(Male, 30’s) The other night I dreamt about a doll, maybe 18 inches tall with the proportions of a baby. It was heavy for a toy and the surface of it’s skin felt like dirt, like soil with a high content of clay. The doll fell like it could have been made out of earth but it was solid like a like any other doll. It’s face was a cheery smile but it’s color, both of its fleshtone and its clothes were ashen grey. It was a doll that somehow represented death. Maybe it actually was death.
Its clothing was distinctive as well. Grey corduroy over-alls with a small satchel that it carried around its neck. The satchel represented a traditional item worn my people in my family (in the dream) an item that we received when we joined the family. The satchel is supposed to contain a few handfuls of seeds, some special variety of grain that the family had perfected over the centuries, I think it was a kind of rye that grows in particularly rocky terrain at particularly high altitudes. (I should mention that I don’t really come from such a family!) I think the idea here was that if you had that satchel, you’d never go hungry because you could always grow your crops again.
But the doll was dead. Somehow it had been allowed to die, as if dolls can die. I looked into the satchel and it only had lint and a few hardened clumps of something. There didn’t appear to be any seeds left.