The Lair had somehow been transformed into this rambling warren of buildings, except the electrical system was still its current free sample of an electrical system that was trying to run the whole thing. And the electricity kept going out, because all these people I vaguely knew kept leaving switches turned on. And so I was spending my time running around turning things off so the batteries could charge, when what I needed to be doing was working on some catastrophic problem with the water.
And then suddenly, after I turned off this big pointless box fan (and I don’t even own a box fan) for like the fifth time in the same dream, Claire’s voice announced that all the chickens were loose. And they were, scattered all to hell and gone, and I was rounding them up and getting them bunched into a drivable flock aimed at their gate only this was made harder by the fact that it was suddenly winter, and blizzarding. And then Click, who in this dream was a kitten made of fuzz and mischief like Zoe, barreled right through the middle of the scrum like a rocket-powered bowling ball and with similar results…And that was when I realized I must be dreaming because nothing ever gets this infuriating, and I woke up.
The scenario was annoyingly familiar, as if this was a recurring dream I used to have a lot in the city.
I’m sure Freud would have had a field day with this one (he’d probably say all the light switches are penises).