Last night I dreamed we moved to a new house. Everything was in disarray (as is normal for this sort of life changing event) and so our chicken coop, with chickens inside, sat on the front lawn.
Villainous children from the small town where we had moved began absconding with our feathered ladies. The reason I know all this is that in my dream, I shouted from the front porch, “Stop those villainous children from absconding with our chickens!” (It’s nice to know that my dream world not only includes chickens but language from Jane Austen novels. Or perhaps I’ve simply read the novel Edenbrooke too many times.)
I began chasing after these small wretched thieves with a broom and followed them to their own homes, which was apparently some sort of misdemeanor in this town, because I was arrested while they were merely scolded for stealing my hens. One of my ladies was lost forever and I remember sobbing in despair, with my hands behind my back in handcuffs.
When I woke up this morning, heart racing, I ran to the window to reassure myself that the ladies were fine.
Yesterday, I dreamed that we went on vacation to a family reunion, taking with us several suitcases and our six Golden Comet chickens.
Upon arriving at our destination, we went to put the hens in our host’s chicken coop where there were several different types of chickens already waiting. My ladies were shy upon meeting the others, and one brushed up against me and hugged my leg with her little wing.
I give that bashful little chicken a good pep talk about meeting new poultry and nudged her inside the coop. Everyone got along swimmingly and when we went home a few of the host’s hens came along with us, despite my fears we didn’t have enough room or towels for everyone.
Because, you know, dream chickens use up a lot of towels.
A few weeks ago I had a stressful dream that each of my chickens were in labor. So I hurried from perch to perch to catch the live chicks that fell out of the hens, sans any protective eggshells. The mothers had chick after chick after chick, so I ran all night with hands cupped to catch each small bundle of feathered joy.
Upon waking up I discovered I was exhausted.
Some people dream in black and white. Some people dream in color. I, apparently, dream in chicken.
And I don’t think I would want it any other way.