A Sea Dream

I apparently work at a restaurant. When I arrive at my job, which is in the kitchen, or maybe the dishwashing area, I feel casual and relaxed, but a bit absent-minded. There’s no sense of rushing around or tons of work to do. Maybe it’s after hours and I’m just there to finish up a few things.

My friend comes over to stay the night. I’m at my childhood home, and X is also there. I think I must be somewhere between late teens and mid twenties. My friend and I have a good time; she lights two taper candles, and somehow they are guides or rules or measures or something — as if we refer to them throughout the evening. When she leaves, X makes some not-so-nice remarks about her, about the candles, about her being obsessive-compulsive or something. I don’t really stick up for my friend. Perhaps I am anxious to keep the peace, to not ruffle even a tiny feather.

X and I also talk about a guy I think I’ve fallen in love with. Apparently I’m not married in this dream. I regret telling her as much as I do, as if I’m not sure I can trust her with such personal information, as if she might use it against me somehow.

Outside the window, I see my cat (the cat I have now, not the one I had in that house; both cats are strictly indoors), sitting nonchalantly while a penguin-ish creature meanders around nearby. It’s not a penguin. The wings are notched a bit, and the head is strange. I don’t remember if it’s a human head or not.

I should have done nothing. But I said something, or called out, or talked to the thing, and drew its evil attention. Whatever it is, it’s evil, and not something whose attention I want.

I go into the bathroom to take a shower or a bath. The power’s out. X goes into the closet in our room (“our” refers to my older sister and me) and throws the circuit breaker. Gradually the lights start to work again.

Taking showers is a recurring theme in some of my dreams; almost always there are complications, like people coming in and out, a door that won’t close, a shower curtain that is too short, the fixtures not working right, getting distracted and not remembering what I’ve washed and what I haven’t, and so on. This shower is the same way.

Throughout all the complications, eventually the room disappears and the tub, with its curtain, is floating in the sea.

Some girl flips up over the edge and lands in the bottom of the tub. She’s not a mermaid or a dolphin, but moves like one, and lies in the bottom like one. She strikes me as a ditzy diva type, a cool girl, someone who would normally have nothing to do with me. I’m not sure why she’s there, whether she’s using the tub to hide from something, or whether she wants something from me, or what. I am displeased but I don’t do anything decisive to get her to leave.

We see the penguin creature some more — do I talk to it more? — and speculate about its identity. She seems to think it’s not a demon. Something evil, but not a demon.

Eventually X (X was there, too?) calls out that it’s coming.

Far off, we see the thing turn around and face me, and start running (swimming? flying?) towards me.

I cower in the bottom of the tub, but gradually realize that hiding is not going to help — the thing is going to reach us, and if I just hide, I’m actually helping it win.

I stand and, with all the force of my will, shout “no” — and it works, and I realize I am a Jedi, and I am still scared, but I feel powerful, and I am a little gleeful, but also a little scared and uncertain about the power.

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