Reading material for those who have a somewhat warped sense of humor. Writings related to sleep, dreams, depression, infertility, family, drinking wine, creating art, and life in general. A hodgepodge, yes.
My parents, sisters and husband are running through the city. There are “bad guys” dressed in military style garb scattered all about – on street corners, in buildings, driving tanks. It is noisy and chaotic, people are yelling and screaming. We get captured and are taken to sit around an outdoor fire pit. There is an enclosure around the benches we are sitting on and the fire keeps swelling, getting larger and larger. We have been instructed to sit there and not move, but if we don’t move, we will all burn. (Apparently this is what the bad guys want – for us to burn). My gut instinct tells me to RUN! ESCAPE!
Somehow I know that if we stay put, we will not all burn at the same time, one of us would go first, then the next, etc… and the idea of being the only one burning while the rest watched or being the last one to burn and watching the rest burn before me are equally revolting. If I went first, would I try to suppress a scream, to make it less torturous to the rest of my family? Would that even be possible? How could one just sit there, watching your own skin bubble up and blacken? I think we should run. My mom thinks we need to just stay and burn, because what awaits us if we escape, and are caught, is much worse than being scorched alive.
FIRE: Dream Forth tells me that to dream of being burned by fire suggests that I need to reign in my emotions. They tell me, and I quote, “Your temper is volatile”. HA! This is the most dead-on dream interpretation I’ve found yet. Um, hello? I’m Irish AND Italian. Which basically means my innards are comprised primarily of volatile emotions. Volatile emotions sprinkled with a boatload of garlic and a healthy dollop of whiskey, and that’s about it.
Dream Moods counters with the argument that dreaming that I, or someone else, is being burned alive suggests that I am being consumed by my own ambition. I’m not even sure if being consumed by one’s own ambitions is a good or a bad thing. On one hand, I have days where I am ambitiously (and sometimes manically) working on one of my several projects that I have going on, while at other times my greatest ambition is sitting my ass on the couch with my feet up, consuming entire half-gallons of Chocolate Moose Tracks entirely independently. Per usual, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of gal. No real gray area with me.
ALTERNATIVE ANALYSIS: Preggo me has turned into a raging inferno that is emitting absurd amounts of body heat – so much, in fact, that my own body-generated temperature may cause me to have a dream about being burnt to death.
1) My husband is a human furnace. I occasionally call him “Furnaki” an English-Greek hybrid of a word that I made up in college, which means “cute little furnace”. Since his internal thermostat is so high, and his manly-Greek-pelt is so thick, he cranks up the air conditioning to blast-o-matic levels in order to cool himself down to a temperature that will not allow his brain to cook.
2) The old me used to sleep in long pants, tank top and hooded sweatshirt, snuggled underneath two blankets or comforters. Yes, even in the summer (see air-conditioning above). I’ve always been a “cold hands, warm heart” kind of person. But now? Now, I sleep with my shirt pulled up to my boobs, a cold-pack resting on my side, with no blankets touching me whatsoever. Since I am usually awake between the hours of 2.30a.m. – 4.30a.m. anyway, I swap out the warmed cold pack with a fresh one. The cold hands are a thing of the past, and some would say maybe I didn’t really have a warm heart to begin with…so there probably hasn’t been much of a shift there.
Someone neatly slices a wedge out of a beautifully presented, shallow, plain cheesecake. The Pac-Man shaped, almost whole, cheesecake (Big Cheesecake), and the smaller, pie shaped wedge (Little Cheesecake) are placed, together, in a large bowl of water, where they float on the surface. Once in the water, it becomes evident that both pieces of cheesecake are alive, and have personalities. Big Cheesecake moves itself, ever so slowly, closer to Little Cheesecake and bumps into the it. This causes Little Cheesecake to get dunked underneath the water, and the edges of itself start to dissolve. As every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction, Big Cheesecake ricochets off of Little Cheesecake and ends up on the opposite side of the bowl. At a snail’s pace, Big Cheesecake again inches closer to Little Cheesecake, dunking him for the second time, and Little Cheesecake shrinks even further. The cycle repeats, and as Little Cheesecake cannot defend himself, he just gets smaller and smaller, and smaller. The water begins to turn milky.
I really don’t know what to say about this one, other than it has been haunting me for a couple of weeks. Let me know if you’ve got an analysis for me.
