DREAM TWENTY-ONE

Mom and I are sitting at the kitchen table, a saffron colored veneer from my childhood. A single blanket is tucked around our waists, and covers our legs. Some ‘snake expert’ warns me earlier in the dream that we will be visited by a snake.

Sure enough, one emerges from a fold in the blanket. Mom freaks out and shakes a finger at it. It bites her hand and she becomes hysterical. Now things are out of control and I feel compelled to grab the serpent by the throat. I pinch it with two fingers like they do on TV. The snake is less than two feet, but I’m impressed with its strength. Having seen its teeth, I know it’s venomous, but it is also doing some insane constrictor maneuvers with its tail. It is working its way out of my grasp. I run into another room in the house. I find dad sitting at his desk, correcting papers and biting his cuticles. My brother is also in the room reading a book. I implore them to help me, but all they can do is stare, unaffected.