Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Sunday, 22 December 2019
Dream ANALysis: The Witcher And The Bitcher
I’m in the TV room. In my easy chair. I have the blanket pulled up, sawing logs after a long but satisfying hike with the dawgs. The hike was probably too long. I’m in that warm golden cloud of sleep where all is well, comfortable, warm and cozy as the TV murmers to itself in the background.
A jarring scuffle intrudes.
Again, only louder and more harsh this time. My daughter’s room. I hear her screech with fury and outrage behind the closed door. What’s going on in there? It’s 100 years ago, she’s a toddler again, and I am young again too. At first I’m annoyed. It’s always something with that kid. A fella can’t even steal a few winks in the afternoon with that damn kid getting into trouble, I thought angrily to myself. Now the scuffling noises in her room grow panicked and louder. She starts to scream in terror. Something is in the room with her. I didn’t know what it was, only that it was something awful. And I find myself paralyzed. The screams turn from fury to fright... and I remain rooted. The house shakes from the impacts going on in that room. Blood starts to seep under the door. I wake up.
So I find myself in bed, all is well. And I wake up this Sunday morn in a strange state of discord and at odds with myself. The wife cuts a big billowing fart. (Or maybe it was me. Oh - there’s Pooh in the sheets; that’s definitely me! HAR HAR HAR!!!😆👍)). Macey snores softly at the foot of the bed. Mort guards at his post downstairs at the big window in the living room. 5 bells and all’s well. JFC... what kind a dream was that?
In the dream - did I stay anchored in place by an outside influence? Or was it by choice? Was I craven? Afraid to confront my daughter’s monsters? Was that dream a metaphor for all the rivers of bad blood between us?
Or was it because I’d fallen asleep yesterday afternoon in my chair watching the first few exciting episodes of The Witcher on Netflix as I gobbled Christmas baking? Good grief! That fuggin show was written the usual lesbian authors that dream of a fantasy world where they ride around on dragons playing with the elves and faggots in the shire or killing men! I fell asleep in the first episode and woke up in the fourth to a scene where the hunch backed woman has her uterus, her ovaries and Fallopian tubes pulled out and burned in a sacrificial fire. That scene alone must have had every pink pussy hatter and she-twink in Hollywood hooting and gibbering at the moon in rage! HAR HAR HAR!!! This latest Netflix series is your usual social justice lecture where angry women rule and battle monsters and villains who are all played by evil white men. I can’t recommend it to anyone with a triple digit IQ.
I gotta stop watching crappy TV while eating crappy food! Today I’m going to get up early and knock off the chores early. Then I’m going to go clear my mind with a healthy breakfast and some disciplined archery practice. Then I’ll join the wife at church. GAH ...! What a way to start a day!
Hope you’re off to a good start! Have a great Sunday... and keep your distance from the TV.