Freud said the uncanny is the only feeling more powerfully experienced in art than in life. I disagree.
I never experienced such a creepy feeling watching a horror film or viewing a painting as I did standing in my tiny powder room, examining my swollen lip in between lightning flashes, and staring at the bruised reflection in the mirror that proved the impossible was real.
So, here I was, now wide awake, sitting in my den, trying to make sense of the realistic dream I just experienced. It was all so confusing. I actually shook my head trying to clear my thoughts.
And I was a little angry at myself. Why was I even considering what Freud had to say about the uncanny when nowadays he's so passé? And, for that matter, I wish a pox on all psychologists, especially Maeve, who played the role of Queen Mab in my dream―
and as soon as I said the words, I froze...
Something lingering in my subconscious now floated to the surface like a dead body whose gasses released it from its watery grave.
Okay, I know I'm being melodramatic, but there was something really odd and creepy going on, and I needed to get to the bottom of it...
No pun intended.
Truth was, I overlooked a key point. It was Maeve orchestrating my dream.
There was no reason for her to be in my dream in the first place. Well, okay, I did talk to her at lunch about Wren Tyler and how she was ghosting me―but that had nothing to do with Avery Miller, the lovely Siren from my freshman class who was flirting with me.
Or, maybe it did.
I've always looked to Maeve to explain life's mysteries to me. Why was that? Perhaps because of her expertise in psychology, but she was always more than just a mentor to me. In a way, she was my Muse.
It wasn't the first time Maeve Palmer has been my torchbearer. I see her as a type of spiritual guide who performs the same role for me as Beatrice did for Dante, accompanying him in his journey through the afterlife.
Still, there's something more profound going on here―deeper even than Maeve being my counsellor. In my vision, she was dressed in a dark cloak and I thought of her as playing the role of Queen Mab―the queen of the fairies whom Mercutio said was a dream weaver...
Wait, that wasn't correct―it wasn't Mercutio who said that , it was Avery when she was trying to seduce me.
Oh God! Everything is so mixed up inside my head. I need to revisit that scene from the play and maybe it will jog my memory.
Better still, I need to talk to Maeve and get her input on what has happened. If she's the gatekeeper of my subconscious, then she'll have to teach me how to navigate the shoals or I'll end up drowning with a mermaid.
