Yes, bodies in the West End. I'M in the West End, dammit. This is the one time I'm glad I'm not a "Real and Recognized" Media person. I would rather read the gory details from you than be at the source for this one.

Meantime - I will wonder over your dreams. I'm picturing the colour-changing clothes and laughing because it reminds me of one of my meditation exercises (pulling on the colours of the Chakra from magically expanding little squares of lycra/spandex). One woman's nightmare is another's relaxation technique...? LOL!

That's funny! My nightmares are your relaxation techniques.

The exotic pet dream was like this:

I am driving my car. It is a dark winter night. The roads are covered in snow and ice.

I turn a corner and my headlights illuminate a horse climbing an icy hill in front of me. I get out of the car and walk toward the horse. She is a rusty brown colour with a white blaze on her face, black mane, black tail and white socks. She is young and spry. She comes to me and puts her muzzle in my hands. Her breath is warm and her lips are soft. She taps my hands and tosses her head toward the way down the hill. I follow on foot as she starts down the hill. I am afraid my car will hurt her so I leave it at the top of the hill.

As we make our way carefully down the steep slippery slope, I lean on the horse every once in a while and she stays close to me. The sun rises when we are about half way down and we meet three other horses at each quarter on the way. The first two are similar to my guide, the last is a palomino.

At the bottom of the hill the road disappears and another low hill rises ahead of us. A bit of the earth and grass on that hill is visible through the snow which becomes brighter as the sun climbs quickly higher.

A family of horses stands atop the small hill in front of us, pulling at the dry grass. They part and make way for us as we pass through the middle and over the hill.

On the other side I see the Station Mall in the middle of a field on a wild and undeveloped waterfront of the racing, churning and uncontained river. The mall has been converted to a library and has been deserted for a long time. The doors are unlocked the building untended.

Near the Sears door are two coyotes and three foxes. The foxes play with each other, unconcerned about me or the horse standing in front of them.

The silver coyote, the one I admire most, snarls at me as I bend and extend my hand to him. He snaps at me before he turns and runs away into the shadows behind the building.

The white coyote nuzzles and licks my hand in a friendly way and helps me to round up the foxes. The horse, coyote and I put the foxes in the foyer to keep them safe until their owners come to reclaim them. They are obviously tame, I realize. Their people will be missing them.

I turn to the horse and the white coyote, not knowing what to do about them and wondering if I should bother to go back to my car and continue driving no where in the dark or stay here and see what happens.

That's when I see the basket of clothes on the ground in front of me.

They are nice black clothes that follow all the rules. None reveal any skin or are too tight so that they reveal all my bumps and bulges (even in my dreams I am fat and hate my body). I start to try the clothes on over my clothes I am wearing and as I pull each item on, it becomes another colour.

As the pants I pull on become lavender, I panic and grab another pair to pull on over them. The next ones become mint green, then the shirt becomes pale pink and so on. I cannot find my way back to safe, comfortable black and feel very vulnerable.

I want to go back to my black clothes, find my way back to my car and go away in the dark but am too busy. Although I can't take time to look around, I know the horse and the coyote have left me and it is getting dark and cold as I keep pulling on black clothes that turn colours. It's funny that I never have more than one layer of clothes on, though. It seems like every item I put on becomes what I am wearing and it keeps becoming colourful. The colours are all crying out for attention and I am not.

The only solace I have is that no one is left to see my humiliation.