A smell crept into my dreamtime, robbing me of the thrill of discovery that had permeated the etheric storyline reeling out from my subconscious. I had found myself in a dark and cavernous place. I was about to open an ornately carved wooden chest that I somehow knew contained a glorious treasure. I cracked open the lid and was suddenly confronted by an oder that was a disturbing mix of dead things, ass and kibble. The dream faded and I came back to consciousness, slowly opening my eyes.
The dogs face was inches from my pillow, his breath bathing my cheeks, a nasty mix of dead things, ass and kibble. The first really weird bit is that I didn’t own a dog. For an instant I thought I had just switched dreams. But that thought was short-lived as I realized I was indeed awake and there was indeed a dog staring at me with a look of patient expectation. I sat up in bed and the dog began wagging his tail.
The second really weird bit is that I realized I wasn’t in my bedroom. The bed I was on was a king and I slept on a twin. Not having shared a bed for a long time there really wasn’t the need for anything larger. The room was painted in warm lavender, which wouldn’t have been my first choice. There was a framed poster of an ancient stone amphitheater surrounded by lush green mountains hanging on the wall. Printed along the bottom of the poster in gold lettering was the word Delphi. This was definitely not my room. But I was most certainly awake now. What the hell?
Two nightstands bordered either side of the big bed. A Tom Robbins novel was on the one closest to the side I had been sleeping on, one of my favorite writers. On the other was a well-worn copy of The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, something I wouldn’t normally be attracted to reading.
I looked beyond the far nightstand into a closet that had been left open. It was filled with hanging clothes that were more ladylike. “Really, what the hell?” I asked the dog. But he just continued his wagging tail.
I went over the previous evening in my mind. It had unfolded like a thousand pathetic evenings before it. I had come home to my tiny apartment from a job as a customer service technician for a credit card company. I was exhausted as always, having spent the day speaking to people with challenging credit issues. Many of them had not been happy with what I told them on behalf of the multi-national corporation that employed me. I had heated up a quick frozen dinner in the microwave and polished off an entire bottle of wine in front of the television before dragging myself off to bed, a twin bed, suited for one. That had been the rhythm of my sorry life for as long as I could remember. So what was this all about?
Sounds from another room interrupted my musings. They were sounds I instantly recognized even though I had not heard them for a really long time. It was kitchen rattling sounds. Someone was cooking. I listened closely and under the rattling I could make out a faint humming. It was a happy tune hummed in a graceful feminine voice. Then, “Hon, you should get up! Breakfast will be ready in a minute,” the humming voice called out.
Strangely I wasn’t frightened or freaked out. If I had to pin it down I would have to say that I was excited. I decided to try something bold. I cleared my throat and responded, “OK, I’m getting up!” I paused, holding my breath. The rattling sounds continued without missing a beat. The happy humming resumed.
The only theory I can come up with involves the treasure chest in my dream. Had I actually discovered what it contained? I looked at the dog, reached out and petted him behind the ears. “Are you a good boy?” I asked him. He responded by nuzzling my open hand. “Yes, you’re a good boy,” I said. I rose from the large and cozy bed to go find out what was cooking.