I dreamt that I was wandering around a house, some kind of vacation home. It was dark inside but light and sunny outside.
I’ve read somewhere that when one dreams about a house, the house represents the person. I don’t know if that’s true for everyone, at all times, but since reading that and internalizing it, it has become true for me, after the fact. So now, when I wake up and analyze a dream of mine, if there’s a house, the automatic assumption is that the house represents myself.
Sounds nice and logical and easy-to-understand, in a metaphorical way, right? Well hang on.
In this house, I’m looking for the bedroom. I’ve been traveling and I want to rest. I’m warm and wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
And then the bees find me.
Clumps of bees land on and around my joints; a group in the pit of each elbow, a mob in each armpit, some in my groin and some around each knee. They don’t attack at first, just land and stay there, while I walk around and wave my arms trying to dislodge them without angering them.
So, what do bees mean? In the context of the house-is-me metaphor?
Eventually the bees do, indeed, begin to bite me. Or sting me. One or the other. The pain is low-key but definitely there. In dream logic, I just walk around with the bees clumped around my various joints. I don’t swipe at them or brush them off because, well, they’d bite me. More. Or… something.
And I walk into the bedroom, finally. A small mattress, big enough for one person, and some blankets lies on the floor of an otherwise empty room. And on the bed are several kittens. Small, fluffy, orange kittens.
They see me and the bees, and the kittens yowl. They jump and cling to my arms and legs and crotch. And they begin to attack the bees.
In their excitement, they are not very accurate.
So now I have kittens biting me and the bees, and the bees are agitated and biting me, too.
That’s when I wake up.
I have no idea what it means.
Feel free to share your bizarre dreams in the comments…