I had this funky dream last night that I had gone on a trip with Mom and Berta and some other people. There were mountains and Mom was driving. I warned her that the road ahead was slippery and that there was no guardrail, but we went over the edge anyway. The car hung over the cliff’s edge, teetering like an action movie.
Interestingly, the choice at this point was not to get out of the car, but to have a kind of psychic battle to keep the car from falling over the edge. There was no way to shift weight inside the car without it falling over, and the only way to save the carload of people was for me to take control of my dream and put the car back on the road. Anyway, I think I tied this contest with my subconscious because although the car didn’t fall over the edge, I woke up just enough to knock the dream into the next chapter.
In the next chapter, we arrived at a destination very far from home, which is where we were supposed to be. I don’t think I had any money, because I remember watching everyone else eat french fries, and me being hungry. I think I use the last of my change to call home. I don’t know who I was talking to there, but they were describing all of the weird things that were happening around the neighborhood.
As they were describing the strange things (and by strange, I mean something like, “Mrs. Smithers is walking her stuffed dog around with a leash and skateboard”) I would see the exact same thing happening with different characters in the town I was in. I saw this skateboarding stuffed dog trailing behind a woman that didn’t look like Mrs. Smithers.
So, yeah, there were a bunch of things like that, and I was led to the conclusion that there were little “mirror towns” all over the place that worked exactly like this, and it disturbed me that because I was visiting this morror town, all of my other mes were visiting other mirror towns, too.
Berta suddenly got sick of her hair style (it was all black and clumpy) and had it all shaved off for replacement with a wig. I was telling her, “Hey, that style looks pretty nice,” when I noticed the stubbly regrowth of hair under her misaligned wig. Weird.
At least I’m not dreaming about Berta giving birth to blue cats like when she was pregnant with Abby. I’m sure I’ve got something like that in the pipe, though.
