rarely dream of a particular person. There is one particular person I dream of often. I thought I’d share this one…


We were at a house party with a live band. The house was a very spacious, well-appointed multi-level mid-century modern that was nothing short of elegant. I didn’t recognize any of the people at the party but apparently, in my dream, I knew them well.

I was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, drinking cranberry juice, and chatting with the hosts. He approached me. He was baked! Without much introduction he asked me, “You want to get out of here? I want to show you something.” (Everything was as is it is now between us. In other words, we are not together and do not speak) I simply replied, “Sure.” He grabbed my hand (…you know even in my dream I was acutely aware how much I love that simple gesture between us) and followed him out.

I don’t recall how we got there, but we walked up to what looked like a concrete block warehouse with a tall chain link fence, and muddy parking area.

One step inside, and the exterior was clearly a facade. We were required to take off our muddy shoes (I was wearing pink Teva sandals) before entering. He grabbed my hand and led me into what can only be described as a cross between a swanky speakeasy, a high end opium den, and an old world library.

There was something glorious, contagious, and ruinous about it that thrilled us both.

It was dark, exotic and rich, with views of the stormy ocean through small windows at each booth or station. Each station was semi-private, came with it’s own server, had a slightly different decor. He chose a sumptuous S-shaped chaise lounge for two with attached cocktail trays and a corner window.

From our corner I could view four gentlemen in a booth (Have you ever seen the private booth at McMenamins Spar Cafe in Olympia, WA? That.) making a transaction illicit drugs out on the table), and a passionate googly-eyed couple sharing cocktails at small antique table that was reminiscent of my favorite restaurant, Cibreo, in Florence, Italy.

I’ll skip the dialogue and what happened next sweetly to myself.

After awhile our female server said, “Mr. _____, it’s time.” It was so charming, I felt as if I had been transported to another time and place, I didn’t want to move. He gave me a look that told me we must. As if on cue everyone quietly exited. I didn’t understand at the time. No money was ever exchanged, the lights went out, and like stage hands people quietly put things away.

When we got outside I realized I had one of my shoes and another person’s shoe, and turned to correct the mistake. Arriving at the back door I was told I could not enter. I ran around where we had originally entered, but by then the concrete shell was flooded with ocean water. It was then I realized what he had not told me about this secret place. It was only known to a few, it operated more like a membership club than a bar, it was open only after dark, and each night it was buried by the sea. In part, to remain hidden from law enforcement.

I could see my shoe stuck in the mud so I held my breath and dove to grab it. I came running out wet and laughing.

He waited for me nervously as I am certain I broke every rule.

We ran across the street and up steep stairs cut into the hillside into a neighborhood (one I have dreamed about before).

Happy.

~Just L AKA Lori Bumgardner (Dream, January 8, 2017)