Tag Archives: dreams

Listen

Last nights dream-

I was deaf, or at least very close to deaf, I could faintly hear voices, far away and mumbled voices. I was installing a helium tank to some kind of large mechanical device. Every time I turned a lever or knob, steam escaped from the machine in violent spurts and billows. A big man was giving me instructions from about 12 feet away but I couldn’t hear him. I kept screaming “what”?! He became frustrated with me and I could tell he was yelling at me but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. As soon as steam came out of the machine I would turn the levers back to stop it. I was getting the idea that this is exactly what I was not supposed to be doing but I was so frightened by the steam that I couldn’t help myself. The big man was irate and I was becoming afraid of him as well as the steam. I was screaming, trying to explain to him that I was deaf but he didn’t believe me.

Interpretation-

Well, I actually do have hearing loss in my right ear due to years of espresso grinders always being on my right side and yesterday I was especially annoyed by this slight handicap. However I think the dream meant much more than being annoyed by mumbled conversation.

While I am making a great effort at informing myself as much as possible about my pregnancy and what to expect with labor and the caring of a newborn I need to accept the fact that things will not turn out the way I am so carefully planning in my own head. This shit will be scary. I am not the tough guy I pretend to be all the time. It’s OK to admit fear, to open the valves a little and share what I am really feeling. Opening up emotionally may even be more frightening than the challenges I am facing as a new Mother.

The “big man” who is angry with me may symbolize my rational side. He is frustrated because I am being so hesitant, he doesn’t understand the fear behind honest, the strength it takes to reveal the truth. He is a basic thinking man, a mechanical man. I have a hard time hearing him because I am locked in my fear. The “big man” (rational thought) is far away, demanding me to behave correctly, to listen. This man also reminded me of my Father. He often comes to me in dreams and many times he has given me this exact advice, “listen”.

I am listening.

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I dreamed..., Memories of Dad

Shamu sneaks into my bed

I have been writing for 8 hours, my back aches and my head is pounding. A pot and a half of coffee has kept the kid active all day. I feel like he is keeping me company, his kicks almost as rhythmic as my typing. I look back on what I have accomplished. Only 10 fucking pages. Seriously? I have been writing my entire life but I never really sat down and took it this seriously with a  goal in mind.

I am committed to finishing my novel before I give birth because I certainly won’t have the time to write for 8 hours straight once he pops out and demands every ounce of energy from me. My days will be consumed with breast-feeding and changing diapers and not much else. Any writing I do will most likely be a sleep deprived mess of words, lacking much sense or creativity. Or maybe I will be so inspired by my new role in life that I will start writing fuzzy childrens books with mice that wear purple underwear and ride bicycles while knitting hats for friendly whales.

Speaking of whales, I am going to have to face my all time biggest fear; motherfucking orca whales. Yep, Shamu is the absolute scariest thing in the entire world. I can’t even look at them on television without screaming and throwing my hands over my face. Those damn Sea World commercials get me every time. They show the fucking things flying, literally flying through the sky and I am supposed to act normal?

Well, I am going to have to start acting normal because I don’t want the kid to be afraid of something as stupid as a whale. I mean, in what situation am I ever going to find myself alone in the open water surrounded by killer whales? Which actually is not my real fear. I have dreams where killer whales are no longer confined to the sea or swimming pools at theme parks. They slither up and down city streets and make their way into my home, their giant black and white slimy bodies hovering above my bed, that giant eyeball staring right at me. Oh god, they are so fucking disgusting. But, I have to get over it. I cannot react to a Sea World commercial with a hysterical yelp once the kid is here, only encouraging other such irrational fears in him.

I’m not saying that I ever intend on going to Sea World with the kid. His Father can take him and they will have a lovely time while I stay home, far away from that big eye pressed up against the glass. If he brings home a giant stuffed Shamu I must smile pleasantly even if I am screaming on the inside. So, I guess this is just one more sacrifice I am going to have to make for the sake of a healthy, happy child. Pretending to like Shamu, I can handle that one.

