Analyze my dreams, please. Leave out any references to my inability to commit and dead dogs from my childhood, but do analyze my dreams.
I am committed to NaBloPoMoing my ass off this month, but I am also working a lot, exhausted and in need of a long shower, a cup of tea and a good night's sleep. So I will leave you with this to ponder, analyze and then make appropriate therapeutic recommendations based on your own experiences, that Dream Analysis for Dummies book on your desk you've been meaning to read since 1997, many conversations you had with your social worker grad student roommate or whatever it is that you personally base your words of wisdom on in situations like these.
Ever since I got this pillow and perhaps since I've been sleeping more, I have been sleeping much deeper. In fact, I've gone back to the crazy dreaming patterns that have ruled my REM through most of my life. Well, except when I am not sleeping enough to get to the place where characters are developed enough to hide out in my room until I wake up (usually rather naked) to throw me a surprise baby shower or the other wackadoodle shit they do in my dreams.
Over the last week or so, my dreams have amped up and I've woken up to my alarm groggy and still confused. As much as I hoped my dreaming life would become a complicated web of nonviolent ass kicking with me as the breastplate-wearing, sword-yielding samurai of sassiness and savagery, no such luck. I am lost. So please, help me out.
Why in the name of sleep deprivation did I dream I shoplifted from WalMart? And after I was caught and sitting in the security office waiting for the police to haul me out of that palace of low-prices and big hair wasn't I more upset that I lifted clothes when I was so willing to pay for all the other items in my bag? And why is the only thing I remember going through my mind in the dream -- no, it wasn't to run like hell past the old man security guard or some ethical justification for thievery -- complete confusion wrapped in one more little question, "What in the hell am I doing in WalMart?"
Before you go off on the virtues of stupendously cheaper diapers or Cheetohs or reinforced toe pantyhose, let's move on to the second dream that left me shaking my head.
Why did I dream I was in a cottage at a camp where the Almost Ex and I were splitting up a week with Lil E? And why in that dream did the Almost Ex ask me to hold his cell phone for him and then forget that it was in my pocket, where I found it later and immediately hacked my way in to purely for snooping purposes? And how was he savvy enough in that dream to snap photos of uploaded screen shots of all the posts I've ever written about getting divorced and save them in a mobile file with his attorney's name on it? And why, in the shock and horror of finding this technical wizardry that is laughable to imagine the Almost Ex even thinking of doing in waking life, did I choose not to delete the files? Why did I instead just squint soooooo hard to read those teeny tiny posts on the itsy bitsy cell screen that I woke up with my whole face scrunched up in worried concentration?
OK, go! Get to it! Tear apart those muthahs until you have my pysche nailed down. Please. And don't hold back. I am completely open here to any symbolism or subtext you uncover. In the meantime, I will be settling in for more subconconscious fucked upedness that will keep you busy for a good seven minutes tomorrow morning.
Reader Comments (5)
I think you're anxious about your divorce, raising your son, and the economic calamity besieging our nation. Hence you dream about your posts on your blog being sent to your almost-ex's lawyer, having to share your boy's time at a camp with the almost-ex, and shopping at Walmart, where in about 6 months we will all be waiting in line for bread, attempting to steal clothes, and reminiscing about when we used to be able to afford Target.
It's good that you're getting more sleep.
See you in the bread line,Mat