A Dream with a Bug

 
rant by Dereck
categories: Design 20, Dream
2006-09-26 23:19:04
 
I had a dream last night. Two dreams really. I know by now that I dream every night and simply do not recall them in the morning. I was told this by someone at some time in my life. Or I read it. I don't read often, though. Someone probably told me and I believed them. I should say, then, I suppose, that I recall two of the dreams that I had last night.

In my first dream, I was in my parent's garage. It's a pretty big garage, I should mention. It's open and has ample lighting. It's not creepy like some garages can be. In my dream, it is no different. I'm standing near the back door, which is closed. About 4 feet away from me, on the ground, is this tan-colored centipede. It's about 6 inches long, with a leg span of about 2 inches.

I could tell, even while dreaming, that this is not what a centipede looks like. Many years ago, my brother (or perhaps myself or my parents) had acquired a cheap plastic centipede. A toy, you could probably call it. It was from Wildwood, most likely. The kind of thing you get by dumping change into Skeeball machines for a few hours and collecting strips of tickets.

The plastic centipede eventually found its way onto one of the windowsills in my brother's room. There, it basked in the sun for a few years. Its various colors (I forget what it originally looked like) faded away and it slowly became covered by the carcasses of real bugs. I don't think that's irony precisely, but it is definitely something.

That's the last I recall of the plastic centipede. I imagine my brother threw it out when he was packing up for college. Nobody had any real attachment to it, myself included. I just happen to remember strange details.

Anyway, back to my dream. There I was in my parents garage, staring at this centipede that was supposed to be real. It was moving as I would imagine a centipede would. Its little legs were moving a lot. It did this little shimmy thing every now and again. It was moving slowly, though. I am fairly certain centipedes are quick-moving. They are named after their feet, after all.

I knew somehow that I was in there to get rid of the centipede. I don't recall how, but I ended up holding one of the rugs we have in my apartment. I rolled it up and proceeded to try and towel-whip the centipede. This angered it, and it scrunched up tightly, almost making a wavy 'w' shape. It was sticking out two legs or antennae from out front. I can almost recall a hissing noise, but I know it did not make any noises.

I woke up rather suddenly. I was a little confused. I couldn't figure out why that centipede was there, why I was there trying to get rid of the centipede (as opposed to running back into the house at the mere sight of the critter), or why I was using the carpet from my apartment to kill it. I sat awake in bed for a minute or two. I decided that the push-broom would be my ideal solution. I would sweep it into the back yard. It would have nowhere to hide or, if it did, I would know it'd be outside for a while.

And that was the first dream that I can remember.