The Greek Dance group is practicing at my house. Apparently they decided to use my house since I have enough space, and I have many rooms in the shape of circles. This is convenient, since most Greek dances are circular in nature. It is a particularly important dance practice because the group has been invited to travel and dance ON THE MOON. Exciting. There is one girl in the dance group that everyone hates and who is constantly doing things contrary to the Greek Dance Group Code of Conduct. She has already been kicked out of the group once. She is late and so the dance group is discussing whether they should kick her out again. In order to travel into space, to dance on the moon, there is a lot of teamwork and trust involved, and they are worried that she poses a safety threat. People in the group are afraid of confrontation and don’t know if they will follow through on kicking her out, even though they know they should. They ultimately decide they will indeed kick her out, but say they need one more person for the Kalamatiano (something about needing enough bodies and gravitational pull, since you don’t really need a certain number for this dance on Earth). I offer to fill in, but I am worried that I am a little bit sick. The girl everyone hates comes very late, after it has been decided that I will dance. She says no one is stopping her from going to the moon. The dance group calls a scientist/doctor who is an expert in traveling through space. He confirms the idea that a team-based approach is needed and this girl won’t work. He is concerned about our safety. She continues to practice with us anyway. He then turns to me and asks if I am experiencing a lot of tension, because he notices my foot and leg are constantly moving. I tell him they are always moving, this is nothing new. We then start talking about my illness and he looks in my throat, asks me some questions. He says he is worried I might have mono. I gasp, and tell him I’ve had mono in the past. He nods solemnly, as to confirm this diagnosis, since mono can reemerge after lying dormant.
Ok, this is a dream with some attachment to reality! My husband and his family have participated in traditional Greek dancing since they were young, and his cousins and sisters still perform. I do know how to dance the kalamatiano. I constantly move my leg/bounce my knee. I have had mono (and it can come back). And, there must be a kernel of truth to the idea that dancing on the moon’s cratered surface without the correct configuration/velocity/whatnot would result in people flinging off into the abyss. I don’t know if I have ever had another dream with so many ties to my waking life.
SPACE: Dream Forth tells me that to see or dream that I am in space indicates that I am a very inquisitive person who enjoys seeking the truth and that I form my own opinions and beliefs rather than adopting those of others. I would like to believe this is true, even if the only evidence I have is my disagreement with my husband about how often the bathroom needs to be cleaned (Truth: Not as often as he thinks) or my own opinion about how often the lawn and bushes need to be manicured (Truth: Never. Lawns and shrubbery are not important). I refuse to blindly adopt the believe of my husband snooty neighbors in this matter! I’m such a obstinate wife truth-seeker.
DANCING: Dream Moods informs me that dreaming about attending or going to a dance indicates a celebration and your attempts to achieve happiness. Hooray! Celebrations are good (unless they are fake celebrations, like the kind we have at the beginning of staff meetings). Let’s celebrate scrapbooking! And samosas! And bacon! And fuzzy kitties that snuggle! And coffee – oh glorious coffee! And yoga! And Girls Weekends! And wine! Oh yes, lots and lots of cheers for wine! All things I indulge in for the sake of sanity. And all synonyms for happiness.
MONONUCLEOSIS: Dream Forth says that to dream of an illness signifies despair, objectionable adjustment, and an emotional collapse. The illness may be a way out of my incompetence in coping with a situation. In this case does that mean my incompetence in coping with the weak gravitational pull of the moon whilst kicking up my heels? In reality does it mean constantly being crouched in the shadow of the black dog? Wait, wait, wait. Celebrate happiness, remember?! That merriment seemed incredibly short lived. Hm. Maybe my attempts are futile. Ah, to hell with it. Let’s still celebrate a crack at happiness with some wine, shall we? Or, should we just drown our sorrows in it? Either way, cheers.
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We are traveling and part of our caravan involves several blimps. From where we are we can see out in front of us through a large domed window. There is an accident – people are screaming and scared. There is a little boy about 8 years old by himself, crying. We can tell things are going from bad to worse. The blimp in front of us explodes, fire and gases are hurl towards us, break the domed glass and sweep over us. I grab the boy and cover him with myself, hoping we don’t get burned too badly.
BLIMPS: Dream Moods informs me that riding in a blimp could indicate an inflated view of myself. Alternatively, it could be a metaphor for my weight and issues about my physical appearance. Hm. Analysis Option A) I have an over-inflated view of how much I am able to help my students. Really, we can’t make that much of an impact, right? Some days I think so, other days, not so much.
Example: I teach my 4th hour some yoga breathing exercises to de-stress. One says he feels better, one writes a poem about breathing and de-stressing and one “macho” kid practices his breathing at home.
I made an impact!
Me: You have 2 more class periods to finish this test.
X: No I don’t.
Me: You do.
X: Why are you doing this to me? You are so mean. You’re dumb.
Puts test in random file cabinet
Me: I’m not mean or dumb. You know that.
X: Your cat is ugly
Me: Are you just saying that to be mean?
X: Yes. I don’t like you.
Me: That’s ok. But that should also probably be an inside thought.
X: PBBBBTTTT! I can’t work 1st hour!
Me: You have worked in here before in 1st hour?
X: Well, I didn’t l…mumble mumble
X: Opens my desk drawer, and pulls out 10 little laminated pictures of Norm from Cheers (long story). X uses white out tape to cover Norm’s eyes (all 20 of them) and says “Look! You can’t tell who he is now! You can scrape that off, by the way”.
Me: So, if you’re putting tape on those, you need to scrape it all off.
X: I will. YOU can do it too, you know.
Me: I know. But I don’t want to. That’s why I didn’t put it on them.
