I was in the midst of the usual noir "can't-find-my-way" dream when all at once, without warning, the scene and the genre changed. Suddenly I was in technicolor John Ford territory, holding on for dear life to the cow-catcher of an 1880s railroad engine. Three central-casting bad guys -- all whiskers and black hats --were shooting at me with their pistols. Familiar with what's expected such films, I responded by drawing my own Colt 45-- and plugged two of them. But the third kept coming, zombie-style, even though I nailed him several times. I was scared.
Apparently I was rattling around, because just as I decided that I'd better shoot him between the eyes and be done with it, my faithful bedmate woke me up. End of dream; what a relief.
I must be watching too many Westerns.
It's fascinating that the material of this dream is not drawn from the events of my "real life," but rather from fiction (in this case, the movies). Have I incorporated such fictions into the deepest layers of my unconscious, from which dreams are supposedly drawn?
On the other hand, my watching and absorbing a film is a "real life" event.
I can't remember any film in which a character clings to the cow-catcher. Did I invent such an event? Or just extrapolate it from various western films?
I should mention that I experienced the dream not in ordinary colors but in the brilliant artificial color of old-fashioned garish Technicolor.
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