There’s nothing like police cars on the street in front of your house to disrupt decent sleep. One more hour and it was time to wake briefly anyways.
Once I fell back into slumber, my dreams were a cross between a scene from The Magicians and a variation of an old fantasy – which is about to become not so secret. Sorry. NO names, with the exception of a fictional character from the above mentioned SyFy show, which has become a new favorite.
The beginning is fuzzy. All I can recall is being in my parents’ basement, cleaning and sorting whatever was in my mom’s old shop where she used to do hair a million years ago. There were stacks of vinyl records. As I started to sort them, someone special showed up to help, asking to keep some of them. How could I say no? I’ll never say no to this person.
I remember feeling elated as we sat shoulder to shoulder, whispering and giggling as we sorted the records. The rest of the world ceased to exist. We were living in that moment, and I never wanted it to end.
But then it was time for me to do laundry. My assistant stayed on to observe, which was mildly unnerving. Folding had to be perfect, just in case I was being scored for a prize at the end of the day.
The in between details are also fuzzy, except for the need to change into dinner appropriate attire. After that we were sat at a long table, where others were dressed in medieval costumes, and the table didn’t have an inch to spare. There was so much food! Margo the high king of Fillory was leading a prayer. Just so you know, Margo doesn’t pray.
For some reason, in my dream, I flashed back to something which never ever happens when I [rarely] dream about my record sorting assistant.
And then we were back at the dinner table, where we locked eyes … until my bladder woke me.
PS: I’m sitting here listening to Loreena McKennitt as I write about my dream … and weeping. I guess it’s going to be one of those days. I hope it’s just my hormones.