The Dream of Eight and Ivy

I dreamt I visited a girl and her family. They owned a pet dog, a pet cat, and a pet panther. The little dog (so wee) was the leader of the lot, even of the family. The pets padded freely from room to room, but the girl lived in a dug-out pen and smiled at me her guest.

To reach my hosts, I drove my car to a strange 'space-warp' in Minnesota - namely a roadmaze leading to a Figure-Eight Motorway without an exit. One of its loops was much bigger than the other - so it was a lopsided 8. The INSIDES of the loops sunk much lower than the ‘Eightway ’. My girl host lived smack in the middle of the smaller loop, and there was no road to her home except for muddy and dug-out paths.

On my return journey, I entered a heart-pushing rushing realm of limbs and leaves overhead. They clothed the road in green, and I lurched to reach a firey sunset lit over the edge of a meadow, as if it were an entry to paradise. I was cycling.

My wheels went along great bicycle pathways shooting high (in upside down U-Arches) over freeways. The lanes were hidden by high walls so grown with ivy and creepers that a cyclist's skyline was quite masked by leaves. So I pedaled forward ‘by faith’, occasionally peeking up over and down the leaf-line when I paused on the highest hill brows.