Here's another embarrassing one. Alert Readers may recall that I've had two or three dreams in which George Clooney shows up randomly and reveals himself to be a charming conversationalist and a good companion to kill a little bit of time with while waiting in public places (??). Unfortunately it turns out he has a darker side below the charm.
This encounter began with my needing to take one of our dogs to the vet. I had found a vet that was more conveniently located in relation to my house and work, and wanted to try it out (inexplicably, we were living in something resembling a poor-ish neighborhood of a third-world city). The building was a three-story concrete building, with parts of it in okay shape and other parts that either had never been completed or had been destroyed by some unidentifiable catastrophe. I was poking around trying to figure out where the vet office was located (not easy, despite a prominent sign on the roof indicating that it was somewhere in the building). At some point I realized that I had forgotten to bring the dog (??), but since I didn't have time to go back for him I decided to at least locate the place and see how it looked, and maybe try to ask a couple of questions.
In the midst of my pokings-around, I ran into George, who was sitting at a counter in a cafe/bar restaurant in the building, looking out a large glassless window onto the parking area (keep in mind that the whole atmosphere was one of picturesque third-world decay, almost post-apocalyptic). I decided to play it cool and ask him if he knew where the vet's office was (you know, treat him like a regular layperson). He was, as usual, charming and helpful, and gave me directions involving navigating the destroyed part of the building that looked "like Kosovo" (his words). He then invited me to sit down and eat something with him, an offer I accepted both because I was hungry and because who would refuse a lunch invitation from George Clooney? We had a pizza, which was quite good.
We got along famously over the pizza, although I don't remember the conversation. Nor do I remember how we got to his house, but the next thing I can remember we were in his house, which had a larger selection of chotchkes displayed than you'd expect. By this time I felt like I had known him for ages, and he was being very nice, in the manner of a guy that you're getting to know and fast moving toward relationship territory with (you know, very interested in what you have to say, doing all the right body-language things to appear interested but not creepy). I was enjoying myself very much, although I certainly wasn't thinking "I'm going to have an affair with George Clooney"; he was much too smooth to provoke thoughts like that.
This is where things started to go downhill fast. In an embarrassingly ham-handed bit of G-rated symbolism, my subconscious chose to indicate his wish to take things further by having a wrapped condom drop out of his pocket onto the floor (??!?). Of course I freaked out because I had just been basking in the warm glow of his charming company and apparent general regard for me. I backed away and started sputtering, at which he abruptly lost his temper completely. He started yelling that I had been leading him on, with the reasoning that I accepted his gift of lunch ("you took the first piece of pizza, too! You just jumped in there."), and that the logical implication of that was that I was agreeing implicitly to "pay" later. I was completely crushed--what I thought was a spontaneous meeting of minds (and, well, yes, I did find him charming) was actually, in his mind, a way to get some action. I was crying by this time (loud wails and hiccups, the whole spectacle) and said, "but I'm MARRied", which I figured would surely appeal to both his reason and what gentlemanly side he did have (although I was beginning to realize I had seriously overestimated his gentlemanly side).
As I was wailing and he was berating, a young brunette slipped out of a bedroom and left the house, obviously having been there all night. Of course that didn't help things either. I beat a retreat, having completely changed my assessment of Mr. Clooney.
But that wasn't the end, oddly. A short time after I got home, someone delivered a medium-sized box, from George. I opened it and found a wild assortment of things, heavy on the books but with other things like event tickets, information on the stock market, etc. As I started to look through it, I realized that this was George's identity encapsulated in a box, and that he had somehow, drawing on his celebrity status as bosser-around of assistants and obtainer-of-favors, to assemble all this in that short amount of time (there were documents that would have had to be obtained from businesses and agencies, for example). Despite my resolve to have nothing more to do with the nefarious George, I began to soften as I realized what an effort he had made to be understood and explain himself.
What an odd and embarrassing dream. Once again, I promise I am not obsessed with Mr. Clooney. The only times I think about him are when confronted with a bit of celebrity gossip and when I have these random dreams in which he shows up. I have to say, though, I'm curious whether his Jekyll or Hyde side will show up in the next one (I doubt I've seen the last of him).
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
unsettlingly realistic
All I can remember of last night's dream is an unpleasant episode at work that was disturbingly realistic. I've probably mentioned before that in real life I have a coworker who, while meaning well, comes off as pushy. In the dream I was trying to do some task that was going to require a document that was probably somewhere in one of two wire inboxes on my desk. Just as I was poised to start looking through them to find the document, this coworker (who was not specifically involved in this part of the task) came up to my desk and started flipping through the inbox contents to find the document first. With no warning (even to myself), I exploded. I picked up the tray, brandished it while yelling at her to back off and get her hands off my stuff, then flung down the tray hard on the desk. For good measure, I heaved the other tray onto the floor beside my desk (it should be noted that none of this physical outburst involved people, just the two inboxes).
