Andare, Partire, Tornare


The hills are alive...with evil blood-sucking fiends!

Yesterday morning, I had one of those elaborate dreams that play out like a movie or a book, with yourself as the first-person protagonist. It was about vampires, but thankfully it wasn't any of the "wake up with the heebiejeebies" type of dreams - it was very matter of fact.

I was a sort of Mina Harker type, but with a little Anita Blake stirred into the pot. For some reason, I had taken it upon myself to capture and keep prisoner this vampire, who was, by the way, Christopher Plummer. Not that he was actually the actor Christopher Plummer, but he looked exactly like him. As a friend pointed out, he made a very good vampire, because he has no lips.

I was using these long silver needles to attack him with - which is stupid, and even in my dream I think I commented on how it was an idiotic idea to get so close to the vampire I was trying to subdue. They worked, though, so basically, I imprisoned the vampire via acupuncture, and locked him up in a big room where I would eventually go in and stake him.

Of course, he escaped. Cue a long, very cinematic scene of dogs baying, people holding lanterns, black woods backlight by the moon...and somehow I had acquired a pack of children who were following me everwhere. I ended up following the vampire up to a big, circular stone room, where the children were all sitting around a big table, with unafraid and rather nonchalant expressions. At this point in the dream, I realize that at some moment during our previous interactions, Christopher Plummer has inserted whatever mental links it takes to put me in what vampire story writers commonly refer to as "thrall." Basically, I'm now Christopher Plummer's slave girl. And you thought he was harsh on Maria and all those kids in the Sound of Music! This is much worse than simply blowing that stupid whistle, or making Maria dress the kiddies in curtains!

The funny thing was, is throughout the dream, I could anticipate where things were going, like I was writing the script, or had read the book. I couldn't change anything, but I knew what would be going on.

Anyway, Christopher Plummer takes control of my mind, and over the minds of all the kids around the table. What is strange to me is, instead of fighting and being terrified at my loss of mental and physical liberty, I'm quite relaxed. Actually, I'm pretty happy. Everything is now out of my hands, and Christopher Plummer is taking care of me. He's really a rather benevolent vampire, despite all the blood-sucking and peasantry-molesting. I walk across the room and lay my head in his lap, and he's stroking my hair, and I feel loved and protected. By the vampire. Despite the fact that I will probably become a broodmare for his line of half-human, half-vampire monstrosities, which will then take over the world and plunge it into everlasting darkness.

Analyze that, if you dare.

It doesn't last long, because some pesky woman in floaty white garments comes in and slays him, freeing me and the children from the thrall. And then I wake up, because Bogie the cat is playing with my hair and drooling on my face. It's noon on a rainy Saturday, and I am left to remember the dream as if it were a particularly engrossing book I had just finished.

I have no idea if it means anything greater, or simply the fact that right now, relinquishing all control to some other person would be a great load off my mind. I mean, really - who wants to go through all the fuss and bother of making the hard decisions for yourself? Odds are, there's a perfectly nice vampire who would do the job for you. Maybe yours looks like Michael Crawford, or Patrick Stewart, or Dr. Ruth. Maybe Frank Sinatra, or Greta Garbo.

All I know is, I'll never watch The Sound of Music the same way again.

6:52 p.m. - 2002-03-03


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