kalibex: (sabbath)
( Feb. 21st, 2017 06:35 am)
Spent time in an interior; typical 'Should I be here? Should I let the residents see me? Maybe I should get out...' thought patterns. This one seemed to be a regular house, with a couple who'd been together a long time; seemed like it might be an anniversary or something. I was thinking I should stay away from both, but was more 'wary' of the male than the female. At least, when I realized she'd seen me, wasn't as worried as when he saw me later. At one point I was dragging a 'bag' which may have had 'dirty water' in it, almost like something related to the toilet? which I was struggling to not spill on the floor. Funny way to not be seen... which of course makes me wonder if, again, I was 'supposed' to be there, just assumed I wasn't. Though I (stood in a corner) started to converse with either the male 'husband' or a possible third male in the building. Some of it was in French (or my attempt at French). The 'husband' seemed to have made something homemade for his wife for their anniversary; I asked him if it was of wood. 'C'est a bois?' Something like that. Weird.

* * *

Either a new scene or a continuation of the first one; I went out to a shed which reminded me of some at my childhood home; there was a small caged area for a couple of small banty type chickens, but another for what looked like a couple of rats. One 'rat' seemed to suddenly be hurt; I felt as if I was somehow responsible. Whether I was or not wasn't clear; perhaps it tried to get out and got wounded when I went to look at it. It suddenly seemed to have a big scrape/wound, and I made sure it was secured in the cage, but felt quite bad about it. A bit later, though, I went by the cage again and the rat seemed still alive; though rubbing or scratching at itself. I hoped that meant it was healing/itching.

* * *

Crap; I forget this sequence until after I'd fully woken up! I think it was from the early part of the night (there was a middle of the night pit stop). I seemed to be in my parents' place, and a dangerous tornado (okay; redundant) approached. Big, scary grey funnel, etc. I went to warn my parents that we needed to all tumble down into the cellar, and ended up picking up and carrying my (now in Real Lifeā„¢ 2 years deceased) Mom (who seemed limp, corpse-like, and very light and flexible - but too light, so not as she or anyone would be as a corpse). My recall ends before I know if we made it to safety or where my Dad was, etc.


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