She seemed taken aback (and rightly so, I'm sure), and I was immediately embarrassed at my loss of control. Although I was still annoyed with her, I realized that I had just come off looking bad, since she had been well-meaning in her interference. To make things worse, she started talking about how she was "just trying to help", and how another coworker and I were "always whispering together and gossiping". I tried to tell her that 1) I couldn't help it if this other coworker came up and started a conversation with me at my desk; and 2) we weren't "gossiping", just talking about random things of no import.
Ugh. Very unpleasant. I can't deny that I have some pent-up real-life annoyance about similar issues, but I certainly hope the outbursts stay confined to my dream life.
She seemed taken aback (and rightly so, I'm sure), and I was immediately embarrassed at my loss of control. Although I was still annoyed with her, I realized that I had just come off looking bad, since she had been well-meaning in her interference. To make things worse, she started talking about how she was "just trying to help", and how another coworker and I were "always whispering together and gossiping". I tried to tell her that 1) I couldn't help it if this other coworker came up and started a conversation with me at my desk; and 2) we weren't "gossiping", just talking about random things of no import.
Ugh. Very unpleasant. I can't deny that I have some pent-up real-life annoyance about similar issues, but I certainly hope the outbursts stay confined to my dream life.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
ugh and ugh
I've had several unpleasant dreams lately. Here are a couple (breaking them up so as not to overload the tag limit).
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was on yet another group trip, this time to Hong Kong, with a group made up largely of young and youngish Asian women. We had just arrived, and our first stop was a large park on the top of hill so high it might better be called a mountain. There was a spectacular view, and the mountain/hill itself was covered with green vegetation. The park was very touristy, with a gigantic parking lot, a bus station (we came by bus), and lots of touristy amenities.
Instead of confining ourselves to gawking at the scenery, we were supposed to doing a craft activity. It was one of those very specific, structured projects with little room for individual variation (I think some kind of paper folding was involved). I had been vigorously reproached by the tour guide for my clumsy American lack of politesse, grace, and social nicety, and I was trying desperately to prove my worthiness by perfectly executing the craft project. This backfired on me, though, since as a result of my care I took too long and was still working on it when the rest of the group had finished. Of course the guide was unhappy about my slowness.
After the craft fiasco, we all went to a restaurant to eat lunch. Because I had been so focused on my project, I hadn't changed my money at the nearby exchange kiosk like everyone else had, so I had no Chinese money. Since the whole place was so extremely touristy, I was clinging to the hope that they might accept payment in dollars. On entering the restaurant, which was cafeteria style, I realized that wouldn't be an option, but the extremely nice girl in front of me in line offered to pay and I could pay her back later.
So all seemed to be going reasonably well, until I tripped with my plate of food and spilled it all over. I was confused at this unexpected catastrophe, and went to get a refill. I was so shaken by my showy accident (food went all over) that I didn't stop to think that they would want payment for my replacement food. I guess I consumed it, because the next thing I remember was a confrontation with a cleaver-wielding chef who demanded payment (and not in dollars). He insinuated that I would be pursued by gangsters if I didn't pay up.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In another unpleasant dream, I was working as a secretary in a large and somewhat weird building. My boss was the woman who in real life is the boss for the business occupying the first two floors of my real-life office building. We all have the impression that she's much stricter than her predecessor, although that's not based on a lot of data.
I was working away, although my job (like my actual, real-life job) didn't require a whole lot. I wasn't actively loafing, so I had no reason to be on the lookout for a scolding of any kind, but the boss came looking for me, extremely angry. She started ranting and raving about how I couldn't "control the infrastructure". I finally realized that she was referring to some cars that were parked illegally downstairs, one in an actual space and a couple in a grassy area next to a sidewalk. None of these cars were in places where I could have seen them from any of the windows--I would have to have been outside, and thus not inside doing my job. I tried to tell her this, but there was no reasoning with her, and she insinuated that I might lose my job over not having called a tow truck*.
*In my real-life job we have limited parking space, and it falls to me to call the tow truck, which I must admit I sometimes do with relish if the car is expensive and parked directly in front of the very visible "no parking" sign. There has been some hinting on the part of a coworker that I'm mean for calling the tow truck (I actually have only called a very few times, and never for very battered, run-down cars that, to my mind, indicate someone operating on less than a full share of resources); other people are perhaps more strict than me regarding cars that don't belong there, so I feel like I'll be seen as not doing my job if I don't deal with it when a car is parked in one of our spots. Apparently this car-towing thing causes me angst than I might have thought.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I was on yet another group trip, this time to Hong Kong, with a group made up largely of young and youngish Asian women. We had just arrived, and our first stop was a large park on the top of hill so high it might better be called a mountain. There was a spectacular view, and the mountain/hill itself was covered with green vegetation. The park was very touristy, with a gigantic parking lot, a bus station (we came by bus), and lots of touristy amenities.
