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Wild Animals and Tattoos...

A very animal heavy dream. Only in fragments now, as I sit by the light of a rising sun. I fell asleep to the sound of my upstairs roommate pile driving a banshee at 3:30 in the morning.
When I fell back into my dream, Dan and I heard the offenders finish up. She was crying, he was laughing and there was another male voice in the mix. They all were stepping out for a cigarette in the driveway. Dan and I went upstairs to spy on them from the balcony, whilst plotting our revenge.
Suddenly, their conversation turned serious and though I didn't catch the full exclamation, I heard Daniel say that he'd just seen a pack of wolves powering through the neighborhood and apparently into our back yard. Dan and I ran downstairs to see if we could see them from the window, but if I saw anything at all, it was a shadow of my imagination.
Then we were walking through rather dense jungle/forest/urban wild reclaimation, heading on a path through Fremont to the canal. On the way, we discussed the possibility of running across the wolf pack. Instead, as we cleared the trees for the final descent to the water, we found our way was blocked by a huge ferocious dog and two hulking, angry black bears, all chained by the neck in the middle of the path. The chains allowed them a circumference of a good 20 feet, completely overtaking the path to the water. I was utterly terrified when Dan made a bold attempt and crossed into safety on the other side, barely avoiding a slow but massive clawed swipe. He was on the other side, egging me to follow and suddenly the ground had me sliding down towards them. I was surely within their range of access, but they lost interest just in time and the bears climbed the hill away from me and the dog caught on to something else for a moment. I slipped past and together Dan (who was simultaneously a woman - maybe my mother) and I slid down the final embankment (which was made of champagne colored satin) to the water.
Once there, the dream turned strange. I was simultaneously living/watching a movie in which I was a naive young woman who had been taken under the wing (literally) of a couple who were expert fliers. They were two distinct beings, though inseparable as they flew me through the sky towards Ballard. Along the way, the man explained that they were going to be training me to be a warrior. I didn't know what to think. I kept wondering where Dan was.
I don't remember a stretch here, but when I come back, I'm on a supposed road trip with Dan, although we haven't left Ballard yet. I feel as if I've been in the car forever. I'm exhausted and haggard. Dan leaves to go rendezvous with a friend while I stay in the car. I turn on some music and start to try and do my make-up. The music is atrocious and for some reason the speakers are on the outside of the vehicle. The make-up job is turning out hilarious and matches well to the silly outfit I'm apparently already wearing.
I see two men approaching, both are covered in tattoos. I swear I recognize them from somewhere. One of them is carrying a large, heavy black equipment crate. They pass the car, but stall. I overhear one of them commenting "She has a tattoo studio down here?" and I realize they're referring to me. I hail them over and the one carrying the load shows me a photo. Dan has made the connection and these guys are here to try and sell me an awesome pair of pants... if you can even call them that. They're like chaps but with less coverage.
I feel really inferior next to these guys. They're obviously professional artists and I feel like small fish next to them. I hop out of the car to find something and I'm fully exposed in all my silliness. I'm wearing skin-tight zebra stripe leggings, a fanny pack, and some enormous platform heels. I feel them taking notice, and feel self-conscious for a moment... but then I feel their acceptance, like, "She's a total wacko. I can't even make fun of her, she's so crazy." Then the one guy asks to see some of my work and we exchange tracing paper sketches. I'm blown away by how similar our art is. His is only slightly neater/tighter. Mine is good enough to give him pause and meanwhile I'm making mental notes of his style.
The exchange ends in a friendly way but I'm pulled awake by anxious morning kittens. I sense there was some interesting sexual innuendo in there somewhere, but that could also be a lingering ghost of the circumstances surrounding my entrance into the dream.

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