My dream mood shifts to follow the course of my life in such attuned nuance that it really is hard for me to ignore the correlation between my waking happenings and my night time “processing” sessions. I am currently on the precipice of some new ideas, and I’m feeling good about the direction I’m taking. I haven’t had a “good” dream in years – but while this dream was host to romantic rejection and natural disaster – it also had some triumphs.
It started on a small farm next to the sea. San Francisco was a few miles inland from this little fishing village where my good friend lived. My “good friend” took the form of my first love. I acted as a sort of accomplice and wingman to his social circle, and was on a mission to help him obtain a dummy. He had a beautiful stalker who wouldn’t leave him alone; our idea was to place the dummy on his couch, as if a woman were sleeping there, so that when she came to his door she would see he had “company.” I had taken the bus into SF, it was a tour bus, but I didn’t mind. The leaders were a couple, it seemed – with the woman in white spandex and the man in an emoji-patterned sweat suit. Once in the city, the three of us became a sort of 80’s cardio squad. Racing around, high kicking the air, and doing pull ups off of construction scaffolding. I could do limitless pull ups – I could even do them one handed with my newly obtained dummy under one arm.
As I returned to the village, in new cardio spandex, my adrenaline stepped up a notch, the ocean was receding and the air was blistery. Tsunami. I jumped on a tree branch and did a few pull-ups, then started running towards my friend’s house. “Hurry!” I screamed at him. He, coming up from the shore, saw the panic in my face and raced towards the house. He had just enough time to throw a handful of beans into the door and lock it before a wave of water washed over us. The water was fluffy and light, not the thick cold slab I expected. A cotton candy tsunami. It washed over and tumbled us into the garden, leaving us panting and glistening in the mud surrounded by still-rooted tomatoes and cucumbers. The vegetables gleamed beneath traces of ocean foam. “Did you get the dummy?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said, “I was thinking – you could also just have your wife be at home.” He gave me a “well that’s a stupid idea” look. His wife, who was represented in my dream by his real-life sister, was sweet and child-ladden – waddling around with her sticky freckled brood. “Ok, you’re right.” I said, “she’s busy.”
I am in a dim lit room and an attractive older man is lounging on the bed. We are playing Scrabble and I want him to want me. I am making obviously suggestive gestures, but in my mind I’m playing it cool. He is leveling me with an unamused stare. He feels sorry for me, I can tell. Then, my aunt walks in. She is a beautiful ex-playmate with silver blonde hair and a statuesque frame. “Honey, why don’t you pour me some wine so I’m not so nervous,” she says to me as she slides close to nuzzle the gentleman I was just trying to seduce. Sent off like a puppy, I do as she says, and proceed to mope idly about the corners of the room.
Anxiety Level: 1
Commentary: As far as my dreams go, this was on the “better” side. Besides the tsunami- which wasn’t destructive – and the rejection – which wasn’t horrible – it was almost enjoyable: The pull-up powers gave it a hint of the happiness one derives from a flying dream.
I’ve been taking care of my sister for the last week, playing “full-time mom” – which is probably why my friend’s wife/sister showed up. My mother is in Hawaii still, visiting my aunt – who made a cameo to swoop in and kill my game. Emoji-patterned sweat suit? Totally a thing. I didn’t know about them until this week. Save the beans before the tsunami? Compliments of the magic beanstalk beans from “Into The Woods,” which I watched this week.
Symbolism: Pull-ups? Got it! Tsunami? Child’s play! Tsunamis can represent a life event, change, or stressful feeling confronting us – but my wave didn’t devour me, just a little tossel and rinse. I was kicking ass at pull ups, which apparently may signify a challenge to be overcome. So, without lingering much on the gentleman, my pathetic attempts at seduction, and consequent rejection in favor of a 65 year old – I’m going to call this dream a win. *High Five*