X: Scrapes all the white out tape off using a wooden popsicle stick, since it “didn’t feel right” on his fingers to scrape it off with his/her nail.
Me: It’s 9.08
X: You’re a 9:08!
X: Dings bell with wooden popsicle stick.
Clearly, I make no impact.
Analysis Option B) I’m going to my cousin’s wedding this weekend, where all of my family will be glammed up. I’m not much for glamor, and anticipate looking somewhat like an awkward, hairy ungulate, clad in a black dress. In a last ditch effort to not be both chubby AND utterly drab, I have purchased some new, sequined sling backs, and shiny baubles for my neck and ears. Somehow we must convince my husband that these purchases were absolutely necessary.
BURNING:Dream moods suggest that burning means I need to take time off for myself, and relax, and maybe I am feeling ”burned out”. It adds that dreaming about being burned alive suggests that I am consumed by my own ambition. Ok, WHO doesn’t feel burned out?! No, really. I believe stress-free people are on par with unicorns and yetis and krakens. Stop faking it, those of you who are pretending to be mythical beasts, you’re making the rest of us look bad.
LITTLE BOY: Dream Forth tells me that to dream that I see a boy, as a female dreamer, implies that I am in touch with the male traits of my personality. Clearly. This is why I am so good at growing a moustache and so bad at getting “glammed up” for family weddings.
I enjoy hearing other people’s dreams. When someone tells me they had a strange dream, I pester them until they describe it. Some of my friends know this, and they email me their dreams, whenever they remember them. This is quite considerate, since it saves me the energy from pestering. Very often, their dreams have something to do with the activities or T.V. shows they indulge in, something related to their job, or something they are afraid of. I hear a lot of dreams involving teeth falling out, being chased, falling, and being naked in public, which are all among the top 10 most common dreams people have. In movies, people who suffer traumatic events have recurring deams about that one catastrophe. While I sometimes have a few dreams that fall into those categories (see teeth), more often than not, the dreams I remember do not seem to be connected, in any way, to what I’ve done, or what I’m currently interested in. Instead, I have dreams about robot conspiracies. This seems odd to me. Why am I not dreaming about American Idol, or Vince Vaughn, or dark tornadoes smashing my house to smithereens? If nothing else, you’d think I’d dream about something scary that happened when I was little. Something I think about a lot, but have never dreamt about, is an incident that people in my family refer to as “The Accident”.
In 1983, my parents and I were in the car, driving home from Bath Middle School, where my mom was doing her student teaching internship. My dad was driving our light blue Plymouth Volare, that they had purchased from my grandparents, and owned for 2 months. My mom was in the passenger seat, and I was in the back seat, sitting behind my dad. I remember being promised some McDonald’s fries from the drive-through. This was a pretty big treat, since my parents were somewhat strict about what I ate (They only let me eat sugar cereal once per year, near Halloween. How excited I used to get about Count Chocula! Note: They gave this strict nutrition policy up by the time my sisters were born). It was dark out, as we were leaving a night-time event (School carnival? Curriculum night?). As we were driving, I heard my mom draw a sharp intake of breath and then say my dad’s name “….CHUCK!” From the way she sounded, I knew something was wrong. But, I had no idea what it could be. I was sitting in the back seat, so couldn’t see what was going on up front. My 3 year old brain imagined someone throwing a brick at the windshield. A few moments later, a huge crash occurred, and our car stopped moving. I didn’t realize it then, but we had been hit by a drunk driver, who swerved into our lane and hit us head on. I also didn’t know that my mom wasn’t wearing her seat belt, but I did know that she wasn’t okay. I couldn’t see her anymore, but I could hear her. She was moaning. “Ohhhhhhhh…………oohhhhhhhh”, a horrible sounding noise, over and over. Her head had smashed into the dashboard upon impact. I could still see the back of my dad’s head, and from that vantage point he looked okay (I couldn’t see the abrasions across his chest from the shoulder strap seat belt. With his shirt off, you could see right where the seat belt was, even though he was wearing a thick suede coat when the accident occurred).
He asked me, “Christine, do you have your seat belt on?”. I answered yes. I was the only one in that car who was perfectly fine. Then he asked me again, “Christine, do you have your seat belt on?” I answered yes, again. He kept asking…and asking…over and over. I guess that’s one of the side effects of being in shock. Scary, but a whole lot better than moaning. I’m not sure how many times he asked, and I answered, until I yelled at him, “DAD! I HAVE MY SEAT BELT ON!” I don’t remember if he ever stopped asking or not.
After the car had been sitting still for awhile, suddenly the back passenger side window shattered. 3 year old me thought it spontaneously fractured, but adult me knows that the emergency crew used a tool to break the window, since they couldn’t open my door. A man reached in and grabbed me, pulling me gently through the window. The crew had already used the jaws of life to pry my mom from the vehicle. I find it amazing that I don’t remember seeing them do this, since it must have taken some time. I do remember seeing a guy in a blue coat, once we got out. When I was little I imagined it was the drunk driver, but it is more likely that the man I saw was an emergency responder. We went to the hospital, but I don’t remember too much about what happened there. I only had a tiny bruise on my hip bone, and it didn’t hurt at all.
