Sympathetic Roast

I dreamed last night–the image has been with me all day–that I baked a live pig. Actually a Piglet because it fit nicely in my little 2 gallon dutch oven. It was contained similarly to a lobster (with pretty colored gum bands) when I purchased it from the store.

The piglet baked for hours, plain, smelling fabulous, but emerged from the oven still alive. It wasn’t squealing (I read someplace that you don’t hear in dreams. I don’t think that’s true because I heard all kinds of horrifying things in one of my pre-Pearl’s-birth nightmares), but it was wincing as we cut into it, its flesh did not bleed but did not juice; and there was a pulse. The most distressing things were the Piglet’s eyes: expressive and alert and begging, “No! Don’t cut me! Don’t eat me!”

Is this some kind of plea from my psyche to become a vegetarian?

Since the recurring nightmare of my childhood that ended in my being chased through a giant labryinthine rubber mask shop by a rotten man, there hasn’t been such a vivid and plaguing image from my dreams.

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Author: April Line Writing

Writing about whatever the f*ck I want.

1 thought on “Sympathetic Roast”

  1. yikes. i’m convinced. i just had a weird dream myself. totally serious here:in my dream, a glacier was melting and it was a couple feet away from exposing a mosquito that had sucked blood off Jesus on the cross. the catch is that i knew that this blood held some sort of microbes or illness that the population wouldn’t survive. this was a very alarming and vivid dream, and i’m the least religious person you know. i’ve been calling it the Jesquito Dream

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