At an early point in the dream, I discovered a dead mouse somewhere in the flat. With the expectation that I'd get around to drawing a study of it in a day or so, I washed it with soap and water in the bathroom sink.
Later in the dream (after various things happened that I have forgotten), Ellen asked me where I'd put the mouse to dry -- she was obviously suspicious that I'd stowed it away in an inappropriate place. The very idea! I'd placed it on an unopened piece of junk mail, to soak up the water, and left it on the floor under the sink. I showed her where it was, hoping that that would count as an appropriate place. As we looked at the mouse, one of its wings (yes, its wings -- what of it?) began to flutter. "It's alive!" said Ellen. I picked up the envelope and turned the mouse onto its front. Both wings started to flap as the mouse tried to dry them off. Before I had time to think what to do, it had taken off and was flying around the room. It wasn't a mouse at all but a mouse-sized moth!
Usually, I am pretty terrified of moths, but this one didn't bother me in the slightest.
Notes for Freudian Interpretation
A week before I had the dream, I found a mouse at the bottom of the stairs in the close. It crossed my mind to draw it, as it was a Sunday afternoon and I didn't have anything pressing to do, but I opted not to, as I didn't think it would be a terribly hygenic activity. I took some photographs of it instead and posted them on Flickr. If I feel the need to draw a dead mouse at some point, I can use them for reference. That's probably good enough, I think. I carried it out of the close using a piece of discarded junk mail that was lying nearby.
The morning of the day I had the dream, I was mildly unhappy to discover that a moth had crawled into my bottle of shaving oil and died. I tried to drop its oil-sodden body into the bin under the bathroom sink, but missed and had to peel it off the floor.
I think that's all of the motifs taken accounted for, no? As is increasingly common, I've absolutely no idea what it might all signify. I must re-read The Interpretation of Dreams.
There's a new Unsung Joe entry, by the way. I am so productive.