On being chased

A friend and I are dressed as peasants; we're on some kind of country-immersive vacation. She’s being followed by an old woman. I’ve taken custody of a boar, which I also think of as a burro, and I walk it like it’s a dog, at one point wondering aloud how to give it treats. My friend is scared of the old woman. We hold on to each other as we walk (we don’t run, for some reason), but my friend’s steps are so mincing, I have to drag her to go faster. The boar is fast-ish. Though I’m afraid he stands out, I'm captivated by his gait and gray hide; there is no question that I will keep him. My friend and I shed the peasant clothing to blend into the tourist crowd, and feel better. Then we sense the old woman has caught up to us. She knows this small city—where are we? not New York, not Philadelphia, but someplace that starts with N and includes the letter C—and can anticipate all of our moves. My friend and I walk up a hill. We circle its buildings along with the other tourists. We walk back down the hill. We’re on a busy street, the sidewalks crowded and narrow. The boar tries to pee on a vendor's shoe display, and I rebuke it; an old man tsks as he crosses our path. Then we're wandering through a mall, terrified. I've lost the boar. My friend and I are rushing to the elevator, which will lead us to the exit, but we're separated. I'm now on a floor below her. Sobbing, she indicates that I should get back onto the elevator to meet her on another floor. I am wearing a backpack that I'm meant to protect, and I step into the elevator calmly. As the doors shut, the dream ends, and I know the old woman is standing behind me.

  1. I watched It Follows two nights ago.
  2. My house is usually full, but I am alone with the dog for the next week. Tonight is our first night alone.
  3. I wake up associating the old woman with my new piano teacher. I used to avoid my old piano teacher.