Last night I had very odd, less than comfortable dreams. I don’t really know why because last night was a good night with no stress. I guess sometimes my dreams like to be mean to me for no reason.
First I had a dream about a spider. This is a problem, seeing as I am super arachnophobic. Like, so bad that I have full blown panic attacks over spiders. I dreamed that I had a bag of banana chips, except not all of them were slices. Some of them were halves of bananas with the peel still on, and when I got down to the bottom of the bag these were all that were left. And I didn’t want to eat the peels so I was rooting around for any leftover chips. One of these peels had something long and hairy sticking out of it but I thought it was just those strings bananas have, dried and hard like everything else. And then it moved.
I lost my shit and threw the bag down and this big hairy spider crawled out of the banana peel and out of the bag. I had been standing around with friends at the time and they were all freaking out and telling me to calm down but I couldn’t and I was hyperventilating and standing on a couch and screaming.
This reminds me of a time when I (in real life, not in a dream) was digging around in a box of beads for jewelry making and found a spider. Not a tiny little bead-sized spider either. It was a big ugly straw-colored wood spider the size of a half dollar and I didn’t freaking notice it for about 20 minutes. And when I did, I freaked out because, damnit, I had my HAND in that box!
The second dream I had was weirder but thankfully contained no surprise banana spiders. I was going to see a psychologist who ran a therapy practice out of her house, which was huge and mansion-like. When I got there she had an office of sorts set up on the second floor. There was even a small waiting room, which sorta disappeared later in the dream.
Instead of having a private place for us to talk, we just sort of talked in the open sitting out there where everyone could hear our private stuff, and that made me sorta uncomfortable. Doubly so when her daughter came home and just barged right in and rummaged around and then sat down with us as if therapy was all her business. But I didn’t say anything.
Then this psychologist told me I had cancer, which somehow didn’t bother me much. I was skeptical because she wasn’t a medical doctor. When it was time for me to leave I was escorted out by her husband who was also some sort of therapist or doctor and I think we spoke about my cancer some more, but I don’t remember to what end.
I got out to the parking-lot in the back of her enormous house and I realized my car was gone. I looked everywhere and then realized my license and my wallet were gone too. Somehow I knew this had something to do with these two shady doctors so I was reluctant to go back into the house and inquire about it. I did peek back in and I saw weird things happening so I went back outside. I couldn’t find my cell, either.
Just then I found a man who revealed to me that he was undercover FBI investigating this home and the doctors. He showed me a little room off the back of the house that opened up sort of like a vendor’s stall. Inside were a bunch of Asian girls who worked for the family as a cover, but who were investigating for him. I told him about my missing stuff and one of the girls was able to recover my license from a stack they had stolen back from the doctors. He said he would help me find my car, that it had likely been stolen out of the lot and then turned in to something else. A different make of car so that no one would recognize it. We went to stand on the street corner to look at cars as they passed and he mentioned that my car would probably be speeding, which I thought was dumb because if you are driving a stolen car you shouldn’t draw attention to yourself. That’s about where I woke up.