In my dreams I own a property in Wivenhoe, a small bungalow inherited from my late Nana. The property has remained stable throughout all the twists and turns of the dreamscape, always in the same location, near the top of Wivenhoe high street. It was to feature again in last night's dream, but only briefly. I was visiting Colchester to see family, planning to stay Wednesday to Sunday at my friend Dan's house, who was also in Wivenhoe. Before I could settle in, his uncle unexpectedly visited, who also wanted to stay with Dan. Because there was only one spare room, I was rather forcibly persuaded to concede the room to his uncle. It was at that point I remembered about my own property, so the situation was resolved, and unpleasantness avoided.
I discovered that my parents had sold all of their dogs, every last one. I was very surprised about this, as the dogs have always been my Mammy's pride and joy. She was tired of them barking, weeing everywhere, and destroying the house, so one day she snapped and put them all up for sale. I told her that it was cruel on Pierre, the eldest dog, who is suffering badly from arthritis. The younger dogs would have no problem finding a new home, but Pierre was too big and too old. I also discovered that she had given my Nana's dog, Bonnie, who I owned in the dream, to my sister Camella. I asked if I could have her back, as she usually stayed at the bungalow. They said she had developed a disorder where twice a day she would gush ambiotic liquid down her hind legs and make puddles all over the floor, whilst convulsing in pain. This rather put me off, but I pushed my claim.
Later that afternoon, I visited the town with my family. I had heard there was a Harry Potter shopping street newly opened, and my daughter, who is a big fan, wanted to go. Before I could find it, a black man wearing an elaborate costume came strutting into town. His wardrobe was a cross between an Egyptian king in leopard print toga, and a Brazilian carnival dancer with a plumed headdress. He announced that it was the Jewish Parade, to celebrate the rich diversity and mythology of Jewish culture. More people arrived, all looking like figures from the Bible, or oriental kings and barbarians. The leader of the parade shouted, "Bring in the Hierophants!" Great beasts lumbered up the street in single file. They walked on two legs but had the grey and wrinkled aspect of elephants, heads resembling hooded cobras, with small pouting mouths ringed by sharp teeth. On their backs they carried sacks that look suspiciously as though they contained human bodies.
"I don't remember these from Jewish mythology," I commented to one of my sisters. As they plodded past us, I had a chance for a closer look, and they appeared more serpent-like, but with a hint of manta-ray. Their fluted mouths were rather like a lamprey's. I learned that the sacks on their backs did indeed contain people, who were in a state of torpor and would later be transferred to a spot beneath the creature's hoods, held in place with a sticky residue. The person would slowly fuse with the flesh of the Hierophant, becoming embalmed in a fleshy cocoon. Typically the hood of the creature would remain closed during the day and only fan open at night, where the victim would be 'aired', a process necessary for the digestion process, which was in indeed their ultimate fate, to be absorbed by the creature. The victims would turn putrid shades of yellow and green as their nutrients were slowly siphoned away.
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