Kafka anyone?

I know some of you will recall the term "grody," c. 1983. It's the about the best one I can think of for this particular bug--one of many gnarly insectile dreams lately.

Anyway, I was in the bedroom and noticed a waist-high bug in the closet, which I pointed out to my husband. It was spindly and had a red thorax; it looked as if it were made out of Tinkertoys or a German building set. I felt very claustrophobic with the thing around, and at one point, one of its antennae touched me. I knew it was poisonous, and that made me very nervous. My husband and I boxed the thing up and were trying to find an animal control officer who would take it from us. What's interesting is that even though it wasn't organic and creepy but instead mechanized and model-like, the bug still scared the bejesus out of me.

On Longing

I was with another, unidentified female in an industrial urban area, when we heard a cry for help. Someone was being beaten up, and I knew exactly who it was: someone I'd had a pretty intense crush on a couple years back (in waking life). Let's call him P. I really wanted to go along with my friend to help P., and hoped he would be glad to see me.

We had to cross a gully or chasm or river of some kind, and there he was, near a water tower. I can still see the Xs and white lattice stairs of the structure in my mind. In fact, the whole scene was spare and suggestive, like a set for a Beckett play. We got to where P. was and his face was turned away. My friend made him guess the name of the person she'd brought along and he (eventually) guessed my name. I felt so much love for him as we wiped the blood off his face and brought him away. There is a kind of longing felt only in dreams, and this particular dream was fueled by that feeling.