Scary Dream

Last night, in my area of Pennsylvania, was trick-or-treating. Yeah, I know Halloween is today. Over sixteen years I've been living here, and I've never been able to find out why they do that.

Last night was also an episode of Supernatural set during Halloween. (I'll have my post up on that later--I wrote it on my Neo and it's upstairs and I'm lazy.) There were some scary things in the episode. Razor blades "in" candy, evoking warnings during fourth grade assemblies and every Halloween thereafter; boiling apple-bobbing water; zombies and ghosts and the demon-of-all-demons and smiting of entire towns.

But the dream I had last night was exponentially scarier than all of that.

I dreamed my daughter was involved with men.

She's 13. In the dream, she was wearing the clothes she wore to school yesterday and with her Halloween costume. We came home from somewhere, and there were two older guys waiting outside. They at first seemed totally adult, but I think their interest in Number One was TOO scary so my brain downgraded them to teenagers-but-at-least-16-because-they-drove. One of the guys kind of disappeared, like he left. The other one kind of pushed his way into the house before I could clear my confusion and address him. It wasn't aggressive, more like he belonged there. Number One knew him, even though I'd never seen him. It eventually came out that he was a driver for Studio 91. He got frustrated because he'd worked so long and hard to develop this gig he had with them, and I was trying to mess it all up. I explained that my kids didn't dance for Studio 91 anymore, but in the dream, Number Two had started the year there and quit, so that was how she wound up on his roster.

In the meantime, Number Two is in the living room listening to this OTHER adult guy play guitar for her. It was odd because it was like he was wooing her, though he wasn't doing anything overt, and Number Two's dance teacher was in the room with her. I think she was DeAnn Grady, though, a friend of mine from my writing chapter.

So this guy is flirting with Number One, being very familiar with her, making her laugh and stuff, but getting WAY too close. Finally, when he put his hand on her waist, I put mine on his shoulder and got in between them and said, "She's 13. Back off."

He did, and soon was gone, somehow, and I was trying to talk to Number One about him, and she was getting really shrill and upset about him and the other guy, and I kept trying to calm her down because there were strangers in the other room and I didn't want them to hear what my 13-year-old had gotten herself into. At the beginning, I almost said something about at least making a better choice. Then I stopped myself, and my mental analysis was actually kind of funny:

"So what if he looks like a sloppy Philip Seymour Hoffman? He's ambitious, created his own job and income, and I'm proud of her for not choosing on looks and superficialities."

But then we had the argument and I said "Have you done something?" and she burst into hysterical tears and I woke up.

I have NO idea what prompted this. In fifth grade, I asked her if she had a crush on anyone, and she didn't want to tell me. I pointed out that I'm a romance writer and I DIG this stuff, and ever since, we've had very open conversations. She thinks the boys in her school are idiots and dorks, for the most part, and really isn't interested. I don't think I have to worry until next year, when she's at the high school, has access to older, cuter, more mature, more assertive guys who will have no problem noticing that she doesn't look like a traditional freshman. Even then, I don't really have fear that she'll suddenly change her entire personality and way of looking at life and do something worth bursting into hysterical tears over. Not in the immediate future, anyway.

But that's the analytical assessment of things. Apparently, my subconscious has a different view.

I hope this isn't the start of a trend.