Tuesday, 6 March 2007

A Horrible Dream

by Charles Pooter

I suppose it is self-indulgent to tell others your dreams—why should they care? But, in the run up to Lovecraft Day, I thought it appropriate to share with you the macabre nightmare that caused me to awaken in a cold sweat in the early hours of this morning. I don't claim it makes any sense:

I dreamt I woke up in the realisation I was getting married that morning. I looked in the mirror to find that my hair was no longer closely-cropped, but that it had somehow reverted to the long, lank, greasy state it was when I was nineteen years old. I yelled in shock and attempted, in vain, to tidy it. There was a knock at the door and I was told by a voice outside to hurry up. I left the room and met my best man. I can't claim to remember his appearance from the dream, but he wasn't anyone I knew. He escorted me by dream-transport to the wedding.

The wedding was in a church or temple and many people were gathered, but I didn't recognise any of them. My bride was waiting for me, but my view of her and the Minister was obscured by the murk that often obscures a night's imaginings. There was no music at this wedding, but there was a dance: a bizarre, formalised waltz like something from the 18th Century. There was also a speech, although I can't remember the content.

I found myself confused about why I couldn't recognise anyone. I looked around, trying to find a familiar face. Suddenly I noticed that I did recognise someone: a childhood friend, Lenny, with whom I still met up periodically whenever I went home. He was standing next to me accompanied by a woman. The woman was dressed provocatively in what I would describe as an Arabian courtesan's outfit: lots of jewelry and revealing lace. I did not recognise the woman. I smiled at Lenny and he smiled back.

"Welcome to the club" he said.

In my dream I nodded and smiled, but I was confused. Lenny was not married, why was he implying that he was?

Soon after this, I woke up. It was then that I remembered something about Lenny that I had forgotten in my dream or that was negated by the evidence of my senses. Lenny was dead. He died last year after more than a year in a coma. He had been involved in a traffic accident.

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