Okay so last night I had another dream where I was at school (this time it was university, but still) and lost.
Except this time I ran across a really bubbly young woman, who seeing me looking confused took my arm, and when I told her were I wanted to go, she found us a rather round-about route.
Along the way, she asked me if I would like to join her and some friends instead of going to class, and I was very tempted, especially as I was going to be late, and I had apparently missed the first day of that class, but I decided I should at least try the class before withdrawing.
Now, I should be clear I didn't seem to be sexually attracted to her, nor her to me, I just found her to be such a happy and fun person that I wouldn't have minded spending more time in her company.
The dream ended with us approaching the building where the class and me saying something about how nice it was to have a pretty girl on my arm.
And that's it.
Interesting, no?
Comments
I wish it was simple.
I wish it was simple. Unfortunately it never is. I know, I''m an ass for camping your blog post as a writing prompt. I'll apologize now. Maybe you can forgive me.
I'm convinced that witch doctors, somnambulists and Sigmund Freud project their own conclusions onto whatever story that I tell them about myself. I try not to get too wrapped up in proof by assertion of authority when the motives are so transparent. My therapist has her own motivations. And as much as she wants to help me she also acts on her motivations. I love her and I pay her and I respect what she has to say. I also have this little nut of fear in the back of my head that I cling to. I cannot fully release into trust. I don't think I could if I wanted to.
When I look up in some book what this symbol means in a book about dreams or what this bump on my head says about my propensity for illness or what my therapist has to say about most anything I have to take it with a grain of salt. My car has a computer that tells it to fire that spark plug when the crank is in such and such a position. I'm not nearly that mechanical. Or maybe I am and I'm too self absorbed to notice.
I've given up on ever understanding what I am. I've given up on trying to understand or trying to get others to share my story. The best I can get is sympathy, a dash of empathy and an opportunity to have someone nod in all the right places. Apparently I value the opportunity at about $120/month.
My dreams don't have any special meaning. The dream about flying and getting tangled in power lines or the dream about ironing a very large sheet or the dream about falling or the one where I have to use a GUI to navigate thorough my day. Or the hundreds of other dreams are just dreams. I'm not even sure anymore if I am the one dreaming.
I don't accept that I have free will in any real moment to moment sense. I accept that my behaviors are the sum of all the causes and effects that pepper this big blob of fatty tissue and nerve endings. On the other hand I do accept that I have no choice but to behave as if I do have free will. That leads me to conclude that I am as responsible for my dreams as I am for anything else I do.
Dorothy, Thanks for giving me this prompt and I'm sorry for camping out on it. You are a beautiful person and I hope that if we ever meet we can be friends.
Peace, Love, Grace
Your friend
Crash