Pragmatic Dreams

Having just woken up, I believe now would be the best time to share an interesting dream I had. (I'll probably write more later- I just don't want to forget this dream since that tends to happen)

Maybe it was that article I read at Elite which called dogs social parasites, or perhaps it is a reflection of my own long held beliefs. Perhaps completing George Orwell's 1984 or even Sue Monk Kidd's The Secret Life of Bees -both novels of which I have completed reading recently- has had a larger effect on my unconscious mind than on my conscious mind.

I was the same age I am now and it was summertime. I lived in the same house that I currently live in, and I lived with my brother and two parents, the same three people I live with now. As I typically do, I was on AIM (AOL Instant Messenger for that small number that does not recognize the acronym), and I was conversing with a girl named May (reference to Secret Life of Bees), though she was not responding. Just as I am now, I was training myself to use a Dvorak keyboard.

A small, furry, golden blur darted across my room near my feet. For some reason I had a dog. It was a toy dog sized critter with a rather thick golden coat. Most people would describe it as "cute". I did not want it.

I did not abuse it, and I was not mean to it. I was quite good to the dog. The dog would run freely about the house, and when it came to me I would hold it. Being a dog, the creature (of which I cannot recall the name) often peed on the floor.

I was well aware of this and quite bothered. My parents grew irked by the fact that stains of dog piss dotted the landscape of our home.

I sought to solve this problem by designating a place for the dog. I was unable to locate him walking about the house, so I placed a bucket on the staircase. I went away to do some homework for maybe half an hour. Upon returning to the bucket, I discovered a dead squirrel. Puzzled, I looked a bit closer. A rabbit bounded from upstairs, tipped the bucket, and bit a piece off the squirrel's flesh and then continued its descent down the stairs. Oddly enough, no blood came from the rabbit, and what appeared to be hairless rabbit flesh was all that was visible from the bite- perhaps the squirrel only ate a modicum of rabbit hair.

In place of the bucket, I asked my mother if I could put a laundry basket on the staircase (the laundry basket I asked for is sitting right outside my room). She refused. I selected a distinctly colored purple bucket instead, a relic from my childhood (From what I remember, or from the connections I can make, it was associated with some toys called "Krazy Bones").

This failed to capture the dog. The creature ran past me a few times, so I knew it was in the house. I even held it a few times. It was quite a pleasant creature. Soft fur and friendly disposition, it is difficult to imagine how I could have disliked the dog.

My family stood by a fence which was probably less than a mile from my house. Facing towards it, with one food on one of two wooden bars that comprised it, we watched a sunset in the mountains. It was at this moment that I could not remember exactly when and why I had purchased the dog. It interrupted my homework. It peed places. It required a great deal of attention. Though it was a very cute critter, I did not want it. Why did I buy a dog? I could not remember. I recalled being in a "half-awake" state in the pet store. Had I made a conscious decision to buy it? I was also told that I had the dog for at least 4 years. I arbitrarily accepted this as true.

End.

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I don't know if most people look for moral lessons in their dreams. This dream, however, seemed to have a rather clear one: Do Not Buy Stuff Just to Buy Stuff.

I postulate I bought the dog just to buy something. The purple bucket, I am near sure, is a product of buying just to buy. All "sentimental" type objects or arbitrarily purchased in my dream had a negative connotation, such as the purple bucket.

Perhaps you were amused, maybe you even learned something. I hope this entry was not totally useless. Thank you, readers!