Dreams and flying rottweilers

I keep notes from most of my dreams.

The other night I had a wild one.  It was night, so the sky was dark, and it was windy and cloudy. There were no stars, and the moon was a sliver high in the sky. I couldn’t see the ground clearly – it was all shadows and rough edges. I fell a lot. Couldn’t get good traction, and close on the back of my head, and heels and hips were two attack-dogs. Rottweilers. And they had monstrous black wings.

In the real world, I have never met a rottie that wasn’t a teddy bear in a dog suit, but that dog that attacked out of my subconscious was out for blood.

If I didn’t write it down, those rotties would resurface. My subconscious would hold onto that memory and bubble it up in the middle of a sequence where I needed an image like that.

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