Constricting Dreams

327006282_bc5c508a44According to, to dream of a boa constrictor is not a good thing…AT ALL: “To dream of this is just about the same as to dream of the devil; it indicates stormy times and much bad fortune. Disenchantment with humanity will follow. To kill one is good.”

Comforting, being as how there were two in my dream last night, and no, I did not kill either of them. So does that mean double evil? Double the disenchantment with humanity? Christ. I started to look up other parts of my dream in the dictionary, but nothing gave me the glimmer of hope I was looking for. I thought maybe boa constrictor plus staircase would equal something like: you will be receiving a large sum of money, no strings attached. Nope. That isn’t the case. All I got was some bullshit about descending a staircase and how it was bad… of course in my dream I was descending a staircase.

I woke up panicked with my heart beating hard and heavy. I had been having the most vivid dream where I was co-existing with two boa constrictors that lived on my staircase. Every time I would try to walk down the stairs or up the stairs I would get snapped at, and flashed a bit of their fangs. Now, for the record (if there are any serpent buffs out there reading this) I could not pick an actual boa constrictor out of a snake line up. I do not know what they anatomically look like in any way, other than having no legs, and they are most likely big and creepy and eat things like pet rabbits and tiny children…I am also fairly certain due to the addition of “constrictor” in their name that they might suffocate things, or at least hold on to them tightly against their will. It was just very clear to me in my dream that these snakes were boa’s… kind of like how there can be a person in your dream that is a solid cross between your Aunt Shirley and a tuba instructor you had in 6th grade, yet in your dream they make up one cohesive, sense making amalgam.
I woke up to the sound of a dog barking, which for some reason was more unsettling than normal. I immediately thought there must be an intruder trying to get in… are my windows open? Is the door locked? I tried to ask Pete, but he just kind of grumbled and rolled over. Useless. Now, in the defense of Peter in his sleepy grumbly state of indifference to potential imaginary intrusion of our apartment… I don’t think it would be a hard job for a skilled (or unskilled) criminal to tap. There is a gap under our front door that on occasion lets in rainwater… the windows get stuck both in the open and closed position, it’s an old building. I am pretty sure you could Macgyver your way in here with some dental floss, some tweezers and a banana hammock. However, I like the false security of knowing that my creaky windows are shut and my door is locked. In my defense, I was still coming off of the boa constrictor dream and thinking that the boa’s might be the potential intruders… due to their lack of opposable thumbs, I am fairly certain that a nice locking of the door and shutting of the window might keep those bad boys at bay. (unless they were super intelligent, modified species… or the gap under my door is larger than i think it is. either way, there are always exceptions to any rule–right?) Surely, I was snake food.

The whole situation reminded me of when I was a kid. I used to watch these episodes of Unsolved Mysteries before I went to bed at night. I am certian that my parents had NO idea how much the show actually terrified me, or I know it would have been taken off of our program list of safe television. I had these large sliding glass doors in my room, looking out into the unpredictable evening landscape. I would go to bed with a fresh roster of kidnappers, killers, and god knows what else still roaming around at large. Eek! I remember sitting in bed, making plans on how to get away from these inevitable creeps. I was convinced one might come knocking on my glass door. Would I try to scream? Would I run? What kind of alert system could I create to get my parent’s attention… I know my Dad would be down here quicker than you could say baseball bat if he knew I was in danger… Should I have a cry of distress? Perchance I should talk it over with my parents… I would hide under my covers with my stuffed animal puppy dog and tell myself if I squeezed the dog real tight no harm would come to me– then I would say my prayers (you know, the one that has “I pray the lord my soul to keep…if I should die, before I wake..I pray the lord my soul to take…” which I find pretty morbid for a child… but, ya know.) Now that I am writing this out, it kind of sounds like early onset of childhood OCD.  Oh well.  I was a special kid. As a kid I had a really good memory… It was a little freakish, even.  My Grammie used to lose something and then ask me where it was because I would remember exactly the location in which she last used said lost item.  My facial recall was also fairly impressive, as I could remember details of each of the scary folk that I saw on Unsolved Mysteries—scars, tattoos, beards, lazy eyes… all of it.

Anywho, I have come to be sort of a planer.  Not an actual life planner in the generic sense (ie. I will have kids by the time I am 25 and then go to night school to be a Dental Assistant.) but rather in the obscure.  I like to plan for things that I perceive are plausible probabilities…my fears.  Usually my fears by any rational mind would be considered strange and completely improbable.  For instance, take my fear of large objects falling out of the sky.  I would like a plan for that.  I would like some sort of assurance that I would know what to do in a situation if say a plane, helicopter, or elk were to fall into the roof of my apartment.   I would like to know how to react if a boa constrictor really did make its way onto my staircase, or an unsolved mystery man decided to press his face up against my sliding glass doors before trying to abduct me.  I want a survival kit ready for each of these scenarios.  I want to live.

Needless to say, I have so far outwitted the inevitable fate of being done in by various irrational fears.  I also think it is time to stop writing… my neurosis is showing.


~ by soartsyithurts on January 23, 2009.

One Response to “Constricting Dreams”

  1. OHMYGOD, Unsolved Mysteries was the scariest shit EVER! My sister used to watch it and I HAD to because it was on and I wanted to watch something, but I hated it. Eventually I learned to just do something else. I can’t handle that kind of shit.

    But you should have comforted yourself a bit with the fact that your freakish ability to remember the details of the bad guys’ faces would mean that after a crime you could help the police draw a really accurate photo of the perpetrator.

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