I’m in a house. It is my house, but it doesn’t look like my current house or any other I’ve ever been in. There are a lot of people there. I go upstairs and go into the attic. There is a gaping hole in the ceiling and water is dripping through. Damn! How did that happen? I go over and pick up the beach towels that were stored in that corner and they are covered with mold, one so much that the edge has been eaten away. That one will have to be thrown away, but the other one should be okay. I turn around and am startled because suddenly in front of me is this honeycomb like structure that is gigantic; it is about three feet wide and goes all the way up to the ceiling. There are little black beads in the holes and I get the impression that they are larvae of some type. I am completely squicked out and scream and jump back. There is a can of Lysol sitting on a box, and I grab it and spray the entire can on the honeycomb. Even in the dream I remember thinking, “Lysol doesn’t work against these kinds of bugs,” but I did it anyway.
I’m on a plane. I’m sitting fairly close to the front, and it must have been years ago, because I can actually see through to the cockpit window. I’m fretting that I’m going to be late and miss a concert. The pilot calls back over his shoulder that we are stacked. There is another plane that zooms over the top of us and immediately does a roll to land in front of us. I think I hope to hell he’s not going to do that to us.
We land, and I am fretting because I’m afraid I’m going to miss the event. They tell me that the nurse that looked at the little boy from the last time I was here wants to talk to me. She inexplicably pulls out a stethoscope and listens to my heart and says “It’s still racing.” I say, “It is not; it’s fine.” She puts her hand on my chest and says “It’s still racing.” I am getting really pissed; why is a nurse listening to my heart to begin with, and damn, I am so sick of doctors telling me I don’t know what is going on with my own body. I pull away from her. There is another person there who is criticizing me for bringing two lawn chairs. She tells me that the big one will be too large to carry, and I should just take the small one. I look at the two of them and folded up they are almost identical shape. I am so pissed. Why is everyone messing with me like this?
Then I am in a large warehouse type building. Something nefarious is going on, and I am trying to either put something or get something out of the trash before the big baddie sees me. This part of the dream isn’t very clear, but it involves me going through the fence gate into my front yard and messing with something underneath the tree by the garage.
Dutifully logged for your amusement.