The good news is that I must be getting R.E.M. sleep, because I’m dreaming. But the dreams Questionable.
For instance. I dreamt that I was terminal. I was told, so I knew. I had 5 months or 2 days. Five months, two days, what’s the difference It’s just the end as you know it. I remember questioning the incongruity of dates while in the midst of the dream, but not enough to go lucid. As in, to change the outcome and turn the dream into whatever I wanted. So I basically accepted the end and dealt with it. The two days and five months turned out to be equivalent in the dream, and I didn’t panic when faced with demise. I wasn’t sad, or angry, or any of those seven stages, whatever they are (denial, anger, etc.). I think I pretty much just said, okay. Okay Awake, and recalling the dream, I wonder at myself and how I could possibly be okay with that. In real life I want to live, especially long enough to raise my child. So, interpretation I’m a wuss. Basically.
Last night I had a convoluted dream in which I was participating in a graduation ceremony of sorts. We, the accomplished, were instructed to take our places at these markers at the edge of a giant swimming pool. The markers were like those markers on the Rose Line as depicted in The DaVinci Code. We were to stand on our marker and during the ceremony we each would dive into the pool. I was trying to explain to the orchestrator that I wasn’t so much of a diver. She would have none of it, because this class I was graduating with was apparently some sort of a swim class, and we were all supposed to be accomplished divers. I had therefore had to have lied or used some sort of deceit in order to have gotten myself into this graduating class for which I was to be lauded. I was quite embarrassed that I would have to attempt to gracefully dive in front of an audience, and doubly embarrassed that my sham would be revealed. During these emotions, a standerby came into dream focus. It was the President, in point of fact. Madame President. Because the president was a she, and she was dressed in a smart creamy white business suit with black piping embroidered elaborately all over, like the meandering pattern I’ve seen on some beautiful wedding gown fabrics. Very high end. Tres chic. Tres Chanel. Or something. She was actually the evil Vice President character from Prison Break, if that means anything. And apparently, it was a well known fact that she was L. Not that that’s any big deal. In the dream, a coworker of mine appeared, also dressed in a smart creamy white business suit with similar black piped embellishment. They matched so nicely. Like twins. Two blondes. Similar bob haircuts. Slender. Tall. Although M. President was a bit older, perhaps ten to fifteen years older, than my coworker. It wasn’t the same suit, but very similar. She announced her alliance with the President, and I was a bit surprised, because she had been straight, to my knowledge, prior to this. Not that it mattered. I was just surprised. She chose this particular public ceremony in which I was involved to come out, so to speak. In retrospect, it might have been a good thing, because it distracted the public from my own fumbling attempt to demonstrate the dive for which I was ill-equipped. I remained embarrassed, however.
Bottom line Too much tv/movie time (DaVinci Code, Prison Break, synchronized swimming and twins appeared in a film I witnessed recently). Plus, that whole diving thing reminds me of public speaking and the feeling I get, and I am a Dale Carnegie graduate, after all. I was recently thinking about all the great things that I learned during my Carnegie training, and how I’ve not kept up with much of it at all. For shame. And finally That black piping I was reading about what can be done with a serger, as I have been coveting one for quite some time now. Decorative stitching, piping, and embroidery came up.
I don’t know what I think of dream analysis. I can usually find threads to relate to the myriad thoughts that cross my mind through the day. I think that dreams help to de-stress. All these fragments get woven into a dream that makes perfect sense while dreaming. Or else, sense is irrelevant whilst dreaming. Hence the freedom and release.
I would very much like to experience more of that lucid state in which I can fly, though. Now that is incredible. And wonderful.