Emergency response team getting my mom out of the car.
My dad did a pretty good job of sheltering me from what was happening, or maybe I was just too young to understand what was going on. My mom was in a coma, with a contused brain that caused one side of her body to be paralyzed for many days. My dad met with the neurologist the day after the accident, who said the paralysis and coma could exist for a few days, a few weeks or a few months, but he expected it to go away. Luckily, the coma only lasted for a few days. Once she came out of the coma, her short term memory was gone for almost 2 weeks. My dad remembers visiting with her in the hospital room, then walking out for a few minutes, and upon returning, her acting like she was seeing him for the first time that day. She remembered what happened up to the day of the accident, but nothing after that, including what was going on around her every day while in the hospital. My grandma told me she accidentally spilled hot coffee on my mom’s leg and, I imagine, may have been a teensy bit glad that my mom didn’t remember that.
She received 58 stitches across the right side of her head, through her eyebrow; they had to do two rows of 29 stitches, one beneath the surface of the skin, and the other to close up the wound at the surface. She also had a torn bladder, and a fractured pelvis. I remember seeing the major bruising and swelling of her right arm. If you know her, you might notice that her right arm looks like she once had stitches there, but she didn’t, the marks are just an indication of how much damage the muscle obtained. My dad describes her arm as looking like a black man’s thigh. The driver who hit us, who was driving on a suspended license, got 20 days in jail, plus probation.
Mom was in the hospital for about 2 weeks. She should have stayed longer, but she wanted to get out. They had her in a ward with other people who had “head problems” and it was driving her crazy.
Scientists tell us that we don’t remember a majority of our dreams, even when we have them, so perhaps I just remember the bizzaro ones, and can’t recall the ones about the T.V. shows I watch, or The Accident. As much as I don’t like my bizarre dreams, I guess I’m pretty lucky, not to have dreams about this day.
I am at Meijer because I need to ship a package. My friend Krista is there and she is telling me about which boxes/envelopes are the best price and how she learned the hard way when she got the wrong one and her package got shipped to the U.P (7 dollars), then Alaska (20 dollars), then to Texas (5 dollars) then got returned (and she had to pay all of the above, added together). Within Meijer, I have to go and get blood drawn. For some reason, it hurts. The nurse is sort of nice but also a bit gruff. When I get up to leave I accidently drop a wrapper from one of my oatmeal bars on the chair. She notices and tells me that I should pick healthier snacks for while I am on the go.
The place turns into a science lab and I am working with the science department at the school I work at. We are eating lunch, and they tell me to be careful since there are so many chemicals around. The lab then turns into a bar and grill AND a lab combined. It is very dusty/dirty and cluttered. There are empty bottles and containers around. In areas where there should be whole sets of things, many items are missing. A science teacher asks if I can help him serve some drinks. I say sure, even though it has been awhile since I have bartended. There are hardly any bottles of booze at the bar – it seems like a dirty ghost-town bar where people don’t actually drink. The bottles are mostly empty, and are covered in dust and cobwebs…but here we are, having to serve. A waitress comes in and orders a Manhattan, and Old Fashioned and a few other drinks. I am trying to remember how to make them – especially considering the very limited selection of booze. One of the ingredients in one of the drinks was “Garnier” (the hair product brand?). A waitress takes the drinks out through an automatic sliding door area into a pool area. It is a good thing the customers cannot see where their drinks are coming from. The waitress has a tattooed quote across the middle of her thighs. The words span across both legs, and a diagonal train track is tattooed is under quote. During a break she is writing, in sharpie, additional words underneath the current words already tattooed. Some of the words she writes in pen are “This passage allows me to understand passion” and “This passage allows me to understand geology” etc…
Five younger men come in. They are very obnoxious and sort of like guys from the TV show Jackass. They set up skateboarding ramps and obstacles and huge piles of trash in the streets, making it difficult for cars to get through. I have to take my car to go get ice (since these guys are having a large party at our bar that night) and I end up having to crash through the huge piles of trash to get where I need to. I go to pick up the ice for the evening shift, with a coworker and we spend an inordinate amount of time doing this. When we return with the massive amount of ice, we realize we do not have a cooler or refrigerator large enough to hold it all. There is no way around the fact that the ice for our drinks will end up melting. I am not too sad because these guys are crazy enough sober, let alone drunk.
Back at the lab, we realize that one of the obnoxious guys is missing. The other four guys claim to not know what happened to him. The mystery gets solved and we realize that the missing person has had his head chopped off. In my dream, there is a weird visual of a guy, head getting chopped off, big pool of blood. Then the blood fades and you can see an indented/stained part of the wood floor of the bar/lab and that is how you know what happened. In the middle of the stain/indent is a drain. It looks like a camera sort of goes down the drain so you can see down there and there is more evidence that the guy was murdered here. There are little cartoon versions of cells and particles (blood cells, mucus particles etc…) from the dead guy. They are living in the drain – complete with cartoon lamps and couches and pictures on the walls, etc… and they have little eyes and mouths. They are telling me “Get out of here!” and the cartoon mucus/blood cells tell me, “My wife will be SO MAD if you are in here!” His particles are angry pieces of dead guy.
