Dream: Chased by an Antique Chair

Last night I woke up slick with sweat and gasping for air!

A ridiculous dream was quickly slipping away.

In the dream an antique chair was chasing me through deep red water. Unlike the above photograph, the chair chasing me had a dimpled, green velvety cushion. Its seams were covered with gold rusted beads. Underwater, behind me, the straight, oak-leaf-etched wooden arms of the chair rippled like a cuttlefish. Bubbles rose up from its wicker seat back. Its curved, Queen Anne legs folded and straightened, folded and straightened. And its bear-claw feet slapped the water back, allowing the chair to haul itself after me in a gliding stream.

I tried to duck away, hide myself in the center of a dense coral reef. But after circling the coral several times, the chair spotted me. It thrust itself into the reef, shattering the coral, sending it slowly floating downward like falling snow to blanket the sandy sea floor. As I swam away from the pursuing chair in a panic, razor-sharp fingers of coral clutched at me, gouging my arms and legs.

That's when I woke up, slick with sweat and gasping for air.

Afterward, while I stood at the bathroom sink and stared at myself in the mirror, I felt foolish for having been frightened by such a silly dream.

Even more foolish was how I felt when I realized I had sat down on the toilet seat cover to carefully inspect my arms and legs for bruises and scratches.