I was travelling east on I-80 around Grand Island, Nebraska. An old pickup merges onto the interstate in front of us, cutting us off. It seemed like the interstate was more like a country highway (like Highway 34 on the plains of Colorado around "Masters" or "Deerfield") because there was an old decrepit building/former gas station on the corner of where the pickup truck guy pulls in. I know there was more to the dream because I remember remembering it after I woke up, but I since forgot it after I went back to sleep.

Our back yard must have been fenced because our dogs were out in it unattended. Lucifer Sam kept peeing through the fence onto the neighbor's lawn where they had things growing underneath large square clay pots. Our neighbor Mary was getting mad at Lucifer Sam because he was doing this and she was telling him to stop. So I went out back to scold him and tell him to stop. IRL, Plato could pee that way, but since Lucifer Sam was potty trained early, he pees like a girl, squatting, not lifting. The people we got our first Pug, Hieronymus, from said this can be done with male Pugs if trained early enough, however Hieronymus, despite being a very good dog in the potty training department, still lifted. Then I was given (by whom?) a new dog, small, maybe a hound/terrier mix, brown and black with very soft, white fur. It was pretty young, and I decided to keep the dog for ourselves, even though we already had enough dogs. I was outside in our back yard holding it, and Stan comes up to me and I show him and Mary the dog. He asks what the dog's name is, and on the spot I say "Basketweave." (This is a name of one of my Dingbat Fonts) I then follow up with, "Or maybe Basketcase." Then I'm watching Plato who is by the garage near the terraced area, except in the dream it is flat. [GROSS PART]He starts to poop, but then he starts pooping out this foamy white liquid, and then he starts pooping this long rope of poop about a meter long. Then he starts losing his balance and rolling around in it. [/GROSS PART] I'm freaking out, thinking he is dying. The thing is, this dog didn't look like Plato, it looked more like our neighbor's dog Sunday, a blue heeler/Lab/whatever mix, except it had more white on it. Then the dog sits on a chair (seems like we're inside now). I come back to it later to see if it is alive, and it is, but it seems very sick. I am thinking that it was ironic I got a new dog, and then this old dog is about to die.

Labels: Animals, Dreams