Earlier this week I had a dream.
Lisa (my wife), Watson (my dog), and I visited my parents only to find that they had purchased a new dog. The unsettling thing was that the dog was identical to our Watson with one subtle distinction: the dog had two heads. This dog insisted on following me everywhere I went. At one point I had to change my clothes in the room that had once been my bedroom, and naturally I wanted privacy from this strange dog (by strange, I mean unfamiliar). However, the two-headed Watson clone would not have it. He insisted on sharing my privacy. I ran into the bedroom and tried to slam the door shut, but the dog forced his way through before I could lock myself in. The dog of super strength, having gained entrance to my once sacred domain, lunged at me, knocking me onto my back. He was on top of me, both heads furiously licking my face. I struggled and writhed but the dog was the victor. In the midst of futile resistance, I awoke from my dream with a start, relieved to see, lying asleep on the floor next to my own bed, my single-headed Watson.
This dream has been troubling me all week, and I am looking for a (non-Freudian) interpretation.
Originally Posted: Tuesday, November 3, 2006
(Then) Curent Mood: confused