Instead of confining ourselves to gawking at the scenery, we were supposed to doing a craft activity. It was one of those very specific, structured projects with little room for individual variation (I think some kind of paper folding was involved). I had been vigorously reproached by the tour guide for my clumsy American lack of politesse, grace, and social nicety, and I was trying desperately to prove my worthiness by perfectly executing the craft project. This backfired on me, though, since as a result of my care I took too long and was still working on it when the rest of the group had finished. Of course the guide was unhappy about my slowness.
After the craft fiasco, we all went to a restaurant to eat lunch. Because I had been so focused on my project, I hadn't changed my money at the nearby exchange kiosk like everyone else had, so I had no Chinese money. Since the whole place was so extremely touristy, I was clinging to the hope that they might accept payment in dollars. On entering the restaurant, which was cafeteria style, I realized that wouldn't be an option, but the extremely nice girl in front of me in line offered to pay and I could pay her back later.
So all seemed to be going reasonably well, until I tripped with my plate of food and spilled it all over. I was confused at this unexpected catastrophe, and went to get a refill. I was so shaken by my showy accident (food went all over) that I didn't stop to think that they would want payment for my replacement food. I guess I consumed it, because the next thing I remember was a confrontation with a cleaver-wielding chef who demanded payment (and not in dollars). He insinuated that I would be pursued by gangsters if I didn't pay up.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
In another unpleasant dream, I was working as a secretary in a large and somewhat weird building. My boss was the woman who in real life is the boss for the business occupying the first two floors of my real-life office building. We all have the impression that she's much stricter than her predecessor, although that's not based on a lot of data.
I was working away, although my job (like my actual, real-life job) didn't require a whole lot. I wasn't actively loafing, so I had no reason to be on the lookout for a scolding of any kind, but the boss came looking for me, extremely angry. She started ranting and raving about how I couldn't "control the infrastructure". I finally realized that she was referring to some cars that were parked illegally downstairs, one in an actual space and a couple in a grassy area next to a sidewalk. None of these cars were in places where I could have seen them from any of the windows--I would have to have been outside, and thus not inside doing my job. I tried to tell her this, but there was no reasoning with her, and she insinuated that I might lose my job over not having called a tow truck*.
*In my real-life job we have limited parking space, and it falls to me to call the tow truck, which I must admit I sometimes do with relish if the car is expensive and parked directly in front of the very visible "no parking" sign. There has been some hinting on the part of a coworker that I'm mean for calling the tow truck (I actually have only called a very few times, and never for very battered, run-down cars that, to my mind, indicate someone operating on less than a full share of resources); other people are perhaps more strict than me regarding cars that don't belong there, so I feel like I'll be seen as not doing my job if I don't deal with it when a car is parked in one of our spots. Apparently this car-towing thing causes me angst than I might have thought.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
group trips, and my subconscious attempts to hammer some sense into me
First of all, I had a very stereotypical group-trip dream last night. It was actually a bus tour (of where, I don't know). About 20% of the group were Chinese, and my seatmate was a Chinese girl. It was a pretty structured thing, with the tour guide telling us when to get off the bus, how much time we'd have, when to take pictures, etc. I really have no idea why I keep having these dreams--I haven't been on a group trip in years.
The other dream requires a little real-life background. I have a co-worker that I have a little bit of a personality conflict with. The only really objective problem I have with her is that she's kind of pushy/very sure of her opinions, and very quick to jump in and do things that are other people's jobs (for example, my job involves answering the phone, but she has a habit of picking it up micro-seconds after it's rung if she has the impression that I'm not at my desk [her impression is often wrong, and I'm actually at my desk, or close enough]--this is something that's persisted despite my politely requesting her not to do this). Anyway, thanks to the big difference between her personality and mine, and thanks to a tendency to paranoia and neurosis on my part, I've developed the idea that she disapproves of me and would like to be able to complain about me but feels she can't for one reason or another (certain things she does or says come across to me as veiled criticisms, even if they're not intended that way).
So that's the real-life background. In the dream, which was very realistic, I was at work. I was up doing something, and came back to find a sheet of paper on my desk. The paper had several receipts copied on it, with some specifications and instructions written on afterward by her. On looking at it briefly, I thought it was dealing with something that she wouldn't ordinarily have needed to be involved in; it looked to me like she was jumping in and assembling things because she felt like I hadn't taken care of it fast enough, and this was her way of shaming me for not being quick-quick-quick.
I was pretty angry, thanks to all that bottled-up resentment. I took it to a couple of other coworkers and waved it around, ranting about how passive-aggressive this was on her part (she wasn't around at this point). One of the other coworkers looked at it closer and pointed out that it was just some receipts she was submitting for reimbursement--so it wasn't something I had known about, or something that anyone could have possibly expected me to deal with yet. I was a bit deflated, but relieved that it wasn't actually a case of passive-aggressive criticism. Of course it was a little embarrassing to have ranted about it, but there was some solace in realizing that maybe I'd been too paranoid all along, and that it was possible that she wasn't constantly wishing for an opportunity to express just how awful (lazy, incompetent, backward) she thought I was.
I don't really know whether to be happy at this evidence that my subconscious is more sensible than my conscious, waking self, or to be annoyed at it for having this "I told you so" dream.