PACKAGES: Way of Tao explains that a box symbolizes what I store and protect, and so a wrapped package indicates there is something unexplored or unexpressed. Does this mean I need to tell my husband to explore my box? Snicker … see how I make a juvenile joke instead of exploring … my own box? Double snicker. Apparently this is how I roll. Who cares what is in those wrapped packages? Sidebar: I hate going to the post office and mailing packages. I once sent my god-daughter her birthday present about 5 months late and another time sent my friend’s birthday present almost an entire year late. I just avoid going for some reason. The only time I went to the post office in a timely manner was when I mailed a student a whole coconut. Did you know you can do this? The mail lady will likely give you a dirty look when you get to the counter and explain your intentions. Don’t let that deter you. Just an FYI that you have to shave off the hair first so you can write the address on it, and you also need to have a return address on there. Could an alternate explanation be that I just wish the post office was located at Meijer?
BAR: Dream Forth tells me that to dream about being in a bar represents your wish for deliverance from day-to-day anxiety and a need to move toward enjoyable activities. It also indicates that you are seeking approval for something. Yes. I would like to win the Mega Millions and just do fun things, everyday. Like mail my friends coconuts. Who wouldn’t want to do this?
BOTTLES: Dream Forth tells me that seeing a bottle indicates that I am repressing my emotions when I should be communicating them with others. It also tells me to pay attention to what is inside the bottle and that seeing an empty bottle implies that you feel emotionally fatigued and don’t possess enough mental energy. I don’t have enough mental energy because these dreams keep me up all night. Vicious cycle. To conserve energy I suggest combining needed services, such as the purchasing of coconuts and the mail dispersal system.
ICE: Dream Moods says that seeing ice in my dream suggests that I may be feeling emotionally paralyzed or rigid and that I need to let my feelings be known. Apparently even I don’t know what my feelings are, since they were tightly wrapped and sent off in sealed packages. I wonder who I shipped the boxes to? Maybe they will send me a thank you card in another dream and I’ll find out what I sent them.
BLOOD (X3: GETTING BLOOD DRAWN, BLOOD SOAKED INTO FLOOR BOARDS, AND CARTOON BLOOD CELLS IN THE DRAIN): Way of Tao tells me thatto see blood on something else (floor) reflects how I have disassociated from my feelings and I tend to explore emotions in an abstract way. Dream Moods tells me that if I am dreaming of giving blood, then it suggests that I am feeling physically drained due to stress. Blah blah, emotions, emotions, fatigue, fatigue. Booooring. I couldn’t find cartoon blood or blood cells anywhere on the dream interpretation sites.
TATTOO: Dream Forth: To see tattoos on those around you is a warning. Someone in your waking life will soon become jealous of you and what you have achieved. Right….according to this analysis I have achieved repression of emotions and fatigue. Oh, joy. Or, alternatively, maybe I have achieved the genius idea of creating a combined grocery store and post office. Patent pending.
Ok, so not totally from my dream but I thought it was worth pointing out that Dream Moods tells me that if I am a tattoo artist, and I dream about being a tattoo artist, then the dream is just a reflection of who I am. Seriously? Even though the most crazy, convoluted dream resulted in two clear themes, I would still like to point out that these dream interpretations seem pretty weak, at times.
I go to McDonalds for breakfast with my sister, Angela and my uncle, Mike. We are sitting in a booth waiting for the McDonald’s staff to bring it to us, and it is taking forever. While sitting at the booth waiting for our food, my uncle’s truck suddenly goes from being parked outside to accelerating across the street – smashing into an apartment building. We run outside and investigate. It is unmanned. We are shocked. We go back into the McDonalds and continue to wait for our food. While waiting, my uncle notices these little metal pieces along the edge of the booth. There are three areas that contain metal pieces – one on each side of the booth (none on the side where you get in). His cell phone is very attracted, magnetically, to the pieces. He connects this to the sudden acceleration of his car – blaming it on McDonalds. We think we are discovering a huge conspiracy in which these metal pieces are starting to control things/us. He wants to compile more evidence before he accuses. We get our food and McDonald’s has changed their hash browns from their original delicious, greasy goodness into thick cut steak fries. Ew. I was the last to leave and Angela parked my car so I couldn’t find it right away. I go down a street – it is a college student street – and they are having some kind of robotics competition. There are massive robots set up in front of every house (each robot is almost as big as each house). I notice my cell phone starts behaving oddly when I get close to the large robots. I connect what my uncle said earlier to this occurrence and realize something really is going on, some magnetic phenomenon causing electronic (and motor…) devices to do things on their own. I break into one of the houses and snoop. I look in the cupboards. Then I have to use the bathroom so I go back to McDonalds and I see two of my friends – Melissa and Meredith there. Meredith comes inside and tells Melissa, “I think you ran over your drugs with the tire of your car”. Melissa goes outside to take care of car/drugs……I am not sure if this relates to the metal conspiracy or if Melissa is just a druggie, in my dream.
