This one was really bizarre, and I don’t know what to make of it.
Dream-me is a real person, sort of, but based on a character from a TV show, sort of? I’m played by Victoria Principal, if she were still in her, hmm, maybe late 30s. My co-star is Patrick Duffy, who is maybe in his early 50s. We are sort of based on Pam and Bobby Ewing, of Dallas fame. Except that my character is . . . an angel. Sort of. I’ve got white wings, and sometimes I know things Bobby doesn’t. But I’m not omniscient or powerful; I don’t seem to have “powers”; I can’t fly.
Bobby is living in a full-suite apartment in a building owned by someone he doesn’t like or trust. He’s single, and kind of crotchety.
When the dream starts, I’ve arrived at his apartment, and am looking around while trying to make conversation. That’s difficult because he is distracted, frustrated about lots of things, and making no attempt to be polite or personable. I’m nervous, though, because I want him to like me and I’m not sure he does, so I keep trying.
At some point I become aware something very strange is happening outside. I’m looking down into the (city) street below, maybe 4 stories up, and people have gotten out of their cars, and are gawking at the sky, which is boiling with oddly-colored clouds.
Because I’m an angel (?), I know a little bit of something about it. I’m about to say something to Bobby, when . . . the sun goes out. Sort of like a solar eclipse, only, it’s not coming back. It turns black. The sky starts darkening.
Bobby is muttering something about how there’s enough sunshine in the atmosphere to last three days. But when I say, in a strangled voice, “Bobby, the sun’s just gone out!”, he suddenly starts paying attention to me (and doesn’t seem aware he spoke before).
He frantically starts packing stuff so we can flee. Everywhere I look in his apartment, there are old clothes of mine that I haven’t seen for years. It’s hard to figure out which ones I should take: how long will we be gone? Will it get desperately cold right away? [Subtext: isn’t everybody going to die almost immediately? So what difference does any of this stuff right now make?]
I set out Bobby’s underwear so he can easily find it. I start pulling together my own underwear, and socks, along with these colorful (old and beloved) sweaters I keep finding. The sweaters are bulky, so I keep thinking, “I’m going to need another bag. How am I going to carry all this stuff?”
Bobby calls out to me not to forget underwear. I tell him I’m on it; that his underwear is in the other room, with him.
He’s frantically looking for a flashlight. I say they will probably be impossible to buy. I run across a small flashlight of my own, and pack it without mentioning it.
At some point, we become aware we have a personal enemy, a woman. She and her crew are somehow watching us, through mirrored glass. I suddenly see things from her perspective. She’s in a control room that looks like a high school gym. Everyone’s wearing black. She’s gleefully laughing about how dire our situation is. Wondering what else she can do to make things even more miserable for us.
I’m back in Bobby’s apartment. I need to go to the bathroom. There are two toilets, almost next to each other, but neither one is behind a closed door, and I want that privacy. I try to unobtrusively shoo Bobby into other areas of the apartment. But I also ask him, with trepidation, if his kids might not have “messed with the plumbing”. I say this partially because the toilet I’m about to use is the smallest toilet I’ve ever seen, and doesn’t seem to be connected to water or sewer pipes. There is water in the bowl, but I fear some kind of trick. He assures me everything’s fine, and I sit down on it.
Later still, the sky has gotten really dark. (Although now no other people seem to be around.) We are in a frenzy of packing, but Bobby also teases me sexually, then pulls away right before I’m about to orgasm. After several rounds, I beg him to “finish”. As I do that, I see a book on the bed, detailing some sort of medical issue Bobby’s had, affecting his sexual performance. I feel torn, in case he’s feeling anxious, but he doesn’t seem to be.
At the very end, some kind of light comes back on in the sky. It’s not the sun. The light is a much brighter white than sunlight: it’s whiter, it’s at a different temperature (presumably different wavelengths). I worry even more than I had been about what animals and plants are going to do. With these weird wavelengths, will they get what they need?
When the dream was happening, I vaguely remember ‘knowing’ things Bobby didn’t know, presumably because I was an angel. But now I don’t recall what they were.
I didn’t fly, despite the wings. I don’t think I’d always had the wings, but don’t know how I got them. (My old and beloved sweaters didn’t have holes for the wings.) Sometimes I acted kind of kittenish with Bobby: unsure of myself, but also wanting to please, hoping I was appealing. But other times, I was very confident and capable.
Including when we were having sex, but also every other instance I can think of, Bobby never seem to be thinking about me, or wondering how I was feeling. He never tried to be helpful to me. He was completely self-contained, and that self remained crotchety and misanthropic.
I never did find out what was actually going on. Did our enemy somehow cause the sun to go out? Did God? Did Lucifer? No idea whatsoever.
God was not in the dream, nor were there any other angels.
I never got the sense we were actually on TV, nor that we were filming for TV. And yet, if TV was not involved, why was Patrick Duffy not himself, but Bobby Ewing? Why was I Victoria-Principal-playing-Pam-Ewing-(sort-of)-as-an-angel?
What happened to the people in the streets? What city were we in?
What did happen to the plants and animals?
Did everybody die right away?
This dream was so disturbing, I was going to ignore it. I didn’t write any of it down (in my dream journal). But I couldn’t get it out of my mind. So here it is.