The other dream requires a little real-life background. I have a co-worker that I have a little bit of a personality conflict with. The only really objective problem I have with her is that she's kind of pushy/very sure of her opinions, and very quick to jump in and do things that are other people's jobs (for example, my job involves answering the phone, but she has a habit of picking it up micro-seconds after it's rung if she has the impression that I'm not at my desk [her impression is often wrong, and I'm actually at my desk, or close enough]--this is something that's persisted despite my politely requesting her not to do this). Anyway, thanks to the big difference between her personality and mine, and thanks to a tendency to paranoia and neurosis on my part, I've developed the idea that she disapproves of me and would like to be able to complain about me but feels she can't for one reason or another (certain things she does or says come across to me as veiled criticisms, even if they're not intended that way).
So that's the real-life background. In the dream, which was very realistic, I was at work. I was up doing something, and came back to find a sheet of paper on my desk. The paper had several receipts copied on it, with some specifications and instructions written on afterward by her. On looking at it briefly, I thought it was dealing with something that she wouldn't ordinarily have needed to be involved in; it looked to me like she was jumping in and assembling things because she felt like I hadn't taken care of it fast enough, and this was her way of shaming me for not being quick-quick-quick.
I was pretty angry, thanks to all that bottled-up resentment. I took it to a couple of other coworkers and waved it around, ranting about how passive-aggressive this was on her part (she wasn't around at this point). One of the other coworkers looked at it closer and pointed out that it was just some receipts she was submitting for reimbursement--so it wasn't something I had known about, or something that anyone could have possibly expected me to deal with yet. I was a bit deflated, but relieved that it wasn't actually a case of passive-aggressive criticism. Of course it was a little embarrassing to have ranted about it, but there was some solace in realizing that maybe I'd been too paranoid all along, and that it was possible that she wasn't constantly wishing for an opportunity to express just how awful (lazy, incompetent, backward) she thought I was.
I don't really know whether to be happy at this evidence that my subconscious is more sensible than my conscious, waking self, or to be annoyed at it for having this "I told you so" dream.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
the zombie horde
I had a series of weird dreams this morning in between repeated snooze-button punchings. In the first, I had been obliged to attend a high school reunion and was not happy about being there. In hopes of avoiding being seen and having to fill people in on my current news, I escaped to the library (not my actual high-school library but a dream library). The rows of shelves were very low, about shoulder height, which dismayed me since I couldn't conceal myself without hunching over.
I was still vainly hoping that I was somewhat hidden when I noticed that a group of older people had come in. I'm not sure what they were doing there, but they had some connection with the reunion or with some other event that was going on. I sensed that they were trying to get away from the action and into a quiet spot. However, lined up evenly spaced between the rows of shelves, they just looked alarming. They all had salt-and-pepper hair in exactly the same shade, were all about the same height and weight (short-to-medium height and skinny), and they all moved very slowly and had vacant looks.
I shouted, to no one in particular, "look, it's the zombie horde!" In real life, of course, this would be extremely rude and not funny at all, but in the dream it was absolutely hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing and congratulating myself on my wit. I was also relieved to have had a bit of comedy to take my mind off my undesirable situation.
I don't remember much of the other dream, except that the protagonist was a rather nondescript man in his mid to late 30s. He had somehow gotten himself employed as a telemarketer, calling up a narrowly defined target demographic (doctors or engineers, something like that) to try to interest them in some very specialized consulting service. Of course none of them were interested, which made him hate the job even more. He was sitting at his desk trying to assemble his lunch, which consisted of sliced turkey lunch meat, sliced cheese, and some kind of flat bread*, and having a meltdown. He was yelling at his boss about having to call these people who weren't interested, how that wasn't what he wanted to do, etc. etc. I really felt sorry for him, because I knew that he was highly educated and had gotten himself into this job by mistake and necessity.
*This was undoubtedly thanks to a recent viewing of the remake of The Prisoner, wherein the only food available was "wraps" (I recommend it, by the way--the program, not necessarily the wraps).
I was still vainly hoping that I was somewhat hidden when I noticed that a group of older people had come in. I'm not sure what they were doing there, but they had some connection with the reunion or with some other event that was going on. I sensed that they were trying to get away from the action and into a quiet spot. However, lined up evenly spaced between the rows of shelves, they just looked alarming. They all had salt-and-pepper hair in exactly the same shade, were all about the same height and weight (short-to-medium height and skinny), and they all moved very slowly and had vacant looks.
I shouted, to no one in particular, "look, it's the zombie horde!" In real life, of course, this would be extremely rude and not funny at all, but in the dream it was absolutely hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing and congratulating myself on my wit. I was also relieved to have had a bit of comedy to take my mind off my undesirable situation.
