For the last four nights, I’ve had vivid dreams… and remembered them, which I rarely do. Maybe it’s because I wrote a piece based on a recurrent dream — well, nightmare — I had as a child. The whole Freudian listen-to-your-dreams thing has always struck me as a little goofy, but let’s have a little fun. Play along with me, won’t you?
- Night # 1 – The tale of the tumbledown house: I am doing a walk through of a house in terrible condition with a realtor and my husband (always the value real estate shopper). The location alone makes it a potential good investment (in Minnesota?) , but the place was built strangely and has lots of negatives: probable mold, harlequin red and green stained glass windows that make the interior strangely dark, and flooring in such poor condition that my stiletto heel (me in stilettos?) pokes through the subflooring spearing a chunk of pink insulation. I am in an increasing state of disbelief and finally say it’s too much of a mess. We walk away.
- Night #2 – Three dreams in which I arrive late, two in classrooms where poetry is being taught: In the first, a nonprofit board meeting, I am late and frustrated because I can’t get through the line to get in and then I don’t have a seat; in the second, I am late (again) and can’t understand the pattern of the list that the female teacher, a poet, is writing on the board; and in the third, I come in as class is wrapping up and seek out the teacher, a poet, after class to talk to him about the semester assignment to write 320 pages. I tell him I’m a Bennington writing student and he says, “You guys are the worst.” When I asked why, he said that we can write but we can never figure out how to pull the packet together. I tell him I’ve lived a little, that I want to explore The Word. He smiles and says I’ll do fine. I am relieved.
- Night #3 – Rainy season: The house on stilts where I am living with two children is safely above water level as the rainy season begins, but as I watch the waters rise slowly, I worry the road will flood and become pestilential. I am ticked at the base housing manager who is supposed to address the road drainage problem.
- Night #4 – A busy night of dreams: In the first, I recover in the hospital from a cracked spine injury and get out of bed to go to the cafeteria after the nurse tells me they ran out of food on the unit; then, after a vacation at a resort, I end up driving the bus with my fellow tourists down a narrow levee and then successfully (and confidently) back it down a switchback; finally, I go for a run alone along a drainage ditch in Davis.
Hmmm. Houses. Classrooms. Teachers. Late. Flooding. Driving. Running. There’s a story, isn’t there? At least one.
Turning to the wisdom of the Internet, here is one possible interpretation:
I am leaving behind my old attitudes (run down house) and expanding my knowledge (classroom), better late than never (late) and ready to learn (teacher). The good news is that my worries will soon be swept away (gentle flooding), I am healing (hospital) from some weakness (broken bone), have accepted the challenge before me (driving), have faith in myself (water), and am determined and motivated in the face of my goals (running alone).
Here is another:
I need to update my thinking (run down house) and I am learning an important life lesson (classroom). I am ambivalent about a new opportunity (late) and I have childhood anxieties that have never been resolved (school) and am looking for approval (teacher). I need to release some sexual desires (flooding) but am afraid of losing control (hospital) and there is a weakness in my plans (broken bone) plus I am facing setbacks (driving backwards). And finally I need to make a decision (running) and stop wallowing in my negative emotions (muddy drainage ditch).
You decide. And leave my sex life out of it. 😉