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Morgan Freeman Sundae Special

Last nights dream

Breastfeeding while everything falls apart around me, chaos and destruction. I keep walking with this tiny baby latched onto my breast. I have no idea where I am going yet I am not afraid and I do not hesitate. Men are scrambling for cover, an escape. I keep walking. Booming voices call out orders. I keep walking. There are explosions in the distance and the not so distant. A plane takes off near me, people are running for the door trying to climb aboard and falling out as the plane takes flight. Fences are being erected on all sides of me and are being torn down just as quickly by the frantic masses. I am oblivious to the mess which surrounds me, my only focus is to nourish and protect the tiny baby with my own strong able body. And I keep walking.

A dream from a few years ago

I was at a carnival and saw a sign that said “Morgan Freeman Sundae Special” and I knew I had to have one. I walked up to the booth and ordered the special. I was handed an ice cream sundae the size of a human head. It looked exactly like Morgan Freeman but it was made entirely out of ice cream and candies, whipped cream and chocolate sauce. It had little chocolate chips for his adorable freckles on his cheeks and his eyes were made out of marshmallows. The chocolate ice cream was cold and delicious and I was especially excited to find strawberries inside his head as the brain! It was the best ice cream sundae I had ever eaten. I don’t remember it having a gold earring like I have recently seen him wearing. I wonder if I accidentally swallowed it?

Hmmmm….

I haven’t had a silly dream in quite a while. I used to dream about ridiculous stupid shit all the time. I have written down thousands of dreams starting from when I was about 7 years old. My earliest dreams were those of cartoons, like a variation of Scooby-Doo and Sesame Street. Grover joins the gang and Scooby gets jealous, shit like that. I also began having nightmares (night terrors) around the same age or earlier. I still have them and it scares the shit out of anyone near me when I wake up with a scream. I never remember what I am dreaming about when I have a bad nightmare, I really don’t want to know what could possibly be that horrifying.

So, where did my silly dreams go to? Is this what it really means to grow up, to be an adult? I dream about awful shit and weird shit, but no silly shit, like eating Morgan Freemans head or Michael Myers as an interior decorator who has an unfortunate way with blood that his clients find a bit off-putting but are too scared to complain about. Or Ricky Ricardo joining a “Biggest Butt” contest and all the antics of Lucy and Ethel trying to enhance his rear while stuffing ice cream and butter into his mouth. I miss the nights where I woke up laughing from my dreams. Seriously, nothing beats the shit out of laughing in your sleep so hard that you wake yourself up.

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lock the door

Unavailable now that I am conscious,

so very fucking conscious.

More present in my dreams, more accountable.

The inconsistencies of waking life,

make sense when I lock my door.

Behind the wall, underground and burrowed deep

into the wet earth, I tunnel through and around myself.

Becoming a man, a child, a mutant worm digesting itself,

copulation becomes disintegration, multiplying the existence of nothing.

 

 

 

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Last Night’s Dream – Revised

Failed suicide attempts, over and over. Men shot themselves in the face and woke up completely healed.

I walked for days from bus stop to bus stop, the bus never came. I fell to my knees in exhaustion, people passed me, ignoring me completely. The hot gravel road dug into the palms of my hands, I looked towards the road and knew that I had only to crawl a few feet and it would all be over.

I later met a man covered in maggots, I wanted to clean him but he loved the maggots, they were all he had.

My (blind) Mother was driving a hearse, maneuvering around a graveyard, stopping to give directions to the men who were once again making suicide attempts. She was giving them advice.

Ok, I published this dream earlier today and apparently many people found it quite disturbing. It was not my intention to cause anyone concern. I always have dreams like this, in no way does it mean that I am in any way feeling suicidal. I am actually in a really good place right now. I am excited about being a Mom and I can’t wait to meet my little man.

Maybe a little interpretation of the dream might clear things up a bit.

Failed suicide attempts – I feel like I have done a lot of damage to my body over the years, not caring about my health at all. I am so grateful that I am in good health now that I am pregnant.

Walking for days, waiting for bus – This part of the dream took place near where I used to live in a  somewhat rural area. I would literally wait for hours in the sun for a bus that sometimes never came. It was a flashback of sorts to that period of my life. I felt very removed from the world there and trapped by the seemingly constant stale heat.

