Gophers in the Attic

We are in the attic of an enormous old wooden building, perhaps a warehouse or similar. We are slowly making out way along the center of the space, from one end of the building to the other. Above our heads there is a long row of circular wooden gears suspended from the peak of the roof.  Looking up from beneath them, it looks like a long row of wagon wheels, connected like gears, suspended from the ceiling. For some reason I’m very short, so I’m looking up at them from below, but they are just above Michal’s head and he is moving slowly dow the line, adjusting wires that attach to some of them. Occasionally I reach up and give one a spin, noticing just after I do it that Michal was working on it. He seems a bit irritated, as I do it several times, but says nothing. We carry on slowly working on one wheel at a time, down the center of the building.

I’m in the same space, but now it’s crowded and I don’t see Michal. Where there used to be wheels hanging from the ceiling,  there is a similar row of circular objects down the middle of the space, they are small trees growing in a straight line down the floor. The trees have fluffy round tops, like truffula trees in the Dr. Seuss story, “The Lorax”. There is tall, wispy grass growing up from between the floorboards.

As I’m walking along the row of trees, I notice a little gopher running along beside me. I reach down to touch him, but he scoots away. Suddenly I feel something hit the back of my leg, and I look to see the little gopher has jumped up and is hanging on my pant leg. He is looking up at me and doesn’t seem afraid. I decide to let him stay there. As I turn my attention away from him, I notice I’m carrying a little black puppy in my arms. It’s a little black lab puppy.  As I’m noticing the puppy, I feel more weight on me and there is a cat that has also climbed up my pant leg and is happily hanging on just above the gopher.

I decide I have no more room for critters, so I walk toward the exit, which is a set of stone stairs so steep it appears to be a ladder, rather than stairs. At the top, the cat jumps down and attempts to descend. The gopher climbs up to my shoulder and begins rubbing against my chin. The puppy is asleep in my arms. I carefully put my foot down to the first step.

I wake up.

All the Dirty Laundry

I’m with a group of girl friends, we are on a long weekend getaway. I am aware of the identity of two friends, the rest are faceless. I’m not sure how many are there in total. One of the familiar friends has a partner along, and he is a colleague of mine.

We are in a small town, and arrive at a heritage style house. Inside there is an atmosphere like a pub, but the layout and furnishings aren’t quite right. There is a central bar, but to approach the bar I must enter into a large funnel of sorts. It starts out spaciously enough, but it gets narrower as I approach the bar. I’m not the only one in the funnel, and as it narrows, personal space becomes an issue. I feel crowded, and look over my shoulder to see who is shoving me. It’s my colleague, who is dating my friend. I’m instantly on edge, and sense this is going to cause problems.

I’m watching a confrontation between my friend and her boyfriend, my colleague. I back away and go upstairs. The atmosphere is very different. It’s a huge but poorly lit open space with old couches and chairs around the wall. The center of the room is empty.

My other familiar friend, and an old woman are sitting at the edge of the room. They aren’t near each other, and I can barely see them in the low light. The old woman is not part of our group. My friend asks me to go get the laundry from the dryer. I do so.

I’m carrying a load of warm clothes from the dryer over to a couch at the edge of the room. The odd sock, lettuce leaf, and carrot fall out of the bundle as I walk. I also notice that there is a turtle in mixed in with the clothes. I can’t tell if it’s alive or dead, it isn’t moving. I ask my friend, “Why is there a turtle in the laundry?”. She replies, “We had to put the vegetables somewhere…”.

I put the laundry down and start separating the vegetables from the clothes. I notice the turtle has moved. I pick him up. He’s still warm from the dryer, and he seems a bit miffed. He bites at my shirt. I gather up some vegetables to placate him. I ask again why the turtle was put through the laundry. I get no response.

I wake up.