Dream of Ms. Doolittle

This dream began with a long story about the peace lily that I recently put to sleep for failure to thrive due to owner neglect. In the dream the lily was still alive, and what remained of its leaves were fresh young and green, but bunched up. I had scrunched them accidentally. I put out an email to people asking for help. I finally had some good advice from the plant's namesake, Doris, and was ready to put it to use. I just had to find a binder clip; surely I had some at my desk. But due to a series of strange events, all of them slightly beyond my control, the plant was now high above me on a kind of wire pulley system. And I must try to reel it back in somehow. I was struggling with this problem, not being able to reach the real, er, I mean reel, when I noticed a woman was also on the street, looking up at the plant, which had now turned into nothing else but a basket of beautiful oranges, nothing rhyming with them. Some of the oranges were falling out of the basket and she was picking them up. It seemed to me that she was quite in danger of being hit by a car, and I went to her, telling her that I did not mean in calling for help about my plant to put anyone's life in danger. She sat down at an outdoor cafe, to rest, and I approached her. She was familiar to me, and I was attracted to her. I asked her how she was, and she seemed composed, but hinted at some complaint. Typically cotton-mouthed at such moments, I finally said "And how does all that feel to you right now?" Real Eugene Gendlin-like. And I even had the courage to touch her bare leg at the time, and felt a thin bristle there. It makes me hark back to how I had touched a woman's leg the same way at a party, but she had pulled back from me. I thought she had done this because she was uncomfortable with my advances, but she told me later it was only because her legs were unshaved - so we missed our chance to make out with each other. But here in the dream she did not pull away. She began to open up about being emotionally exhausted by the constant moving in and out of the roommates she took in the house she rented, and having to interview prospective new roommates. One of them, she complained, was only a high school graduate. Now, I am a snob about education, but would not have expected this from her. Then she began to explain the process she used when interviewing roommates, and as is typical in such dream situations, we both found ourselves on the scene. For each prospective roommate, she had a trained squirrel. And for each in turn, she would communicate to the squirrel how she felt about him or her. The squirrel would then act out her impressions of each of the candidates. When she got to one woman in particular, she hesitated, saying, "ok, this is going to be hard, but I have to be honest." Then she gave the squirrel her instructions, and the squirrel began cavetching. There is really no other word for it. The squirrel was lifting its arms to heaven, complaining, and then it would bitterly chatter, its head bent towards the street. As it got worked up, it became more angry, and it was quite a sight to see this squirrel cursing in its chatter language and making obscene gestures towards nobody. Why, I thought, this is real a marvellous woman! I looked around and saw that there were other animals around, too. In particular there was a marvellous exotic blue-feathered bird with a beautiful crest, sitting next to some four-legged from another part of the world entirely. "Look at that!" I said. She turned round, quite unastonished, and said "Oh, them. My friends." Yet her easy familiarity with all these animals only astonished me the more. Suddenly there was some kind of disturbance. Her animals and birds, which by every moment were becoming more numerous and diverse, and now took up the whole street, were suddenly in commotion. Something was coming, that was for sure! The woman stood up and was instantly alert. Out of her mouth came an inhuman cry, sort of a shriek and growl at the same time, and to her side came an enormous beast. To my eyes it was the picture of savagery, more of a monster than a true animal. It was like a cross between a wild boar and a bull, and it was obviously in kind of a rage. Not so much foam but a thick mucus was dripping slowly from its mouth, and its entire body huffed and puffed with vital power. What kind of pets was this woman keeping, anyway? And what manner of woman was this, who had such persuasion over them? None of my words would have such power. It was obvious to me that her voice must be connected with the deep currents that connect us all. This wild beast was so frightfully close to me. Yet I was not at all connected to its energy in the way this woman was. Yet we were all connected in that way. How could one reach deeper into those currents, and connect, only connect? We had come a long way from the cute trained squirrely psychodramtic roommate interview technique, and I had forgotten entirely about peace lilies and baskets of oranges, nothing rhyming with them. She was gesturing for all the animals in the street to clear out, and the note of immediate command in her gesture and voice was unmistakable. I divined that she was clearing a space for the animal to charge, so that it could expend all of its rage and energy in this way, harmlessly. But I was not to witness this spectacle, because suddenly we were not face to face but on the phone with each other, I so much wanted to tell her this dream I just had about here, but she was saying that she would have to say goodbye now, she was always so busy, and now on top of everything she had to find new roommates. And I woke, sad to leave her, said not to have found a moment to ask her out on a date, for monsters notwithstanding, I'm still quite the lothario. A flower of sweetness blossomed between my heart and my throat -- my love for her. And then it seemed to be a little nestled blue bird there And now, little one, I have winged you with words, so fly, fly!