Dream LXXIII

I was at my mother’s house preparing to rest in the guest bedroom. A servant came in to lower the movie screen in case I wanted to watch something.

I asked him if that was really necessary that he do that, and he said, “Well, I suppose you could project them on the ceiling.” He was quite condescending. Also, his face was chameleonic, taking on the green, patterned color of the wallpaper behind his head.

He then flipped a switch, and instead of a screen descending, the ceiling light exploded in a shower of sparks. Looking more inconvenienced than sorry, he went off to make repairs.

I lay down to rest, but before I could sleep a small black dog ran into the room. It was wearing a sweater and a tam-o-shanter, and was also trailing a leash. It ran energetically in a semi-circle and came up to me.

“Meow,” I said to it, and as it looked disappointedly at me, I realized I’d made the wrong kind of sound. The dog turned to leave and I meow`d after it.

The servant came back in to lower the screen. He went back to the switch and I said, “can’t I just lower it manually, by pulling on a handle or something?” I got off the bed and looked for the screen but couldn’t find it.

“I suppose you could do it that way,” the servant said dismissively, again adding the idea of watching movies on the ceiling. His face was a reddish burgundy. He flipped the switch again and every circuit in the house blew. I couldn’t see his face, but I hoped he looked suitably embarrassed. I doubted he did, though.