I don't remember much of the other dream, except that the protagonist was a rather nondescript man in his mid to late 30s. He had somehow gotten himself employed as a telemarketer, calling up a narrowly defined target demographic (doctors or engineers, something like that) to try to interest them in some very specialized consulting service. Of course none of them were interested, which made him hate the job even more. He was sitting at his desk trying to assemble his lunch, which consisted of sliced turkey lunch meat, sliced cheese, and some kind of flat bread*, and having a meltdown. He was yelling at his boss about having to call these people who weren't interested, how that wasn't what he wanted to do, etc. etc. I really felt sorry for him, because I knew that he was highly educated and had gotten himself into this job by mistake and necessity.
*This was undoubtedly thanks to a recent viewing of the remake of The Prisoner, wherein the only food available was "wraps" (I recommend it, by the way--the program, not necessarily the wraps).
Thursday, June 3, 2010
yuck.
It's been a really long time since I had a variation on this dream, but just before waking up this morning I dreamed that my husband was openly ogling someone right in front of me.
I don't know what the context was, but we were seated at a table somewhere, maybe at some kind of outdoor event. To my left was a Diane Kruger lookalike. In addition to being incredibly beautiful and completely flawless, she seemed to have a perfect personality (unlike grumpy, neurotic ol' me). I think I had made a little superficial conversation with her because she was just so nice that I couldn't be antisocial and ignore her.
After we had exchanged a couple of sentences, my husband leaned over from his position on my right and started brazenly ogling Ms. Kruger-lookalike. I'm not sure if he actually spoke directly to her, but he was clearly completely smitten and I had hopelessly lost the battle of comparisons. I don't remember if I objected verbally to his ogling or if he just saw that I was disturbed, but in response to my irritation he started in on a list of her virtues and my deficiencies.
Up to this point the dream followed the usual template, but whereas usually I just slink off and disappear to nurse my hurt feelings elsewhere, this time I practically exploded. I first ranted at him that he was being really rude to Ms. Kruger-lookalike by ogling her so brazenly. Then I may have added that I didn't cotton well to his ogling of her either--I'm not sure if I verbalized that. I do remember going into his flaws, although I don't remember what any of them were other than a failure to do the dishes. I think I went so far as to say that I wasn't sure I loved him anymore. The whole dream was extremely disturbing, and the aftertaste was pretty disturbing as well.
I don't know what the context was, but we were seated at a table somewhere, maybe at some kind of outdoor event. To my left was a Diane Kruger lookalike. In addition to being incredibly beautiful and completely flawless, she seemed to have a perfect personality (unlike grumpy, neurotic ol' me). I think I had made a little superficial conversation with her because she was just so nice that I couldn't be antisocial and ignore her.
After we had exchanged a couple of sentences, my husband leaned over from his position on my right and started brazenly ogling Ms. Kruger-lookalike. I'm not sure if he actually spoke directly to her, but he was clearly completely smitten and I had hopelessly lost the battle of comparisons. I don't remember if I objected verbally to his ogling or if he just saw that I was disturbed, but in response to my irritation he started in on a list of her virtues and my deficiencies.
Up to this point the dream followed the usual template, but whereas usually I just slink off and disappear to nurse my hurt feelings elsewhere, this time I practically exploded. I first ranted at him that he was being really rude to Ms. Kruger-lookalike by ogling her so brazenly. Then I may have added that I didn't cotton well to his ogling of her either--I'm not sure if I verbalized that. I do remember going into his flaws, although I don't remember what any of them were other than a failure to do the dishes. I think I went so far as to say that I wasn't sure I loved him anymore. The whole dream was extremely disturbing, and the aftertaste was pretty disturbing as well.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
in which i tire myself out both physically and mentally
I had a slightly alarming dream last night. I was getting ready to go buy a bunch of necessary materials and tools for a home improvement project, going over the list with my husband because I was going to be going by myself and wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything. I was a little nervous about driving the truck, since I had only driven it a couple of times before.
I guess I got the materials, because the next thing I can remember I was with some assorted family members in a very small cafe attached to the building supply store. It was sort of like an uglier version of an ikea cafe, and my dad had ordered a pizza. One of the employees brought it out, and it looked really good--kind of a white sauce, with chicken and maybe rosemary*.
The trouble began when someone jumped out of nowhere to intercept my dad's pizza. The person who initially grabbed the pizza was a 35-ish, redneck-ish man. I was furious, and immediately started slugging him (?!), knocked him on the ground, and kicked him (I was pretty effective, if I do say so myself). I was a little surprised and alarmed at the intensity of my anger; I guess I was getting out all my suppressed indignation about everything. I kept yelling "you can't do that! You can't take my dad's pizza! You didn't pay for it!" Between the kicking and the hitting, he ended up moaning on the floor, with blood running down his forehead.
I guess at that point I came to my senses and decided I had done sufficient justice, because I stopped and the person got up, morphing into a youngish female. I asked her why she had taken my dad's pizza and she said, rather pitifully, "I'm hungry". I immediately turned good samaritan and said, "well, let me get you something to eat". There was an immediate switch from "I'm so mad I could kill someone" to "this person needs to eat and I'm going to get them something" (with accompanied rush of charitable feeling).
