Hooray. I did the homework and got it turned in, and even though I feel like I’m nursing a headache or something (truth be told, I haven’t felt quite right since the weekend, but I try to work through most yucky feelings…) I want to write a bit more, because the whole point of the blog is not simply to entertain the Cyber masses, but to practice the actual skill of writing, and grow accustomed to writing each and every day. While embedding little “I’m annoyed today” videos on my blog page may make for fun entertainment, it’s not giving me the actual practice of writing as a discipline. And frankly, working through tedious Microsoft Excel exercises isn’t, either, though it is a rather valuable skill. So here I go with a description of another fun dream.
I really do wish I had written it down, because it had some elements of dystopia that were a little intriguing, and I’m not sure I can recall much of it now, after a long day.
First of all, when I refer to “we” in this dream, I’m not even fully certain whom “we” defines. I was present, but not really myself, rather like one feels when one is reading a novel.
Something had happened to the world, something that made the air fill up with a rather chalky substance. While people would still go outside for limited times, most were living in homes that were at least partially underground, and limiting the outdoor time to avoid breathing was in the air. But people weren’t living in great, connecting burrows – nope. They were in individual homes for the most part, living rather independently of one another. The dream focused on two females, one of whom I viewed from a first person point of view. To simplify things, I will use first person pronouns when referring to her, though she was quite a bit younger than I.
So, “I” went up to the room closer to the surface, an open, garage sort of room, and looked out to where some relatives were working in the chalky air for a while, trying to repair something. My sister in the dream was a little lonely, and perhaps bored, had cabin-fever, etc., so I wound up scheduling a visiting fairy tale reenactment service to come and cheer her up.
The way the service worked was that the recipient was treated to a sort of makeover in which he or she was converted into a character from a story, then became part of a reenactment. Think Disney’s Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique combined with a sort of mystery theater interactive game. I chose Cinderella, because for some reason, I felt my rather shy sister would feel less threatened by that fairy tale than any of the others. Unfortunately, I awoke before the Prince and crew arrived to create the special event.
I don’t dream every night. Some of my dreams make more sense than others. Some of them are downright creepy, like the dream that seemed to come straight out of a Twilight Zone episode in which there was an airplane that somehow became suspended in mid-air, no longer moving.
I’ve long been fascinated by dreams, as anyone who read the one and only novel I’ve completed could probably guess. There are dreams and then there are dreams… Some escape your memory before you can even awaken, while others haunt you for days, weeks, months, even years.
I’ve read some of those “Dream Analysis” books that tell you what different elements in dreams are supposed to mean, but I’m not sure I completely buy into that idea. Sure, there may be archetypes that cross individual dreams and even cultures, but as not everyone has the same hopes, fears, and associations with any given object or animal, I don’t put too much store in some book telling me that to dream about a butterfly always means symbolic transformation. When we had a pantry moth problem, my daughter was afraid of moths for a while, and I think at that point, a butterfly in her dream would have been something kind of creepy to her, even if it was pretty.
Seeking a bit of interaction here – what are some of the more interesting things you’ve dreamed about? Do you dream every night? Do you recall the dreams? Do you have any recurring dreams?
People often use the word “dream” interchangeably with hope, aspirations, and wishes. But how often do the bizarre things that pop into your head while you are asleep reflect what you really seek in the waking world? I think more often than not, we are just dreaming about weird stuff like accidentally showing up to work/school/church stark naked.
In addition to some really fun dreams, in which I’ve explored alternate worlds that exist behind waterfalls, or in rooms accessible only from attics, I’ve had my share of disturbing dreams and nightmares.
When I was about sixteen, I had a major ear infection, and a physician prescribed a decongestant called “Singlets” which I now know were a combination of Pseudoephedrine hydrochloride, Chlorpheniramine maleate, and Acetaminophen. The week I was on those pills, I had some of the most vivid and disturbing death dreams I’ve ever had in my life. Every night someone else died in my dream, starting with an acquaintance who was murdered, his body stuffed into a metal trashcan under the bleachers in our high school football stadium. To this day, the murder victim is alive, thank heavens.
Another night killed off my poor mother. I don’t recall how she died in the dream. She is also still alive and relatively well.
The last night I had the dreams (and I think I stopped taking them the day before) I dreamed that my paternal grandmother died. That was no surprise – she had leukemia at the time, and we knew she wouldn’t be around too much longer. But the dream didn’t stop there…
Some of the neighbors in the dream were making snide remarks about how we were all just after her stuff. Trust me, while she collected many artifacts from around the world, most of them were not things that we could really fit into our daily lives, and were therefore donated to museums.
At some point in the dream, I became depressed. Not really like me… There have been times I don’t feel like fighting, but that’s more of a mild depression brought on by crap in life getting to me, and usually I can have a good cry, take a nice hot bath, and wake up feeling better the next morning. Sometimes I have to do things to distract myself from my troubles. But the depression in the dream was far more intense.
The dream itself was vivid. The patterns on things like the bed spread on my bed were all very realistic. I shared a room with my little sister at that time, and we had twin sized beds. In my dream, I lay sideways across the twin sized bed, my legs dangling from the bed so that my feet touched the floor. In that dream, I wished I were dead.
There are times in my life when I’ve felt as though words or feelings have gone out of my being with an energy that I can’t explain, something almost tangible, and that feeling or those words, that energy, have gone into the universe in much the same way that a real, physical object can move and contact another object. In this dream, the words “I wish I were dead” had that sort of feeling. And immediately, in that dream, everything went black and spinning. There was a void, and I was falling into it. And some little piece of me realized I did not want to go there, and managed to form the thought, “No! I don’t really want to die.”
At that moment, I woke up.
Did I truly wish to die in that dream? No, I don’t think I did, at least, it’s not what I would choose for myself under normal circumstances. Spoiler alert: in the end, we die. Everybody dies. But I sure as hell didn’t want to die at sixteen. I don’t particularly want to die now!
So nope, “dreams” should not be used to describe one’s hopes or aspirations. More often than not, the stuff that works its way through our brains while we sleep has nothing to do with what we want.
And yet, the really fun dreams make us wish we could curl back up in bed and dream the day away.