I thought this blog would be a good place to document the wonderfully bizarre dreams I have. I get agonisingly frustrated talking to people who beam: “I had the weirdest dream last night…I was at my school, getting ready for an exam, but my pencil snapped!”. It makes me want to push their faces firmly into the very pillows that allow them to experience such inane drivel.
So, last night’s dream, or what I remember of it…
My beloved (and long-dead) dog Abigail decided that her time had come to die. She begged the family to aid her in assisting suicide, which, caring for her as we did, we agreed to. The vet (who for some reason championed this plan) informed us that the most compassionate way to do this would be to remove her brain.
Why we chose to leave Abi’s brain in the middle of the living room floor is anyone’s guess. The winter snow had begun to fall, and the brainless dog decided to spend her final hours out in the cold, to help her slip away.
Many hours passed, and we all went outside to say goodbye. Abi, drained of all colour, had crawled into a TK Maxx carrier bag. Her monochrome face stared up at me, and she began slowly counting upwards. As she reached the number 8, she froze, and was gone.
I retreated to my girlfriend’s house, who was comforting me during this understandably upsetting time. We heard a scream from upstairs.
There was a little yellow rat zooming around the bedroom of my girlfriend’s terrified sister. I, being the expert vermin catcher, trapped it under a glass, which caused it to panic. Whilst thrashing around it cut itself to shreds, and by the time I got it outside to release it, it was completely skinned, and its innards we protruding from a huge gash in its side. It lay in the grass, screeching, before howling: “I’m sorry, Ross! I’m sorry!”
As a firm supporter of animal rights, the creature death-count of this dream was rather upsetting, but I’m hoping the RSPCA doesn’t have a division specialising in subconscious animal cruelty.