Last night held a strange collection of dreams–in fact, it was mostly dreams about premonition dreams. Everything was rather vivid in the dream world.
The latter, more vivid and easily remembered dream involved Kim and I out camping. It had to be at a ren faire or SCA event–as it was, strangely, in the middle of a stadium and there were lots of tapestries, coats of arms, and people in the proper time period's garb. We had been there for a few days. A lot of the obscure stuff I learned from Boy Scouts and never really use in the “real world” came back to me, and I was showing people how to lash together poles to make structures, tie particular knots, and the like. One evening, when we were asleep in our tent, I had a dream. In the dream, I was wandering around and returned to out tent. Inside, a little girl with wide, wild eyes was crouched over a Boggle game. At least, I think it was Boggle–that is the grid of letter-dice that you use to spell the most words, right? She told me I had to change the “C” to a “D,” as she pulled out the die with “C” on it, flipped it around, and reinserted it in the grid with the “D” showing, “so that I couldn't spell crash.” She also noted the “eye is out of place.” Sure enough, one of the dice had a weird eye symbol diagonally across it. She pulled it out, rotated it 90 degrees, then put it back where it was. She did something similar to the letter “I.” At this point, the sound of a helicopter woke me from this dream-within-a-dream, back to the dream of being asleep in a tent. In fact, it was the sound of a helicopter, but slightly off somehow. My eyes opened crazy and wide, I grabbed Kim, and pulled us out of the tent and to the edge of the stadium, narrowly avoiding the out of control helicopter crashing onto the campsite. Only later do I learn that this was a Channel-something-or-other Eyewitness News 'coptor taking video of the event from above–for some human-interest story or as the background to the weather guy's talk.
In a separate dream, earlier in the evening, I would dream about a talking dog (as the dream-within-the dream.) It would tell me various things about people, which were invariably true and often secret or private. I would share this information with Kim, but we would not tell others about it. After all, talking dogs–even dreamworld ones–were a bit odd. Dogs that told you private things about people were even worse. The “Son of Sam” serial killer comes to mind, in which his neighbor's dog would tell him to kill people. Every once in a while we would go to a dinner party and some comment or some object in the room would cause us to catch each other's eye and giggle a bit under our breath–a little shared bit of knowledge that we were not supposed to know, but did somehow know thanks to the dreamworld talking dog.