She ordered something and I went to pay at the counter. I noticed that she had slipped in a package of condoms**, and was initially irritated that she had added something when I had only proposed a meal. Then I realized that she seemed to be the sort of person who had a lot of high-risk encounters, and probably did all kinds of drugs, and that it was a good thing she was getting them, so I didn't protest and just paid for the whole thing, acting like they weren't there. I had very uncomfortable mixed feelings of feeling good about being helpful, while simultaneously realizing that I was experiencing unwarranted feelings of moral superiority and a particularly annoying sort of Liberal Do-Goodism***.
*ironic, considering that my dad is vegan.
**once again, why does it have to be me introducing these labels?
***not that I'm against being liberal or doing good; I'm referring to that annoying "I'm doing this and this and this and this to save the world--what are you doing?" thing.
I guess I got the materials, because the next thing I can remember I was with some assorted family members in a very small cafe attached to the building supply store. It was sort of like an uglier version of an ikea cafe, and my dad had ordered a pizza. One of the employees brought it out, and it looked really good--kind of a white sauce, with chicken and maybe rosemary*.
The trouble began when someone jumped out of nowhere to intercept my dad's pizza. The person who initially grabbed the pizza was a 35-ish, redneck-ish man. I was furious, and immediately started slugging him (?!), knocked him on the ground, and kicked him (I was pretty effective, if I do say so myself). I was a little surprised and alarmed at the intensity of my anger; I guess I was getting out all my suppressed indignation about everything. I kept yelling "you can't do that! You can't take my dad's pizza! You didn't pay for it!" Between the kicking and the hitting, he ended up moaning on the floor, with blood running down his forehead.
I guess at that point I came to my senses and decided I had done sufficient justice, because I stopped and the person got up, morphing into a youngish female. I asked her why she had taken my dad's pizza and she said, rather pitifully, "I'm hungry". I immediately turned good samaritan and said, "well, let me get you something to eat". There was an immediate switch from "I'm so mad I could kill someone" to "this person needs to eat and I'm going to get them something" (with accompanied rush of charitable feeling).
She ordered something and I went to pay at the counter. I noticed that she had slipped in a package of condoms**, and was initially irritated that she had added something when I had only proposed a meal. Then I realized that she seemed to be the sort of person who had a lot of high-risk encounters, and probably did all kinds of drugs, and that it was a good thing she was getting them, so I didn't protest and just paid for the whole thing, acting like they weren't there. I had very uncomfortable mixed feelings of feeling good about being helpful, while simultaneously realizing that I was experiencing unwarranted feelings of moral superiority and a particularly annoying sort of Liberal Do-Goodism***.
*ironic, considering that my dad is vegan.
**once again, why does it have to be me introducing these labels?
***not that I'm against being liberal or doing good; I'm referring to that annoying "I'm doing this and this and this and this to save the world--what are you doing?" thing.
Friday, April 16, 2010
in which i caricature my real-life tastes and interests
This dream was really neat visually. It started with me on a visit to a Hindu "worship center". I refer to it as that because it was more than just a temple. It was a whole complex including a temple and some other community-outreach sort of areas (which I'll get into later).
I was in a small group, and we were there to visit the temple on what amounted to a guided tour. The lady in charge of the tour was one of the founders of the temple, and her thing was outreach to non-Hindus. She wasn't trying to convert outsiders, just to educate them on what Hinduism was all about and create positive impressions.
The temple itself was beautiful, a big open room with elaborate Indian decorations (I think the ceiling was highly decorated, and there may have been an upstairs balcony running along at least one side of the room). There were some people there engaged in some sort of worship, and although we didn't stay long and I didn't really understand what was going on I found it inspiring.
After the main room, we were led into a side room with a low ceiling. It was also highly decorated, and full of rows of raised tables with shallow tanks on top, almost like clear, shallow bathtubs on platforms. They were about half full of water, and all connected by a complicated network of piping. Most of the tubs had someone in them, lying flat, fully clothed, and completely, if barely, submerged by water that was running while staying at the same level (through the network of pipes, I suppose).
The tubs nearest us were occupied by very old Indian women, all motionless and with their eyes closed. They were apparently deep in some kind of advanced meditation in which one didn't have to breathe. There was another section on the other side of the room with somewhat younger Indian men, all bald. I found it very interesting, but then when I turned to the right I saw that there was a section full of deformed, premature babies. They had uneven, buggy eyes, large bulgy heads, and were kind of greenish and purplish. It was extremely, extremely unsettling. Apparently they had been taken in as orphans, but their prognosis couldn't have been too good.
After that I was with my mom, getting ready to go into a grocery store. I had a National Geographic, and I discovered that there was a whole article on knitting (across a spectrum of time and cultures, etc.). I was really fascinated, and so slow getting out of the car that when I finally tore myself away and went in the store my mother was already checking out. I looked in her cart and saw that there were only a couple of bags of vegetables and a few more miscellaneous things--not the whole week's worth of food that we needed. I got really angry and started yelling at her about how I thought that for once she could be responsible and buy the week's groceries because I had been doing it ALL THE TIME, and why should I have to do everything just because she found it easier to let me*. She just shrugged and pointed out that I could have come in earlier and gotten more things instead of staying in the car with the National Geographic.
