Welcome to Dream Interpretation for Dummies, where Dear Abby meets Native Americana. Come to the campfire, peer into the yawning grave, and take a dive into the collective subconscious… or maybe just explore some weird clown imagery. We’ll wait for you here.
Howdy Note: This dream has been very lightly edited. Everything you are about to read has already happened, is happening, will happen…
Another Howdy Note: This week’s special guest dream, and all dreams in this newsletter, is sponsored by the Ann Friedman Weekly. Your support makes my fellowship possible!
Dear Howdy,
This morning, in between waking up too early and waking up for real to start my day, I dreamed that I was walking around a friend's neighborhood. She wasn't with me, but I felt she was nearby. On the streets, all kinds of people were hanging out on their front porches and yards in small groups — it was convivial, fun. A big topic of conversation was that the neighborhood dogs were drinking up too much water. All of the potable water! And here in California, in a drought! Everyone loved the dogs but was concerned about the amount of water they were drinking. Then an older gentleman pulled me aside and told me, almost conspiratorially, that he had the perfect solution. He showed me a hose with a hole drilled in it and a funnel stuck into the hole. Suddenly he was holding a martini glass, and he emptied it into the funnel. "Dogs hate gin," he told me. I can't recall if somehow I understood that this would solve the problem with the water or not. But I did instantly know it to be true: Dogs would taste the gin in the water and go, "Blech."
Am I somehow the pack of thirsty dogs? Even though I love gin martinis?
Signed,
Ann Friedman
Dear Ann,
Thank you for the gift of your dream. What a lovely treat to have our patron traipsing through Dreamland with us! This week, after a long and beleaguering sickness, my dear friend Hannah came up for a visit. We had Vietnamese food and artisanal ice cream and laughed until our cheeks hurt. I read to her aloud from a manuscript, and then the next morning, we went to have breakfast sandwiches and lattes at a quiet little cafe right across the state line. There, I saw a pride flag and a twisting, archaic-looking machine used, the barista told us, for cold brew. That night, I had the kindest dreams I’ve had in weeks, uninhibited by DayQuil and Benadryl. This all to say, I am refreshed and ready to tackle your questions.
So, martini-less, into your dream we go: This dream comes to you in a transitory period, a daybreak hour. It’s always comforting, even if we don’t see them when our friends join us on a sojourn. Their presence is a reminder. The world, which so often feels filled with ash and pain, is sunny and bright. We have, in these past years, been separated from each other, but in Dreamland we are presented with an alternate reality, where things past are brought back to us in the present. Still, those pesky neighborhood dogs, who are usually buoyant with wagging tails and tennis balls, are contributing to greater anxiety.
This older gentleman, who presents himself as an arbiter of wisdom, though kindly, has a wild plan. It feels, almost, like a Scooby-Doo villain trap. Something so zany it just couldn’t work, but it somehow does, and we, the audience, are left in a suspenseful kind of awe. In my first pass-through of this dream, I was especially concerned with the gin. Gin, if you didn’t know, is a shortened form of the word genever, which is related to a French word, which in turn is derived from a Latin word meaning juniper. Juniper trees, mystically speaking, take on a meaning of strength, of hardiness. Juniper trees grow in harsh and rocky climates. Climates that are, in general, incredibly drought-ridden. They grow in places other plants can’t. They survive and are more beautiful for it.
In my “expertise,” I can’t say that this is a sign of something, but I do think it’s a message tailor-made for you, an Iowa delphinium carolinianum (Prairie Larkspur) transplanted into California. It says to embrace the absurdity of life. Of the unexplainable and the profound of the daily. You’ll be better for it, even if it’s difficult, even if it feels impossible.
I hope this helped. I hope you know you’re not a thirsty pack of dogs, even if your wants feel overwhelming. I’m sending you a dream of a grassy, green field. There are blooming wildflowers of all colors of the rainbow, and you are finally, if only for a moment, at perfect peace. Let me know if you get it.
See you on the other side,
Howdy
Fancy a trip to Dreamland, pardner? Send your best to sadboyhowdy@gmail.com!