Sep 16 2003
Fires
I don’t usually remember my dreams. When I do, they’re often so demented and strange that I have developed a theory to explain this while excusing myself from insanity. Once you go to sleep, your brain is off work, so it goes out to play. Hence the weird dreams.
I do remember having a dream about a fire last night, and it reminded me of a real fire when I was a girl.
We lived in the country, and our nearest neighbors were farmers. It was in the summer, and it was still light outside, so I really didn’t want to go to bed. To that end, I kept asking my Dad for various things: to be tucked in, a glass of water, etc. When I ran out of ideas, Dad had long ago run out of patience. I got out of bed and went to sit in my window seat, which looked over the neighbor’s fields. I noticed a strange glow in the sky, and I called out to Dad to tell him. He came running up the stairs, absolutely furious, and looked out of my window. He said “Oh my God” and ran out of the house, followed by his faithful dog Ginger.
Dad discovered that there was a creek between our house and the neighbor’s by running through it and ruining his pants. Swearing, he arrived to find that the barn was on fire. He and the neighbor managed to rescue all the animals in the barn before it collapsed in a blaze. The firemen arrived and put it out, and the fire didn’t spread to the house.
Naturally, all this excitement excused us from bed. My brother came downstairs wrapped in a blanket and got the cookie jar (which contained Oreos with mint filling – I don’t think they make this varietal now), and we went and sat on the front steps, eating cookies and watching the glow and sparks of the fire. From time to time, my brother said, “I’m scared”, but he certainly didn’t seem to be, even at the time, and if he was, it didn’t slow his consumption of cookies. It’s funny to think that he is now a country fireman himself.