ROBOTS: Dream Forth tells me that robots suggest a structured, repetitious, mechanical and unemotional way of going about my life. I’m quite sure my husband would argue with Dream Forth on this, at least in terms of the unemotional part. I cry at 90% of commercials and movies that we watch together. Maytag commercials around holiday time? Check. Movie scene depicting a kid who is bullied, and then becomes a hero? Check. Serial killer in a movie pets a kitten? Check. Cow affectionately licks farmer on a milk commercial? Check. I really don’t discriminate. My husband has a very strict anti-talking policy, during T.V. or movie watching, yet he regularly breaks his own rule when he says to me, “Are you crying, again?”. All I have to say in regards to this is that since the advent of DVR, the whole no-talking-during-T.V. policy seems outdated. Come on, you can effing pause. You can rewind. Not that I am able to talk very much while boohooing anyway, so perhaps this is a moot point.
Dream Moods says perhaps I have lost the ability to express my feelings. I do tend to hold emotions in, and continue to do so, until BLAM! A fissure forms and uncontrollable pressures and volumes emit from my wordhole. Sometimes liquids spew from my eyeballs at the same time. I’m sort of like a volcano. Of course, I’ve always been that, so technically I wouldn’t say I’ve lost the ability to effectively express myself, verbally. It’s always been a bit of a disability area, for me. A small scale vent erupted yesterday. During a horriblefrustratingbullshit important work meeting, I continued to blurt out accusatory statements, sarcastic comments and a multitude of questions to our principal, while simultaneously refusing to smile at her inane jokes. Maybe not such a smart thing to do. Humpsh. Oh well.
Way of Tao has a slightly different interpretation and says that perhaps the robots in my dream mean I have a mechanical way of being. Hm, if this means I mechanically leave all the lights on in the house, mechanically leave the cupboards open and mechanically forget what I went into a room for, the minute I step into said room, then perhaps this is accurate. Instead of calling me lazy or forgetful, this behavior can now be referred to as robotic. That sounds better, right?
STEAK FRIES (EW. HASHBROWNS ARE BETTER): Dream moods didn’t specifically have information regarding steak fries, but they did tell me that french fries in my dream suggests that I should not overlook the frivolous and seeminly minute things in life. Ok, these interpretations are making me seem like a veritable dullard. I do enjoy the little things. I become happily obsessed with creative hobbies, that change by the day. I enjoy my coffee dates with friends and chatting with my family. I get excited about strange things, like my favorite mineral (Quartz – SiO2!) or my favorite element (Carbon!) or my favorite cell organelle (Lysosomes!). I’ve got a lot of little favorites and they might be weird or silly, but certainly all combine to create a pretty splended and fulfilling life.
METAL: This is what the robots were made of. Way of Tao tells me that because metal is usually ‘prepared’ or shaped into something for display, seeing metal in my dreams means I am portraying something other than my organic nature . I’m pretty sure that my principal saw more bitchiness of my organic nature than she wanted to see. I need to work a bit on my uncontrollable rage extreme emotional displays, at times. Way off base this time, Tao. Dream moods tells me that seeing metal in my dreams signifies strength and character. I like this one.
DRUGS: Way of Tao suggests that dreaming about drugs can be indicative of not facing the idea of substance abuse. Well, we have established in previous posts that my two glasses of wine at night is not a substance abuse problem, but merely a formal scientific investigation. You can’t argue with science. (Sidebar: Do you know that even though the defitinition of science is the methodical study of the material world, and “answers” are constantly updated as new material emerges, people still DO argue with science? A few examples of those barmy peeps are The Flat Earth Society members, or those who believe in Geocentrism. Note that these are REAL websites, not parodies. Scary.)
A group of us teachers, about 20 or so, are secretly hiding out in the board office. We are elsewhere during the day, but after everyone who works in the building leaves for the night, we pull our items out of hiding spots and appear to live there. People pull out couches, clothing, lamps, and other household items. We must have very large hiding spots. Food and drink are in abundance, and every night is a party. We have to be careful to make sure none of our remnants remain, after we clean up in the morning, so no one knows that we are secretly living there. One of my co-workers owns a tall, pointed dunce cap that has words printed on the side reading something like “Po Polski Liu Lingiati” which translates (from my made up dream language to the actual language of English) roughly to “You can make fun of the Poles, but you cannot make fun of us”. Right, this is totally not politically correct. And it doesn’t make sense. But remember, this is a dream. To further confuse you/me, in my dream for some reason this saying is slang for meaning you are very “anti board-member”. We must be rebels.
