In which Crowley catches a few at the dream theater.

Crowley has been dreaming of strange things lately. Some of these ‘things’ would constitute nightmares till a few years ago, but for some odd reason, Crowley had stopped dreaming in his sleep over the past few years (well, till a week ago, at least).

Most of these dreams feature stuff I used to do as a kid. Spending hours over jigsaw puzzles; climbing trees; nibbling on bits of chalk (the sort with which you write on blackboards); burrowing into the neighbouring hedgerows, covering myself in a thick blanket and play-acting as Rob-the-Sniper, taking imaginary potshots at passing cows, dogs and fat civil servants in their drab safari suits.

(‘Course, I still indulge in the make-believe sniper act, now and then, a consequence of playing Half-Life and Counterstrike late into the night for pretty much the whole of my last semester at law school. It’s a lot of fun, sitting at some rooftop restaurant and wondering if you can take out the snotty girl in pigtails arguing with a stall-owner at the other end of the marketplace.)

The dream (or nightmare, as it used to be when I was small) which really bothers me is this one where I’m drowning in some sort of pool. I’m not struggling to get out, though I want to, quite badly too. There’s only one person standing by the edge of this pool. A girl wearing a bluish smock and a black, hooded mackintosh (yep, I have Technicolor Dreams). She has her hand extended, though it’s hard to make out whether she’s offering a helping hand or simply waggling her fingers to say “See ya, mate”.

Oh, yes. It’s also raining in the dream. And I usually wake up just before the water closes in over my head.

I’ve been having this dream pretty regularly for the last 14 years (though the regularity with which it screens varies). What’s really worrying about this dream (besides the obvious fact that I am drowning) is that I know the girl who’s standing there. She and I have been classmates throughout middle and high school, and were reasonably good friends till we graduated and lost touch (I also had a brief crush on her at some point…nothing whatsoever to do with the dream). This same girlie’s been featuring in the dream for 14 years! The dream itself doesn’t freak me out. What does is this woman’s appearance. She wasn’t a particularly close friend, not someone I hung out with, nor someone I was hopelessly in love with (I don’t recall being hopelessly in love with anything during my school years, except my tape machine).

I discussed this dream with KittyLitter, which elicited no response, save “Where’s the glycerin? Where’s the fucking GLYCERIN?”

KittyLitter’s dear friend, DaddyLongLegs, vociferously advocated a past life regression session. Wow! I go under hypnosis to find out I spent my last life as a pair of wellingtons who got tossed into the nearest fishpond because my owner couldn’t take the toe-jam. Oh Joy!

I spoke to a shrink about this a couple of years ago. He put it down to stress, and he was partially right, because this dream recurs more often during stressful periods. But the fuckup is…it never actually goes away. I see it at least once every 2 months!

Freud. Whither thou?