Saturday, January 26, 2008

Where's Jung When You Need Him?

Last night I managed (with the help of an exhausting week and two glasses of wine with a very late dinner) to get a few hours of very deep sleep. I was so far down into my subconscious that when the phone rang* early this morning, forcing me awake, it still felt like I was taking a freight elevator slowly up into consciousness.

And while I slept, I dreamed. It was rather interesting, so I thought I'd write about it. All of my dream books are packed, so I'm not really sure what it means, but thought it made for an interesting story nonetheless.

This is what I dreamed.

There was a beach. It wasn't a packed, sizzling summer beach, but more of the kind of beach that families would go to in the fall. The water looked cold, it was windy, and there were some tree branches reaching over the stretch of sand. I was watching myself walk on the beach.

There was a wooden family house near the beach. I think it was a house where my family was living (but not in real life). I know it had multiple stories to it and a kitchen, because I did one of those strange stunts that you seem to typically do in dreams... The whole "I know that there is a stair case, but it seems more logical that I should swing over the banister upstairs, catch onto the hood above the stove and slowly lower myself into the kitchen where 12 people are trying to cook" logic.

There was a bus - a yellow school bus - and my sister was with me on it. We were grown up and we were talking excitingly because were were supposedly going to go to a presentation at a large church, but I forget what the speech was supposed to be on. For some reason, we were excited to also go to Burger King either before or after (even though I am about as anti-fast food as you get). The bus stopped in between the church and a university and I lost Jen in the crowd. I switched from observing the dream to active participation (the kind that you just know is causing you to thrash around and whimper in real life, and you feel a bit ridiculous for it even in the dream). "Jen! Jen! Jen! JEN! JEN! I lost you!" Finally she came running up next to me. She had changed clothes and hidden her money.

There was an all white, rather sterile looking apartment building/hotel. I was in there with some of my current co-workers, but ones I don't really work with that often. We were arguing and fighting over how work should be divided and who should do what and generally all the typical battles. Then for whatever reason, the conversations all turned contentious and we were yelling at each other about who said what about whom, and it was too tiring for me to continue that conversation, so I left. I ran into a large man on my way out. I don't work with him, but I understood that he had just vacated his corporate apartment because he thought it was haunted or something. He thought I'd like to see it. So, I went, but I left him in the hall.

There was an open, airy, almost empty condo that you could walk from the front door in the building's hallway all the way back to the outside. I understood that this was the same place as that beach house from earlier in my dream. It was haunted, but I wasn't scared. I saw little transparent girls with dresses on running around and hiding in the closet. I walked through all the rooms until I reached the back. The man had left in a hurry and left some of his clothes folded up in the sun room. A blue plaid button down collared shirt was on top of the pile. A cleaning man came in and was surprised to see me there. I quickly walked out again.

There was an apartment in the upper floor of a building, and a man lived there with me who never spoke, but was always there. The room had yellow and wood colors. Once when I came home, he was in my garbage can eating flies. (And this is especially when I knew I was dreaming, because if I had flies in my garbage can, I'd throw the entire thing out - man and all). He got out of the garbage can when he saw me and stood next to the counter looking at the mail. I spoke to him and had the impression that this was the first time I had done that. I didn't ask him to leave, but I held open the door to see if he would. He didn't. So, I left again and locked the door behind me.

*If you are like me, you will be distracted through most of the rest of this post, because you will be wondering who called. Answer: I'm not sure, because I didn't answer and there wasn't a message (and we don't have caller ID on our home phone). So, with that resolved for the psychotically curious, I'll go on.


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