I am clearly disturbed, like really friggin’ disturbed, on some deep, subconscious level. Perhaps you all already know this, and perhaps I already know this too, but in the event there was any doubt, let me remove it for you now.
I’ve been dreaming weirder than normal dreams of late, and as a student of psychology I am deeply concerned about what my subconscious might be trying to tell me. Some people say dreams are a fascinating insight into unconscious thoughts and feelings, but the dream I had last night makes me want to call my insurance company for participating psychologists in my network. I need immediate medical mental attention.
The air felt cold on my exposed skin, and as I laid face down on the lumpy old mattress, I had a hard time determining if the stagnant smell was from the room or the uncomfortable fabric beneath my face. I lifted my head slightly to examine the room I was in which appeared to be more like a cave or a tunnel. It was dark and empty, and although it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of me, I knew I was near water. I heard heavy flowing water coming from all directions -over, under, all around me. I heard drips and drops splashing in all sorts of unseen puddles, but I also heard a man humming an unfamiliar melody from right behind me. As I attempted to push myself up with my arms to see who was with me, I became suddenly aware I was unable to move. An immediate feeling of panic set in and I tried, without any success, to prop myself up again. As I tried to free my arms I felt a rough hand against my face and an equally rough voice telling me to stay still. The man tugged and pulled at fabric that I could now feel was wrapped snugly around my body from my neck all the way down to my ankles. He continued to hum as he worked, presumably fastening the restraints around me. Abruptly, the man pulled the fabric tightly and lifted me to a standing position. I still couldn’t tell what was secured around me or who this man was that was evidently holding me captive. He began forcing me to move forward and I found it nearly impossible to walk since my legs were stuck together. I waddled as quick as I could, taking painful bare-footed baby steps across the unstable surface. This man was large, and although I hadn’t yet seen him, I could feel how large he was as he poked and pushed me through the cold, wet tunnel. The ground crunched and gave way beneath his powerful steps, and as we pushed further down the tunnel I began to feel cold water and debris rushing around and against my feet and ankles. The massive unknown stranger continued to force me forward, and the further we moved the deeper and faster the water became. Nearing the end of the tunnel, light began to penetrate and I could finally see that I was wrapped in a white knit afghan. I immediately felt my face get hot and suddenly felt embarrassed wearing only the holey (not holy) white fabric. Upon reaching the end of the tunnel it was clear that we were high off the ground, and the water continued past where we had stopped and turned into a frigid waterfall (Picture the movie “The Fugitive” just before Harrison Ford jumps away from the federal agent who was chasing him). My mind seemed to freeze and my thoughts drifted to nothing as I looked out over the great abyss. Water continued to move and push against the back of my legs, and suddenly I felt myself spinning wildly. For a moment I thought I had gone over the edge, but when the world stopped moving, I found myself face to face with my very, very naked captor…
Dog the Bounty Hunter just stood there totally in the buff for a moment and stared at me. He made no gestures and spoke no words, only stared blankly in my direction. As I struggled to keep my footing he began to take a few steps backwards. Next, without any warning, he ran in my direction and karate kicked me in the stomach. His one kick was more than enough to send me flying back over the falls. As I fell to my apparent death, I looked up and saw him standing at the tunnel’s opening, still totally nude. The last thought that crossed my mind as I was plummeting downwards was how I was not at all surprised that his carpet did not match the drapes. Yes, that’s right, I wasn’t afraid of dying, wasn’t trying to determine why he was killing me, not how he had come to hold me captive, or even why Dog the Bounty Hunter had knit me into an afghan cocoon. My last thought before waking was “there’s a big surprise, he’s not a natural blond.”
So there you have it. I’m crazy. I’ve got to be absolutely nuts. First of all, I don’t watch (nor have I ever watched) the Dog the Bounty Hunter show on A&E. Secondly, I think he is super gross and I have never thought about him naked, and to be perfectly honest, prefer not to even think about him clothed. But there he was, in all his glory, naked as the day he was born, humming, knitting, and ultimately killing me in my dream last night. So if any of you have any ideas about why I might have a dream like this, or what it might mean, keep it to yourselves. As for me, no more wine and Hershey bars at bedtime…and maybe it’s what i get for suggesting pubic hair dye as a (terrible) holiday gift.
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