how Freudian of me

I had hoped to post today with an update on construction of the chicken coop,

including a dramatic photo of a feature I think will impress you.  Sadly, the shot

required a cloudless sunrise and that just didn’t happen.  In its place I offer this

dream I had last night.  Since moving here, my dreams have become 91 percent

more vivid.

In this one, Jude, her son Nathan and I lived in a huge house.  It was full of closets,

cupboards and pantries chock full of stuff.  I could pull a rake over the floor of any

one of them and garner anything from small socks to a baby carriage, which is not

easily raked elsewhere.

As I wandered room to room with a rake, I entered one that was empty except for

a nearly bare Christmas tree.  Its needles and broken ornaments were all over.  Our

cat Ollie was in one corner with a Cheshire grin on his face.  I raked up the mess and

lifted the edge of a braided rug to sweep it under.

A Gila monster rose up and took a mouth full of needles and glass.  It retreated back

under the rug.  Realizing how dangerous it was, I ran to Jude and Nathan, yelling, “I

have a Gila monster hiding under a rug!  I need back up!”

I awoke with a start.  Jude was coming upstairs to kiss me goodbye.  I told her about 

the dream.  She said, “so that’s what it takes for you to ask for help, a large poisonous

lizard?”

I’d never framed it in those terms.  I’m not much for Freudian interpretation of

dreams, even though my great-great-grandfather was a colleague of Sigmund.  He

once approached the father of psychoanalysis with a suggestion to augment the

concept of the Freudian slip with a Freudian half slip and matching bra.

The great man reportedly replied, “die Motten hatten sich an den Teppichen zu

schaffen gemacht,” which means “the moths had got at the carpets.”  Freud only

knows what he meant.