(As I write this Rick is doing a blog about his refrigerator discovery--even though I don't know exactly what he's saying this is my response to http://lovinglifeineurope.blogspot.fr/)
Not to get Jungian about it, but I've always had vivid dreams complete with colour, sound, tastes and smells. My ex used to be disappointed when I didn't dream because he said they made good stories, which he enjoyed.
Thus Princess Diana and I watched multi-screen TV shows in a store than went out to watch balloons to float over a pine-treed mountain and David Bowie landed in my childhood backyard. Some were easy to trace the source as "brain dumps" but some I have no idea where they came from.
Likewise I have vivid nightmares. Snakes are the worse. Although snakes in person are far less scarey than snakes in dreams (no Freudian analysis also please).
Two that I remember:
1. It was only a couple of weeks before the birth of my daughter. I dreamed that my mother came in with a black and white coat, only the collar was a snake of the same colour and slithered off into my living room. I woke my ex and told him, went to the toilet because the baby was tap dancing on my bladder. After falling back asleep, I dreamed the same snake came over to my bed, raised himself to be level with me and said, "Bet you thought you got rid of me in your last dream."
2. In real life, three friends and I were walking in Montaillou, a tiny village high in the Pyrenees. A snake crossed our path. That night I dreamed that snake had stowed away in our car, waited while we ate at a restaurant, stayed hidden in the hour long drive back to Argelès, got out with me at the moive theatre without my seeing him, followed me home (about 70 steps) and came up the four flights of stairs to trap me in my bed.
My friends are helpful in this irrationality. When I was watching a snake scene in Harry Potter, both girls at the same minute covered my eyes. It was a snake-dream free night.
Likewise I know if there's a snake in a book, such as in the Lady Detective Series, and that book is left of my pillow at night, a snake will come out and work it's way into my dreams.
The solution is to put the book in the frigo. Afterall snakes are inactive in the cold.
Why is Rick writing a blog about this? Last night as I was reading the latest TV Guide, there was an anaconda story. I put the guide in the frigo.
When I came home from my writing session with L, he said very calmly, "I have a question, and I'm sure there's a logical explanation." He opened the freezer.
There was the guide. The anaconda was still inside. He suggested that we tear out the page and shred it.
I agreed. The anaconda is now in tiny, tiny pieces in the trash waiting for pick up.