The baby on the pogo stick at the top of the stairs? That’s your career, teetering, ready to leap into what looks like the thin air of disaster.
Oh, the one where you and he barricade yourselves in the bedroom, barring the door to keep out the maniac with his face, his name? Well, that’s tied to the dream where a mountain lion prowls the divorce lawyer’s office, hungry and sleek.
These other dreams, over here? The goldfish bowl floating on the ocean, or the one where you shelter from green rain beneath the theater marquee? They could mean anything at all.
Last, the dream where you’re scrambling for the right pen in a drawer full, hurrying to write the poem before the door opens and it slips away?
Well, we all know what that one means.
