Ugh. Osteo at 6.30 this morning. Working backwards, this means I got up at 5.30, after a night of not-so-good sleeping.
In between being awake last night, I had the strangest dream.
It began with a small gathering to play word games, with my husband making up a challenge involving a word scramble of over forty words. (This is odd right from the start.) For some reason, this game had to be played at dawn. Ceri and I didn�t manage to work it out; Rob did. With no problems at all; just tossed the answer off. He was distracted and bitter, though, and something was terribly wrong.
I think I woke up a bit at this point, because I remember thinking that my husband (dear soul) is an unlikely sort to develop a word puzzle as extensive as the one he produced in the dream. The second part of the dream is disjointed enough that it feels inspired by the first, but not necessarily a continuation.
Rob asked Ceri to do a Tarot reading for him, and they went off somewhere. A bunch of us decided to go out for breakfast, and we saw Rob and Ceri at another table, so we asked our server to arrange for a larger table.
Here�s where it starts to get even more strange. Somehow I was still in puzzle/problem solving mode, so like an amateur detective I tracked down a tiny hidey-hole, and opened an inch-by-inch square in a wall, and dug with a single finger through hardened insulating foam to find a tiny key, which I withdrew and went right to an old white wood filing cabinet/night table thing (how do you know these things in dreams?), dug through more foam to find a tiny padlock, and unlocked it. Inside the drawers, under old shredded paper, were many thin envelopes of money � used envelopes, as in the kind of institutional envelopes in which you receive your monthly statements. The money was in large denomination bills, all used� none of this Hollywood stacks-o-new-cash thing. It looked like it was someone�s life savings, tucked away. In the lowest drawer there were floppy binders with more word games that I knew would lead to more money.
And it was all meant for Rob. I knew that, somehow.
I had someone call him over, and I gave it to him � envelopes, binders with more word games, everything. He was stunned to the core.
And you know, even with all the horrendous financial difficulty I�ve been in lately, I was happy to hand it to him. It was his. It never even crossed my mind that we could use it.
So, what does this mean? Probably something saccharine like I care about my friends� welfare even when I�m in a bad position. Or maybe that I�m hoping someone would do the same for me � just hand me envelopes and envelopes of money.
Or maybe it�s all about the word games, although I can�t think why; I lose patience with puzzles very quickly.
Eh. Whatever.