At one point, I am on a roof with some others and we look down and notice a horse is lying on its side. There is a guy somehow attached to the horse (tied to the horse?) and the horse is bunny kicking the guy with his hooves. He is totally scratching the guy up, and the guy is bleeding all over. We try to think of a plan to disengage the man from the horse, so he doesn’t get hooved to death. I’m not sure what ends up happening with that guy, or the horse.
Our secret life in hiding comes to an end, when one day there is an emergency board meeting very early in the morning. We didn’t have enough time to hide any of our items, so our principals and superintendent walk in to find our stash strewn about the room. They are completely shocked, particularly about the couches (how long have you been here?!) and the dunce cap. They kept saying things like “How are we going to explain this?” and “What are we going to do about this?”
Note: I would like to point out that when I am awake, I work for a district with a very sensible school board.
SCHOOL BOARD OFFICE: Way of Tao states that an office portrays work and issues relating to how you are currently providing for yourself or your role and sense of achievement in life. Well, this is an ever-evolving theme for me as I seem to continually change jobs, both my “real” full time jobs, and my part time jobs on the side. Even now, while l love the job(s) I have, I continually job search and want to know what other career possibilities exist……I am not sure if I will ever figure out what I want to be when I grow up. But, I will keep looking.
HIDING: Dream Moods tells me that if I am hiding, it could mean I am escaping confrontation, while Dream Force says I could be withholding information, keeping a secret, or I could have feelings of guilt. Well, I will let you know from now that I AM keeping a secret or two, but clearly I cannot tell you what they are. And no, I’m not pregnant, so if you ask me if that is my secret I might punch you. In the gonads. (Sidebar: Did you know that both males and females have gonads? It’s not only the guys. Gonads are simply where the gametes are stored – the eggs or sperm. So another way of saying this could be that I might punch you in the baby-maker. Gender neutral.)
ROOF: According to Way of Tao, the roof of a structure shows limitations. As a setting of activity, something taking place on a roof can portray your desire to break through barriers in achieving your ambitions. Hmm. See School Board Office. I just updated my resume.
WHITE HORSE: Dream Force tells me this indicates having control over things and directing them towards my aim. It adds that a white horse signifies purity and good fortune. I’m not sure if this still applies to a white horse that is kicking the shit out of someone, possibly to death. But, if this does indicate good fortune heading my way, let us hope that it comes wrapped in the pretty package of a winning lotto ticket. This way I can figure out what it is that my heart actually fancies, without the constraints of a 9-5.
DUNCE CAP: I couldn’t find dunce cap, so had to settle with a partial translation of this term. According to Dream Forth, dreaming of a cap implies that I prefer being casual to being uptight. Very true! In fact, I am hoping that my next job is one with no dress code. (Maybe I’ll work from home? Or wear scrubs? Or win the lotto and sit on my ass?) It also indicates the necessity for me to be more open to other opinions and viewpoints. Well, that is just a preposterous presumption. I mean really, I wasn’t wearing the cap, it wasn’t even my cap. The idea of me not being open-minded is just absurd. Whoever has that view of me is clearly a muttonhead. Since I couldn’t find dunce cap, and only half of the term was deciphered, it only makes sense to believe only one half of this interpretation. Specifically, the half that doesn’t tell me I need to be more open-minded. What a nitwitted notion! Certainly not worth contemplating the possibility that it could be true. Bah.
My husband is trying to kill a spider on the wall. The spider is peeking out from underneath a curled up piece of wallpaper, so just a leg or two pokes out. He hits the wall, paper towel in hand, but keeps missing it, as one or more of the “spider legs” keeps moving out of the way. As he continues trying, the leg keeps growing larger and larger. He gets frustrated and says to me, “I can’t do this. You kill this thing!” The leg keeps getting bigger. We both wince as we think we are about to witness the largest spider ever, emerging from beneath the paper. But, we are surprised to find that what we are looking at is not, in fact, a spider leg but is actually an enormous tentacle. A giant nautilus-like creature pops out from underneath the wallpaper, and it is holding a wild boar with one of its arms. The boar is hanging upside down. The nautilus has a massive eye, which glares at us. Both the nautilus and the boar are very wet and shiny, coated in some type of viscous oil. As we watch, our jaws open, the nautilus scurries up into the ceiling. It disappears and we are left standing there, my husband holding his unused paper towel in his hand. I am pretty sure the boar was dead.
Meanwhile, we have a fire lit in the living room – but either because of embers popping out from the hearth, or simply due to a (severe?) lack of humidity in the room, parts of the living room keep spontaneously bursting into flames. A wooden chair. A stack of records. The bookshelf. I try to blow out the small fires each time they spring up. Our white chair is scorched. I think that I should keep checking on the room every 20 minutes or so to make sure the whole room doesn’t become engulfed in flames. The bottoms of the doors leading into the living room are cracked, chipped and peeling at the bottom, allowing a few inches of space where I can see inside, so I think to myself that at least I will be able to see light from a raging fire from the other room, if that were to happen.
