Fireplace Fireplace Fireplace
10-21-2000
I hardly remember any of this dream now, but throughout the dream I keep on hearing my grandmother's voice, shouting out random things as if she were talking in her sleep. I've ventured into the guest room of my childhood home. My childhood kitten is there. I pick it up, standing in the shadows of the room. It's nighttime, and only the hall light is on. I hear my grandma's voice again. This time she's shouting the word "fireplace". I laugh it off, thinking it's pretty funny, though not as funny as some of the other random stuff she's been shouting out all night. The kitten jumps from my arms at her shout, though, landing in the funnel of light in the doorway. I grab the kitten back up, somehow afraid of the light now. Then I hear my grandma's voice again. "Fireplace!" Again the kitten jumps to the floor, and again I struggle to get it back. "Fireplace!" It gets harder and harder to control the kitten, because he's scared. Now she's shouting it with more urgency. "FIREPLACE! FIREPLACE! FIREPLACE!" Faster and faster. I start to think maybe something IS wrong. Maybe something's happening to my grandma? Maybe something's coming out of the fireplace? Maybe she's so scared she can't articulate anything else? It starts to freak me out. "FIREPLACE FIREPLACE FIREPLACE!!!!!!!!!" More and faster. "FIREPLACEFIREPLACEFIREPLACE" as if it's a cassette tape being played at high speed. It starts to cut out. "FIREPLACE PLACE ACE ACE CE CE CE CE E E E" as if she's choking on the words, saying it so fast she can't even say the entire thing anymore. I totally wig out and wake up. I'm driving one of my sister's male friends to work at the golf course. Upon dropping him off, I see a kid I remember from high school, Anthony. Not that I ever talked to the guy, but I get out of my car and greet him anyway. He remembers me, asks me how I'm doing, but I turn around to see someone else. Mark from my old youth group. He says it's good to see me, but I turn around and see "Hool". We exchange greetings, but I'm already off again, strolling down a sidewalk, thinking how unlikely it is to see all these people I know around. Then I hear a retarded-sounding greeting come from a nearby table. There's a guy there that looks like Harlequin, but more emaciated. A woman is sitting with him, telling him to behave, but I go over to talk to him. After I confirm his identity, I ask him, "What happened to you?" He responds, "Tumor necrosis". I understand his condition. I start to break down and cry.
posted by Phlegm at 11/26/2003
