So in the dream, I'm walking down Lougheed Highway in Maple Ridge, around 228th, near where the casino is. I'm not sure if that area is all developed now but it used to be a big field and gully. Some wild area may remain, in fact; it certainly did in my dream. Anyhow, I really needed to pee, and, as I had done before, I walked onto a grassy trail, away from traffic, looking for a good spot. Before I could find one, I saw, watching me, an angry raccoon.
I immediately started to back towards the road, bladder full, heart racing, as the raccoon came closer. I could see it crawling along a ditch to my left: it had gotten wet in the dirty water, and - as I wondered whether it might be rabid or something - it sort of lost its raccoon-shape and took the form of something between a small bloody poodle and one of the mutant baby-bear monsters from the film Prophecy. I didn't want it to attack me, so I made what was meant to be a scary sound, to drive it away. It came out sounding like a strangled coyote's howl: "aroo- garoo- garoo- ghuhrooo- gah" or such. Never did get to pee, but even in my dream, my cries sounded strange to my ear.
Shift to a rather different dream, and I'm back in my childhood home, again in Maple Ridge, and I am a child, and there's a loud weird sound in the kitchen downstairs of dishes clattering. I think it's because my father has come home and can't find his key; I have the key, so I tell my mother, in the bedroom next to mine, not to be afraid, I will investigate. The sound was so loud, though, that it wakes me up with a start, and I really do need to pee, so I move to get out of bed.
Erika, awake beside me, asks, "I gotta ask: what were you dreaming?"
Turns out no dishes clattered in the kitchen, but yep, I was lying in bed beside her, going "aroogaroogarooghuhrooogah." Quote: "it was quite a weird sound to wake up to."
It still has nothing on the time I thought she was a Korean guy who had eaten all my Chinese food at a school meeting. To show him my displeasure, I grabbed him by the belly and started to squeeze with my fingers, to wake up to Erika's distressed cries: "What are you doing? That hurts!"
She was far more entertained by my strangled coyote-cry... we just had a good 6am laugh over it, as I explained my dream to her. ("You didn't find a place to pee before now, did you?" ...because I believe I have told her of the time that I dreamed I was Frank Zappa, sitting on a toilet, peeing, and woke up to discover that I was not Frank Zappa, was not sitting on a toilet... but I was peeing, in the bed.
Not this bed, not her bed/ our bed, not this dream, mind you. I made it to the toilet just fine, laughing at myself as the water flowed out of me...
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