The man covered in maggots – I have always had extreme empathy for homeless men, disfigured men, lonely outcast men. But I know that I really can’t help anyone, the best I can do is to give a smile and say “hello, in there-o.”

Mom driving hearse – this one I can’t get into.

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Silence the bullshit

Two different dreams (they might be connected)

SSSHH

I found some videos of my Dad that I had never seen before. It was a video of him video taping a picnic. The camera would occasionally pan around and show him looking towards the camera. In the last scene he looks right at me and puts his finger to his mouth making a silent “sssshhh” and says “Regina, be quiet”.

Privacy?

I was in an awkward bathroom and I could hear a lot of people outside the room having a party or a fight, I couldn’t tell which. I had a bad case of the shits and was super paranoid about someone walking in. I finished and flushed the toilet. The water began to rise, and rise. As the brown reeking water teetered precariously at the rim, the door opened and in came my entire family. They had platters of food, balloons and flowers. However they were also arguing with each other so it was apparently a party and a fight going on. Actually, when family is involved there isn’t much difference between a party and a fight. I was mortified and screamed as the toilet sputtered and the flow of shitty water poured out and over the floor covering everyone’s feet in slimy brown stinking filth. They seemed oblivious to the mess and simply continued the quarreling and consuming of mini sandwiches and spinach dip. My attempts at stopping the flow with towels and such were to no avail and I eventually gave up.

Conclusion? A connection?

I am mortified at the idea of childbirth. I realize that it is obviously inevitable. I even made the huge mistake of watching birth videos on youtube. If you are pregnant DO NOT WATCH these sort of videos! I wish so fucking bad that I had not. It’s not necessary, it’s going to happen whether you are prepared for it or not.

I am also terribly anxious about my family being all up in my business. I don’t want a baby shower, I don’t want anyone asking me how I am and I really don’t want anyone fucking touching me.

My Dad was always so understanding of my quirks and gave me my space when I wanted it and gave the best goddamn hugs when I needed them. So, I think he’s telling me to chill, to shut the fuck up and just try to enjoy this time of my life without getting all caught up in the bullshit.

Thanks Dad, I love you.

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Filed under I am Pregnant, I dreamed..., I remember, Memories of Dad

Last nights dream

      I was at a graveyard having a picnic with a girl that I do not recognize but I seem to be quite familiar with her in the dream. We are having a nice time with our blanket spread out between the graves. I am enjoying the endless landscape of ancient trees, great white clouds, dark green grass-covered hills and tombstones. Then shit gets weird as it always does in my dreams. There is a huge mausoleum next to us with giant smokestacks which are now spewing ash and red glowing embers into the air. The stench is horrific; burning hair with a sort of mustard like aftertaste. The embers land on our picnic blanket and it goes up in flames. The girl is screaming and running around maniacally while I just watch the scene around me like a slow motion movie. Her hair begins burning and as she rolls around on the ground to extinguish the flames she wraps herself up in the flaming blanket and rolls down the hill, a flaming bouncing ball of screams. I just stare and laugh at the situation that surrounds me.

       My Great Grandmother apparently escaped from the mausoleum (she actually is interned at a mausoleum) during the mayhem and we made plans to go on some carnival rides that were set up nearby. She was so spry, like an excited child. And she was dressed like a child as well; white shirt with a  ruffled collar, short pink pleated skirt, knee-high socks and saddle oxfords. I had to hold on to her hand as we walked so she wouldn’t run off and get lost.

     The first ride we get on looks like it might be fun but turns out to be a behind the scenes tour of tropical themed bars. It’s just sticky scenes of leis hanging on alcohol bottles, neon Corona signs, inflatable flamingos hanging from drooping ceiling tiles and tired looking bartenders in Hawaiian shirts serving desperate groups of middle-aged secretaries on a Thursday night. It’s a disappointing way to spend the day with my Great Grandmother and I feel like I have let her down. She is tired and wants to go back. She gets off the ride by herself and leaves. I stay on the ride hoping it will get better.

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