Miss Margo Note: This is a nightmare I had fairly recently…the last time I saw the Mathematician, actually. Boy oh boy, did my analyst have fun with this one.
It’s deeply personal, but also pretty funny, in a grotesque sort of way, so I’m sharing it. Enjoy.
I dreamed that I was a prostitute living in Paris. I had a small French poodle with its fur styled in the elaborate classic poodle haircut. I used pink food coloring to dye parts of the poodle’s fur pink.
I had a pink dress the same color as my poodle’s fur. I would wear the pink dress when I took the poodle out for a walk. I saw other women wearing similar dresses and also walking died poodles—blue, green, purple. Poodles of all different colors. Their dresses matched the colors of their poodles.
My died poodle gave men an excuse to come up and talk to me. They would want to ask me why I died my poodle pink. Then I would tell them the nature of my labor, and decided whether or not to take them to my apartment.
One day I received a package in the mail. I opened the package and found the dried, shriveled corpse of my Parrot inside. She was shrunken; just skin and bones and her feathers. Around the bird’s neck was a tag with a telephone number on it.
I called the telephone number. Someone on the other end of the phone picked up, but they didn’t speak.
Suddenly, I heard someone knocking on my front door.
I went to go answer the door. I was suddenly full of fear.
It was my murderer, there to kill me. The one who sent me the package with my dead Parrot.
The killer looked like a man, but I think it was really a woman. It killed me with a knife.