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Lost in Tulgey Wood

"I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge." J.R.R. Tolkein

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Location: Canton, Ohio, United States

The essence of all art is to have pleasure in giving pleasure --Mikhail Baryshnikov

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Attack of the Killer Mini Squirrels

Last night Riley woke up at about 4:00 a.m. with a bad dream and I climbed into her bed and kept her company until she fell asleep. Mind, she is three and a half and sleeps in a twin bed, so there I wasn't able to really get comfortable and sleep. By the time I was able to slip away back to my bed some 45 minutes later, I was sore and awake. I had about 2 hours to kill till I had to get up and get ready for work, but sleep was just not returning to me. I tried to lie there very still and rest; afterall, I had had quite a day yesterday. Eventually, I did slip away to sleepytown, but it was not a very calm and peaceful place as you shall see.

The setting of the dream is at my house in the middle of the night. Espresso Toast was there and she, Doc and I were scrambling to see who would get to use the bathroom first (Doc won). I was planning on driving Ms. Toast to work in my VW Jetta, which, incidentally, I sold last summer. So, we start driving and we were talking and, as I am wont to do when talking and driving, I got lost. At first, I thought I was going the wrong way down our street so I turned around. We kept driving and the landscape became more foriegn, almost Pennsylvanian, brick buildings, turn-infested narrow streets. As we were driving, I noticed a trouble indicator that was new to me. It was about 3 inches in diameter and it was a very small plasma monitor in full color. Unfortunately, I didn't understand what the little harbingers of doom stood for.

Finally, I decided to stop and ask directions. We pulled into Pike Shopping Center, a very Pittsburgh establishment. It looked like an old Kaufmann's inside. It was very busy for 6:00 a.m. There were two sleepy looking customer service representatives yawning as they sat at a card table covered in a random display of brochures and credit card applications. I asked one of the ladies, both of whom were in red velvet and wearning santa hats at rakish angles, if they knew where Silsby Road was.

The lady on the left yawned and said, "I don't know where that road is."
I said, "You are pretty busy for this early in the morning."
"We're kicking off Christmas," she yawned, "Why don't you check with the ladies in the jewelry department; they usually know how to find their way around."

They did. We headed out the door and were making our way to the Jetta. As we were crossing the inexplicably vacant parking lot (my car was the only one), a young, black man was walking towards us at an angle; eyes on the horizon. I tried to step out of his way since he made no effort to change his course and bumped into him, hooking the sleeve of my shirt on the button of his coat. We separated eventually, I apologized and he said, "'S'all right," and moved along.

We got into the car as the sun was just creeping up. It was that time of morning when everything seems tinted blue. As I put the key into the ignition I looked up and what to my wondering eyes should appear? At about 2:00 on the steering wheel there sat a 4 and a half inch tall squirrel. It was very still, but staring me right in the eyes. I asked Ms. Toast, "Is it real?" As soon as I spoke, the little bugger leapt at me with the speed and fury of Bruce Lee. I was able to react in time to bring my right had up to my face and stop him from going for my eyes. He clung to the fleshy part of my palm under my pinky. I must have shook him six or seven times until he flew out of the window, where I watched him to be sure I hadn't killed him. He scampered away and my car stalled.

I was able to get it started by turning the key again and willing the engine to move us. The engine didn't turn over but we started moving. Eventually the hum of the engine kicked in as we made our way down Silsby Road on a bright, early autumn day.

Edited to Add: By the way, I wanted to mention that Ms. Toast didn't seem to say much (which is so not like her) in this dream. For the most part, she was silent, but I could sense the wheels in her head turning, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. However, she is too well-mannered to come out and say what a flaky nutcase I am.


Blogger Elizabeth said...

Well, at least you didn't have turtles in your mouth!

I hope you remember what I'm talking about or the preceding comment is going to seem awfully weird!

5:58 PM  
Blogger Flannery Alden said...

I remember now that I've talked to you on the phone about it. For those who don't know here's the explanation:

In college, I had a dream that our good friend Joanne had had babies, which were turtles. She didn't want them, so I agreed to keep them for her and house them in my mouth so that they would stay warm. I wonder what Terry would say about what Freud would say about that.

11:52 AM  
Blogger Big Orange said...

vehhrrry intheresting...

Sometime I'll have to find the text to a horrific dream I had about a plastic, living lobster about a dozen years or so ago... GAWD was that bad.

BTW, I tend to call these things "Kafka Dreams". Did your hand hurt where the squirrel attached itself when you awoke? THAT'S always a trip...

btw, I love the idea of you asking, in a surreal dream, "is this real?" to M. Toast. Better than Freud, what would PLATO say about THAT?!

1:39 PM  
Blogger Big Orange said...

So! When are we setting up a group blog for all o' us to submit our most deeply weird nocturnal amusements? I'm too busy and too dumb to figger out how to do this. YOU taught me the HTML code to put links in, YOU start one, OK??

10:12 PM  
Anonymous Terry said...

I'm not sure what Freud would say (I've never forgiven him for all the cocaine he prescribed which I think eventually led to the disco music in the 70's), but it sounds like a deep seated need for turtle soup! I remember that dream (thanks for putting the image back in my psyche!)

11:07 AM  
Blogger Big Orange said...

where turtle soup is concerned, what PARTS of the turtle does one EAT, exactly? The muscles, no doubt, but WHICH ones? Legs? I don't know 'nuff 'bout turtle anatomy to be able to fathom WHAT there is to EAT on them things (or is it like squirrel stew-- you need LOTS o' turtles to make a pot?)

6:54 PM  
Blogger Flannery Alden said...

Well, Big Orange, your dream has come true. Visit Camelot of the Mind at our new team effort: http://twasadream.blogspot.com/

9:26 PM  
Blogger Big Orange said...

::swoon:: NOW y'all are in trouble!! heh, heh, heh...

6:47 AM  
Blogger genn6 said...

I'm surprised I had no reaction with the squirrel latching into your hand.....how did you manage control of the car....

was I THAT stoned? Geez. :)

11:16 PM  

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