Dorothy has Strange Dreams by Dorothy Bourgeois

This is the first in a series of essays by Dorothy D. We think you will love these journal-like musings on life, love, and really strange dreams.

I have really fucked up dreams, I always have. My mom used to have me tell her about them, and then draw pictures. Then she’d bring them to school (my mom’s a therapist) and they’d all have fun analyzing them.

The first dream that I remember having was when I was about three. I dreamt that I was in my backyard with Jesus; we were hanging out and talking. In the yard, on the grass, were hundreds of Easter eggs. They were different colors, with different patterns, and I would point to one, and Jesus would go over and pick it up. If I pointed to a blue egg, with pink polka dots, Jesus would pick it up and hold it in his hands, and a blue bird with pink polka dots would hatch out of the egg and fly away. Had I known about the water to wine thing, JC and I would’ve had more fun, but I was only three so the birds were cool.

A few years ago I had a dream that I was a spy. I was working undercover at a private school, trying to foil an evil headmaster, but I was exposed, literally. The headmaster had me lift up my skirt in front of the whole class, and then he sent me to the principal’s office. The Principle’s Office was a front, and he was really sending me to my death. The person who was bringing me to the office was going to let me go, but I told her that I had to go and face the future, and that I wasn’t scared, but first I had a favor to ask of her. I gave her a pink, white, and red heart-shaped coin purse. I told her that it contained my father’s ashes, and that I had been concealing it inside my vagina. I asked her to go into the forest and mix the ashes with kitty litter. And then I woke up. I thought that dream was strange—because my dad is still alive.

When I started dating my fake ex-boyfriend I had a really funny dream. I didn’t tell him about it, not totally, because I really wanted to see where our “relationship” would go. I didn’t want to scare him off with my dream; I figured that I’d rather scare him off gradually, with my personality. So right when we started dating I had a dream that I was in a train station, standing on the platform, and waiting for my train. The station was in a tunnel (you can see that the veil is thin here), the train pulled into the tunnel and I was about to get on. But the conductor started to shake his head, no. He looked me straight in the eye and telepathically communicated to me, he said, “This is not your train, the train you want is coming soon, but this is not it, do not get on this train”

The conductor was Fucking Fabio!

When I woke up all I could think how sad it was that Fabio, instead of God, was sending me messages on how to conduct my life; I’m a low rent Joan of Arc.