No pleas or stalling: You're on!
Desperately pulling on my costume over my clothes and with my pants halfway up the curtains open: and I disappoint everyone.
Dreams 11/13
Stage theatre production in a Victorian building hosted by my friends.
Swordfight between two men in black robes and red vestments. Of eastern origin. It is an ideological confrontation, a difference in philosophy. One man is killed, my grandfather. Some significance of antlers and my disrespect: laughing at their assembly. Emergency flight tickets home for the funeral, but I miss it having read my email too late.
I must fight the last man and we brutalize each other, but do not kill. Nunchaku to bludgeon. Still, when the fight is over and the man leaves we say "Shalom" to each other and part not as enemies, still at odds.
So many dogs of all breeds and sizes running loose in the hayfields with cows. The dogs must come in, there is a rabid cow in the field. I call their names and bring all the dogs in the house. Fifteen or so. Cats come in too, as if all animals are responding to my call.
I lament missing my flight and I order a coffee at a bed and breakfast in New Hampshire (Vermont? It's always snowing or has snowed in my dreams of Vermont.) There is some trick to making this special brew of coffee and I chat with the barista and owner. She reminds me a bit of S. at the general store in N. Montpelier.
