the "origami bug" dream

I'm at my parents' house. There's someone my mother calls my "boyfriend" and who is obviously gay, his hair died black, gesticulating wildly: my mother is charmed, my father is sitting in another room, disapproving, sullen. I flee the scene and go upstairs. In one of the rooms, there is a blue beetle hovering over the table. It alights on the edge. I recognize him: it's the origami bug. Its "shell" is an intricately folded castle, ship, and it's blue. Such blue*! ... The origami bug never stays still for too long, but when it pauses, it is as if time slowed down. He has something to say, he will speak to me. Now it reclines on one side, propping its head on its insect elbow, its black limbs with knobby joints. It's wearing a blue hat. ... My mother comes in, with the "boyfriend" trailing behind, their presence undesired. She tries to capture the bug. I protest: she must not touch it, it must be free. The beetle slips between her fingers. Now it lies on its back like a little cat ready to be pet on its belly. Now it unfolds its "origami": tiny delicate petals folded one over the next. Only the black "paws" are showing. The bottom petals lie flat. One can see a nearly translucent underside of the bug, with its little veins, like a blue membrane.

* It is recognizably, the Yves Klein blue.