I went to sleep last night giving myself a strong instruction: None of those horrid waking dreams, please! Such dreams are always about “going home,” but I’m usually lost in an urban landscape, and the landscape always gets ever more horrid. Then, as bad conditions escalate, I wake up in an effort to get away. The process is more fully described here.
Well, during the night that followed I had only one waking dream. In it I was at home and heard the doorbell ring. It had a single chime, meaning the back door—where craftsmen usually ring the bell—rather than multiple chimes, meaning the front door. Then I had the image of a huge yellow, big-wheeled shovel on the driveway. This woke me up.
Evidently “myself” had gotten the message—and when the time had come for me to wake up, it woke me up without the help of horror stories. You might say. Having such a shovel put to work in my yard would, of course, be a bit of a tale of woe!
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