On the surface, I had a silly dream last night. I don’t recall most of my dreams, so when I do recall one, and vividly at that, it’s noteworthy.
This was a silly dream, at first. But it’s grown more insidious as the morning passes and the more time I have to ruminate on the dream.
It was a simple, no-actor dream, other than myself, of course, the dreamer.
I was trying to start a fire on a gas stove, but instead of the normal burners, I was trying to light a small lantern contraption that was affixed to the stove top. It was a glass, cylindrical shape, might have been decoratively tapered, can’t remember.
I kept turning the knob and you could hear the ticking of the racing electrical connection trying to spark the tinder’s flame. At first cold and unresponsive, the flame struggled with each renewed effort of the knob to assert fire, and many attempts, and ticks, later, the flame finally and lamely conjured in the lantern contraption on the stove top.
I tried a few more times and the flame grew larger, fiercer.
And in the background, I swear, in the audio background of my dream, fucking Billy Joel singing “You Can’t Start A Fire.”
Silly as shit, but I feel the dream was nefarious for reasons I can’t define.