****************************************
Another night I had a tidbit that fits in with the multicultural theme. I was in a library somewhere and found a very small softcover, staple-bound book. It had been self-published by an Ethiopian lady, and looked at first like it was a cookbook. I wasn't sure if it was handwritten or if it was just a unique font, but I absolutely loved the writing and was determined to find a place to buy my own copy of it.
On looking more at it, I discovered that it contained not only recipes (I like Ethiopian food in real life), but very cute line drawings and somewhat 1950s tips on how to manage a home while remaining glamorous and interesting. There was one little drawing of the author involving her two small children in cutting up carrots. The caption pointed out that involving small children in household tasks like cooking would keep them entertained and teach them, make them less picky in their eating habits, etc. etc. The whole aura was very idyllic, and the author photograph showed a very beautiful, flawless, serene-looking Ethiopian woman. The book was in English and Amharic, although of course the writing in the dream didn't look anything at all like Amharic does in real life. I was intrigued to see that there were a lot of "x"-like characters, and remarked that some characters showed up a lot in some languages while being rare in others (??). Anyway, I was completely obsessed with the book and its author, and determined to find it to buy and become perfect, well-groomed, immaculate, interesting, glamorous, etc.
*I have this dream every so often where I'm living with my parents (and sometimes sister and/or husband) and filling this Cinderella role where I do ALL the housework. Then I blow up and start yelling at everyone while they look on bemused and unconvinced.
I was in a small group, and we were there to visit the temple on what amounted to a guided tour. The lady in charge of the tour was one of the founders of the temple, and her thing was outreach to non-Hindus. She wasn't trying to convert outsiders, just to educate them on what Hinduism was all about and create positive impressions.
The temple itself was beautiful, a big open room with elaborate Indian decorations (I think the ceiling was highly decorated, and there may have been an upstairs balcony running along at least one side of the room). There were some people there engaged in some sort of worship, and although we didn't stay long and I didn't really understand what was going on I found it inspiring.
After the main room, we were led into a side room with a low ceiling. It was also highly decorated, and full of rows of raised tables with shallow tanks on top, almost like clear, shallow bathtubs on platforms. They were about half full of water, and all connected by a complicated network of piping. Most of the tubs had someone in them, lying flat, fully clothed, and completely, if barely, submerged by water that was running while staying at the same level (through the network of pipes, I suppose).
The tubs nearest us were occupied by very old Indian women, all motionless and with their eyes closed. They were apparently deep in some kind of advanced meditation in which one didn't have to breathe. There was another section on the other side of the room with somewhat younger Indian men, all bald. I found it very interesting, but then when I turned to the right I saw that there was a section full of deformed, premature babies. They had uneven, buggy eyes, large bulgy heads, and were kind of greenish and purplish. It was extremely, extremely unsettling. Apparently they had been taken in as orphans, but their prognosis couldn't have been too good.
After that I was with my mom, getting ready to go into a grocery store. I had a National Geographic, and I discovered that there was a whole article on knitting (across a spectrum of time and cultures, etc.). I was really fascinated, and so slow getting out of the car that when I finally tore myself away and went in the store my mother was already checking out. I looked in her cart and saw that there were only a couple of bags of vegetables and a few more miscellaneous things--not the whole week's worth of food that we needed. I got really angry and started yelling at her about how I thought that for once she could be responsible and buy the week's groceries because I had been doing it ALL THE TIME, and why should I have to do everything just because she found it easier to let me*. She just shrugged and pointed out that I could have come in earlier and gotten more things instead of staying in the car with the National Geographic.
****************************************
Another night I had a tidbit that fits in with the multicultural theme. I was in a library somewhere and found a very small softcover, staple-bound book. It had been self-published by an Ethiopian lady, and looked at first like it was a cookbook. I wasn't sure if it was handwritten or if it was just a unique font, but I absolutely loved the writing and was determined to find a place to buy my own copy of it.
On looking more at it, I discovered that it contained not only recipes (I like Ethiopian food in real life), but very cute line drawings and somewhat 1950s tips on how to manage a home while remaining glamorous and interesting. There was one little drawing of the author involving her two small children in cutting up carrots. The caption pointed out that involving small children in household tasks like cooking would keep them entertained and teach them, make them less picky in their eating habits, etc. etc. The whole aura was very idyllic, and the author photograph showed a very beautiful, flawless, serene-looking Ethiopian woman. The book was in English and Amharic, although of course the writing in the dream didn't look anything at all like Amharic does in real life. I was intrigued to see that there were a lot of "x"-like characters, and remarked that some characters showed up a lot in some languages while being rare in others (??). Anyway, I was completely obsessed with the book and its author, and determined to find it to buy and become perfect, well-groomed, immaculate, interesting, glamorous, etc.
