A Potpourri of Dreams
All in one exhausting night, here's what I dreamt...
Dream One: Apparently, I know American Idol’s Season Two runner-up, Clay Aiken (not know in the Biblical sense, you pervs). I’m coming home from somewhere (probably work, most likely work as I look and feel like crap) and he’s in the back of a limo with this faceless, grotesquely obese man. They’re on their way to an event. I get the feeling that Clay wants to ask me to join them, but he’s hesitant, and of course with me looking like crap (I think I was wearing my holey red sweatpants) I didn’t say anything. (Plus, would I dare presume that one Clay Aiken would want to take little ol’ me to an event?)
Analysis: Clay should have won.
Dream Two: Please don’t stop reading, but in this one, I’m having a fight with talk-show host, Montel Williams. Rather, I’m being verbally attacked by trash-tv host, Montel Williams. He’s essentially telling me what a horrible person I am, and as I’m trying to escape his words, he’s following me, yelling. Then he morphs into Geraldo Rivera. Fortunately, I wake up.
Analysis: Montel and Geraldo need new jobs.
Dream Three Part One: I’m stuck in a bit of a time warp, and know that the next event that’s going to happen is that someone’s going to break into my house and kill me. I’m relatively calm about this, just in the kitchen, cooking and doing dishes. Then it suddenly dawns on me: Wait just a minute. If I already know that someone’s going to break into my house and kill me, why don’t I just leave the house? I should go to the airport and leave the country. I don’t stick around in the dream long enough to see if my new master plan will have positive effects (namely, that I don’t get killed, duh). Luckily, I wake up.
Analysis: It probably really means something about my needing to take control of my own destiny and blah, blah, blah, but let's just say: I’m not too quick on the uptake in my dreams.
Dream Three Part Two: I'm visiting a prison where the prisoners are kept in low, open-topped cages. The cages are very small, and the prisoners are chained in so that they have to lie down in the fetal position and can't even turn over. In the dream, I think, This is wrong. No wonder there's so much violence in the world. I wake up, trembling.
Analysis: Entrapment and torture, but by whom? I need to start teaching less depressing topics.
Dream Four: I’m replaying the plot of a novel I’ve recently read, transforming it into images. The specific moment is a large family is immigrating to North America from Ireland, and the mother dies, leaving the main character in charge. The problem is that I can’t remember which book it is, so I run through a list of recent reads through my head: Girl With a Pearl Earring? (No, that’s where her dad’s blind.) Rebecca? (No, marries the odd rich guy with a haunting dead wife.) Clarissa V. hosts a party? (No, silly, that’s Mrs. Dalloway.) I wake up before I get through my list and it dawns on me, Alias Grace!
Analysis: Margaret Atwood is a damn good writer. I need to add her to my favorites!
Dream Five: Hot sex with a hot man (no idea who, but if you see him, send him my way). All over different houses and neighborhoods, in many different positions. Many times. It’s fun. It’s good though a bit blurry. Blurry can be good. Depressingly, I wake up.
Analysis: Sigh. Don't make me say it.
Dream One: Apparently, I know American Idol’s Season Two runner-up, Clay Aiken (not know in the Biblical sense, you pervs). I’m coming home from somewhere (probably work, most likely work as I look and feel like crap) and he’s in the back of a limo with this faceless, grotesquely obese man. They’re on their way to an event. I get the feeling that Clay wants to ask me to join them, but he’s hesitant, and of course with me looking like crap (I think I was wearing my holey red sweatpants) I didn’t say anything. (Plus, would I dare presume that one Clay Aiken would want to take little ol’ me to an event?)
Analysis: Clay should have won.
Dream Two: Please don’t stop reading, but in this one, I’m having a fight with talk-show host, Montel Williams. Rather, I’m being verbally attacked by trash-tv host, Montel Williams. He’s essentially telling me what a horrible person I am, and as I’m trying to escape his words, he’s following me, yelling. Then he morphs into Geraldo Rivera. Fortunately, I wake up.
Analysis: Montel and Geraldo need new jobs.
Dream Three Part One: I’m stuck in a bit of a time warp, and know that the next event that’s going to happen is that someone’s going to break into my house and kill me. I’m relatively calm about this, just in the kitchen, cooking and doing dishes. Then it suddenly dawns on me: Wait just a minute. If I already know that someone’s going to break into my house and kill me, why don’t I just leave the house? I should go to the airport and leave the country. I don’t stick around in the dream long enough to see if my new master plan will have positive effects (namely, that I don’t get killed, duh). Luckily, I wake up.
Analysis: It probably really means something about my needing to take control of my own destiny and blah, blah, blah, but let's just say: I’m not too quick on the uptake in my dreams.
Dream Three Part Two: I'm visiting a prison where the prisoners are kept in low, open-topped cages. The cages are very small, and the prisoners are chained in so that they have to lie down in the fetal position and can't even turn over. In the dream, I think, This is wrong. No wonder there's so much violence in the world. I wake up, trembling.
Analysis: Entrapment and torture, but by whom? I need to start teaching less depressing topics.
Dream Four: I’m replaying the plot of a novel I’ve recently read, transforming it into images. The specific moment is a large family is immigrating to North America from Ireland, and the mother dies, leaving the main character in charge. The problem is that I can’t remember which book it is, so I run through a list of recent reads through my head: Girl With a Pearl Earring? (No, that’s where her dad’s blind.) Rebecca? (No, marries the odd rich guy with a haunting dead wife.) Clarissa V. hosts a party? (No, silly, that’s Mrs. Dalloway.) I wake up before I get through my list and it dawns on me, Alias Grace!
Analysis: Margaret Atwood is a damn good writer. I need to add her to my favorites!
Dream Five: Hot sex with a hot man (no idea who, but if you see him, send him my way). All over different houses and neighborhoods, in many different positions. Many times. It’s fun. It’s good though a bit blurry. Blurry can be good. Depressingly, I wake up.
Analysis: Sigh. Don't make me say it.
posted by TessaJ at 10:14 AM
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