This is the spider I met in the house last night--a nice big one, about the size of a quarter, the biggest I'd met in a while. She was waiting on the stairs.
I remember three dreams from last night. There were screaming peppermint dollhouses--red and white striped with porch awnings that looked like the tops of their mouths and sad, dark, curved at the top, windows for eyes. Their screams weren't audible, but they swayed from side to side, at their tops, like background characters in a Silly Symphonies cartoon.
In another dream, I was leading Argonauts in ancient Greece on a quest of some sort. We killed a giant with dark, messy hair, and cut its head off. One of our group was chosen to take the head back to Athens or wherever we'd come from so we tore off the side of a wooden shack and threw it off a bridge into the river, then tossed the guy and the head onto it. The current carried him a ways before he found a shovel to use as an oar.
And in my first dream of the night, I was in a little dive club in a bad part of town and David Bowie took the stage, revealing he partially owned the club. The next day, he and I searched for the club on foot on a reddish soil, desert land landscape with white buildings seemingly always at a distance. He didn't seem to remember being famous--he and I were hurrying in our search because we planned on getting to Tori Amos' wedding at Comic-Con later that day.
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