SPIDER: Dream Moods informs me that a spider refers to a powerful force that helps protect me from my own destructive behavior. In this case, is my husband the protector, since he spotted the spider first? I like to think so. In real life he certainly reins me in, preventing me from negative excess, whether it be stressing out about trivial things, whining for hours or guzzling gallons of beer. I mean, don’t get be wrong, I do engage in these activities, frequently, it would just be even more out of control if he weren’t around. The only thing he doesn’t stop me from is from eating too many nachos. That we do together, excessively.
NAUTILUS: No entries for nautilus, but there were entries for squid, which are related, so therefore I figure their interpretations must also be related. Dream Moods tells me that squid could indicate that my judgment is clouded (is it not a good idea to eat an entire tray of nachos, washed down by 5 beers? Is this why I need protection from the spider?) Dream Force tells me the squid may mean indicate gluttony. Ah, yes. My nacho/beerfest. Guilty.
FIRE: Way of Tao suggests that fire could be symbolic of transformation and passion, while Dream Force says it could indicate enthusiasm, passion, or anger. Passion appears to be the common theme. If you know me, you know that if I take on a project, hobby or job, it is because I am passionate about doing it. I may even become slightly obsessive – restrained only by my husband/protector/spider. This continues to be true until I become fervidly devoted to something new, causing me to drop the old attraction immediately. This could explain why I haven’t stuck with one job longer than 3 years. Fickle as I may be when it comes to hobbies or jobs, my devotion has never waivered when it comes to complaining, imbibing beer, or mowing down nachos.
I am on overnight vacation with 20+ people, some friends and some co-workers. We are staying in a large cottage, and the weekend is over, so we are cleaning up and getting ready to leave. There are tremendous amounts of food scraps (shredded carrots, zucchini, bread, onions) on the counter that I am putting into a garbage bag. My coworker, we’ll call him Pete, comes into the cottage from outside, looks around guiltily and then tosses a bloody knife (one of my nice, sharp Cutco knives) into my garbage bag. I worry that if the police find this, in my trash/cottage, I might be an accomplice to murder. While I am in the middle of cleaning I suddenly realize that the entire crew is waiting for me in a large Greyhound bus. I walk up to the buys and they are all staring at me with incredibly evil looks. They are all waiting for me and are impatient to get going. It is going to be a several hour trip back, through the mountains. I try to explain I can’t leave the scraps of food on the counters or in the trash, as it will smell. My dad is going to the cottage next week and he will not be happy if it smells like rotting food. I am also still worried about the knife and do not want to leave the bloody utensil in the trash can in case the police come to investigate. All of this is going through my head, as my friends continue to eyeball me. They are SO MAD. Everyone is being so mean to me that I cry.
Also mixed in somehow, during this entire time I am involved in a scheme supposedly helping young boys in Malawi. It is similar to the email scheme to send money to a millionaire in Nigeria – except snail mail instead of email. I send MANY envelopes in blue post boxes.
At the end, I receive a call from my friend Arlene, who lives in Scotland, while watching a movie in a baroque theater – so I miss most of the movie.
BLOODY KNIFE: Okay, it was hard to find something specific, since I wasn’t actually holding the knife, or cutting with the knife. There was no entry for simply “bloody knife”. So, we’ll just give up on that one, and here is a free plug for Cutco. These knives ROCK. They are super sharp. My husband once cut right through an avocado pit and sliced his thumb in half. It bled for days. Disgusting? Yes. But, definitely a good advertisement for the effectiveness of their product.
SCRAPS OF FOOD: Way of Tao suggests that foods such as vegetables indicate unknown gestation or not acknowledging growth within. Well, I am quite sure I am not pregnant, so what other “growth within” could be happening in there? Ooooh, maybe I absorbed my own twin in utero, and teeth or hair or other remnants of said twin are continuing to grow within me? Or, do I have some kind of cancerous growth that will burst forth painfully in the future? That seems much less fun. I suddenly have the urge to get a CAT scan.
MEAN FRIENDS: Dream Forth tells me that if my friends are troubled or upset they may be suffering from stress or illness. Ah, finally an easy one. They are stressed. I know this because most of my co-workers and friends are teachers and we are all stressed. We deal with stressed kids and stressed parents and other stressed teachers, so the stress just sort of spreads out to everybody. This is one reason we tend to drink heavily. My family has to deal with me, and sometimes my friends, which stresses them out. So they drink. On a positive note, the result of this stress-fest is that we now have a collective hobby and can go have a beer together at the cottage.
BAROQUE THEATER: Not gonna lie, I didn’t even try looking this one up. If you happen to check into it and find something amazing, let me know.
MALAWI: None of the sites have an interpretation for what Malawi means. I’m starting to think that there could be a very lucrative business, helping those who wish to discern the unique details of their dreams. Clearly, there is a gaping hole within the dream translation business that needs to be filled.
BLUE POST BOXES: Dream Forth tells me that U.S. mail boxes mean someone might ask me to participate in unlawful activity. I suppose I was asked, indirectly by Pete, to aid and abet his unlawful and bloody acts. As for any future nefarious activity any of you might be plotting, it sounds like I’m your girl if you need some back up.