steepholm (steepholm) wrote,

Steepholm's Dream Diary: 32

I am in a large apartment, filled with ancient war memorabilia, suits of armour and the like. Suddenly there is a clunk of subterranean gears, and from somewhere down below the lift starts to rise toward my floor. I am well aware that whoever is inside means me harm, and I start looking for items with which to protect myself. By the time the lift doors open, with an industrial clank, I have assembled an unlikely arsenal that includes a shield, a helm, a stuffed animal and a wok. It seems designed more for defence than attack, but for getting killed in short order more than either, especially when I see the knight armed cap-à-pie who has emerged from the lift. I retreat to an inner room, and await the inevitable onslaught.

Nothing happens. After a few minutes I emerge, nervously, to investigate. In the living room I find that the knight has taken off his armour, and is watching television, dressed in rather fine royal-blue pyjamas. He looks exactly like Tenniel's illustration of the White Knight. "Oh," he explains, when I demand why he hasn't come to kill me as per the dream script, "I decided at the eleventh hour that I'd rather not." In the face of this chivalric Bartlebyism there seems nothing more to do or say but, although I am relieved to be alive, I feel some shame on his behalf at the dereliction.
Tags: what does it all mean?
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