Sunday, September 4, 2011

Bee Having A Nightmare

This morning, I woke up with a start from a nightmare that was already happily resolved.  Those are one kind of wake ups that irritate me:  You've already endured the night terror,
you've already come to a satisfactorily, 'nobody's dead' ending...
and -then-

You realize you've been having a nightmare, gasp and sit up wide awake in bed.
So in this particular dream, I'm in the kitchen washing dishes and the door beside me is open to let some of the breeze flow through the screen door and into the house.  I can hear my little boys playing and laughing outside.  When I glance through the screen door, I see that they're playing in an enormous field,
but I know, in my dream, that they are actually in my backyard, and it is filled with a riot of wildflowers.
Suddenly, they come across a little birch tree
and six honey bees come out of no where and begin to attack them.

I yell for them to hop in the van (this is part of what convinces me that this is real-- two years ago, my father in law had a white volkswagen van stored in our backyard, just behind the house.  Though the real van is in much better shape than the dream van.).
Each boy has been stung once and I don't want them to be stung a second time.

I dash into my laundry room, desperately looking for bug spray or yard fogger that's going to allow me to get my children in the house.  But suddenly, we don't have any.  All that we have, is
So I put on a dust mask and grab the starch.  As I dash outside, I discover that it is no longer 6 honey bees, but a massive swarm of Africanized bees that are now between my children and me.
One dive bombs me and I see it so clearly as it goes past.
I'm not worried about whether or not I'm going to be stung.  In fact, I have absolutely no recollection in my dream if I was or not.  I know, and knew in my dream, that of all the horrible allergies I suffer, bee stings are not amongst them.  Pollen, dust, dander, smoke-- any of these will render me miserable and useless, but bee stings don't much phase me.  And in my dream, myself being stung doesn't matter.  All that matters to me is getting to my children, getting them out of the van, and safely into the house.

That starch was spectacular.
I knew that bees can't fly if they're wet.  I figured they couldn't do much of anything covered in sticky starch.   When the fog of starch cleared, my yard was littered in thousands of dying bee corpses.
For the briefest second, I felt bad and hoped they'd had a chance to pollinate all the flowers in my yard.  But then I was stomping through them in my tennyshoes on the way to get my children out of that van and into the house.

As both of their arms wrapped around my neck and we passed back through the screen door and into the house...

I realized that we don't have a screen door that leads into our backyard.

And knew in that moment that I was having a nightmare.

...Because screen doors that don't actually exist are obviously a whole lot more terrifying than massive swarms of killer bees threatening my children and having no bug killer....

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