So I had this dream—most of it was the usual nonsensical twaddle about strange mythic beings in an abandoned city that vaguely resembled a dungeon crawl—but at the end, I wound up at a jewelry stall looking at necklaces.

There was one made of black basalt beads and silver spacers that I really liked, but it had one of those chiming pendants on it that drive me crazy—I feel like a belled cat—so I asked to switch out the pendant. The woman running the stall began pulling out all of these pendants in white and silver, carved like animals, and some of them came to life and ran away. We were debating the merits of an overly large silver fish when I saw a tail sticking out from a crack in the wall and pulled out a little alabaster mouse.

It curled up in my hands and I sang to it—and this is how you know it’s a dream, because I don’t sing unless I’m drunk or alone in the car—

Go to sleep
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
little mousie

 

Go to sleep
Fare thee well
you were always
just a mousie.

 

And it went to sleep, and then it was just a little carving of a mouse, and I said “I’ll take this one.”

And then I woke up and it was after ten and I had overslept, probably because of the shot of tequila I had last night when we discovered that my upcoming book tour has had some scheduling snafus. But it was still nifty.

  • reply Liddle-Oldman ,

    I love that dream!

    Be interesting to think when you might want to wake the mouse up, too…

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