Dear Aunty Pam,

I keep having this reoccurring dream. In the dream, I am awakened by a sharp rapping on the door. When I answer the door a stranger asks, “What about Mrs. Rudolph?” I don’t recognize the gentleman nor do I know anyone named Mrs. Rudolph. Do you think I should alter my late-night snacking habits?

Tired in Tupelo

Dear Tired,

While Aunty Pam is not a dream analyst, nor has any sort of psychiatric training whatsoever, that’s never stopped me in the past, out of sheer enthusiasm, from diving into a specialized field just for a hoot and a holler (did I just write, “holler?”). But bear with me,  as this may be a two Prosecco conundrum.

There is actual science to back up your suggestion regarding late night eating habits contributing to strange dreams. I found, for example, that the time I subconsciously ingested a Vienna sausage and a handful of Fruity Pebbles (final exams during my stint at community college, truly the best six years of my life), I later dreamt Lee Atwater was hanging upside down in the chimney, chanting, “Chaka Khan, Chaka Khan.”

I’ve never really gotten over that.

However, your dream is far more perplexing and slightly menacing. First of all, you find yourself dreaming of sleeping, which, while comforting, is highly unoriginal. But then you are abruptly roused awake by a sharp rapping on the door.

That alone is enough to make anyone jump out of their skin. Then you are verbally accosted by a complete stranger, who immediately puts you on the defense by asking, “What about Mrs. Rudolph?”

The fact that the stranger doesn’t ask, “Does Mrs. Rudolph live here,” which could be a simple misunderstanding, but demands to know “What about Mrs. Rudolph” insinuates that the welfare of Mrs. Rudolph is your responsibility, and yet another symbol of aggression. Then a bit of research led me to discover that the surname, Rudolph, is of German origins (need we say more?), with the “Rud” part meaning “fame,” and “olph” or “olf” meaning — wait for it — WOLF!!

Excuse me while I refill my glass…

I mean, what could be more threatening? And combining that canine and fame together, this leads Aunty Pam to wonder if you happened to fall asleep while watching “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” — especially that “Getting angry, baby?” scene, because that’s when you swear Richard Burton’s about to duct tape Elizabeth Taylor’s mouth shut and bludgeon her with a bottle of J&B.

So while, yes, you might want to lay off the cheese curds after 8 p.m., I would also advise to perhaps take a closer look at your relationships at both work and home and see where any unresolved confrontations might need tidying up. Particularly with those having 3-inch incisors.

Of course, I also advised people to bail out of the Dow Jones when it hit 20,000, so really, you’re on your own.

Cheers, dear!