Vivid Dream: Mousecapade

I had a whopper of a vivid dream last night.

I had written and was producing a TV pilot or filmed play. The cast was assembled and included professional actors and personal friends, notably from the ViewAskew board. Things were chaotic -- bits were filmed and we were in the process of doing a bedroom scene but needed some props.

One of those props was a live mouse. You have to understand something here -- I hate mice! I grew up in a housing project where mice were a daily fact of life: in the walls, under the beds, nibbling at the corners of boxes in the food pantry, running through the shower, etc. Both my brother and I came away from that experience afraid of rodents. Why I would write one into a script is clearly the stuff of dreams.

Anyway, several of us piled into a car to get a mouse for the scene. The star of the project, who seems to be an amalgam of actor Michael Rapaport and my friend Jim, was driving. I had a powerful emotional connection to the man. Accompanying us was my friend Tami from the VA Board and my dog, Jake.

We went to the mouse supply store and bought a small field mouse, fresh from the trap (!) but very much alive and packaged in a sanitary, white wrapper, like a prize from a cereal box. If you peered intently you could see the terrified little rodent inside, but otherwise it could be anything. Tami refused to hold the wrapped rodent and Michael/Jim was driving, so that left me. Jake was insanely curious about the packaging, thinking, perhaps that it was a wrapped Scooby snack and kept snapping the parcel out of my hand and into his mouth, without biting or chewing. I would pry the package out of his mouth, rescuing the dreaded critter from the literal jaws of death. Each time, I would hold the package up to the light to make sure the mouse was still alive, and each time it was.

My nerves were frayed. I had cast myself in a gay role in the production and was wondering if I should wear a pink polo shirt. I was in the upcoming bedroom scene and wondered how I would block everything out. Michael/Jim was driving (on an expressway) and kept talking to me in the backseat and taking his eyes off the road. I'd yell at him to pay attention to his driving and then tenderly place my hand on his shoulder to let him know I wasn't really angry. All the while, I'm fending off Jake who is intent on swallowing the packaged pint-sized rat.

I awoke both horny and with the heebie-jeebies.

According to dreammoods.com:
"To dream that you or someone is eating mice, indicates that there is something that has been nagging your conscience and you need to get off your chest."
Also:
"To see a mouse in your dream, indicates fear, meekness, and a lack of assertiveness. You possess feelings of inadequacy and not measuring up. Alternatively, it may symbolize minor irritations and annoyances."

I can't think of anything I need to get off my chest, but I have plenty of minor irritations and annoyances, especially at work. I'm gonna go with that one. Weird, huh?