*I have this dream every so often where I'm living with my parents (and sometimes sister and/or husband) and filling this Cinderella role where I do ALL the housework. Then I blow up and start yelling at everyone while they look on bemused and unconvinced.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
ugh
I seem to either be only having unpleasant dreams lately or only remembering the unpleasant parts. Last night I dreamed that I was driving somewhere on an important work-related errand. I was coming up to a place where the two lanes merged, with concrete barriers on each side, and I was behind one of those large Old People cars, driven by a man in his late 60s or early 70s, accompanied by his wife and a somewhat younger woman. I was in a hurry and supposing that they were driving at around the speed limit, but it turned out that they were going about 10 mph. As I approached the spot where the lane ended, I realized that my speed/distance calculations had been way off. They were going so slow that I slid into both their car (on the left) and the concrete wall (on the right). It was a terrible, slow-motion, sinking feeling.
Of course we all got out of the cars, and the guy was furious. He was yelling and going on and on about what an awful person I was, what a reckless, selfish driver, etc., and he of course went on to some blanket indictments of almost all drivers (apparently everyone who dared hope to drive over 10 mph). Of course I felt both terrible and stupid about the accident, but got more irritated as he kept on railing. His wife seemed to share his opinion, although she didn't really vocalize, but the younger woman (sister-in-law was my impression) was more sympathetic.
I don't know how the whole thing played out, but somehow the whole driver's side door had come off of my car. I was also stressed about not getting whatever the work-related task was done, stressed about some wardrobe-related issue (I think I had been intending to make a critical outfit change while running the errand). To top things off, as the guy was yelling and waving his arms I realized that I had recently [in the dream] rear-ended someone. The whole thing was extremely unpleasant and insecurity-inducing.
Then, while mulling that over this morning, I remembered an unpleasant dream from last week. I don't remember what was going on, but I was in some social setting when I suddenly realized that my neck was covered with 1/2-inch to 1-inch hair! It was light blond, but that didn't help much. I was mortified, wondering how long I had been hairy-necked without noticing, and mortified when I realized that I was out in public with no good way of getting rid of the hair.
Of course we all got out of the cars, and the guy was furious. He was yelling and going on and on about what an awful person I was, what a reckless, selfish driver, etc., and he of course went on to some blanket indictments of almost all drivers (apparently everyone who dared hope to drive over 10 mph). Of course I felt both terrible and stupid about the accident, but got more irritated as he kept on railing. His wife seemed to share his opinion, although she didn't really vocalize, but the younger woman (sister-in-law was my impression) was more sympathetic.
I don't know how the whole thing played out, but somehow the whole driver's side door had come off of my car. I was also stressed about not getting whatever the work-related task was done, stressed about some wardrobe-related issue (I think I had been intending to make a critical outfit change while running the errand). To top things off, as the guy was yelling and waving his arms I realized that I had recently [in the dream] rear-ended someone. The whole thing was extremely unpleasant and insecurity-inducing.
Then, while mulling that over this morning, I remembered an unpleasant dream from last week. I don't remember what was going on, but I was in some social setting when I suddenly realized that my neck was covered with 1/2-inch to 1-inch hair! It was light blond, but that didn't help much. I was mortified, wondering how long I had been hairy-necked without noticing, and mortified when I realized that I was out in public with no good way of getting rid of the hair.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Parental Stress
I had a really harrowing dream last night that made me feel exhausted upon waking. This dream is RIFE with Freudian issues, so beware!
I dreamed that my boyfriend and I were going on a Romantic Getaway to the same place near Seattle where a friend of mine got married last summer (in real life, which I attended). It was (is) a really neat bed and breakfast on an island overlooking the water and I was really looking forward to this weekend, especially since somewhere buried in the dream was the knowledge (suspicion??) that my boyfriend was either going to propose or we were actually going to get married (?!).
We had to take a bus to the B n' B, and the grizzled driver dropped us off in front of the building, complaining that he had to drive all the way back to the ferry and then to the mainland. We tried to give him directions, but he just kept complaining.
As we walked up toward the inn, I saw a person getting out a car in the parking lot and as we drew closer, I realized it was my mother. I was so angry that she had somehow figured out where we were going, and went so far as to track us down. I swallowed my anger, though, and we decided to try to have a nice weekend, even when several other family members showed up.
My mom ended up taking over the whole show, organizing outings, dominating conversations (quite unlike her in real life, btw). I was just seething that she'd ruined my romantic weekend, and presumably my chances at having The Talk with my boyfriend.
There was a lot of confusion about bathrooms, like who was showering when. Apparently there was only one shower, which was just a little enclosure in the center of the house. I also ended up sleeping in the strange alcove that was reached by climbing a ladder. It was just a sort of narrow shelf in the wall near the ceiling, and I was using it as a refuge from my mom.
Eventually, during a meal, I ended up losing my temper with my mom, though I'm not sure what event precipitated the actual loss of temper. I ended up screaming and crying at her in the dining room with a roomful of people, with my sister and boyfriend trying to calm me, or at least remove me from the room. I kept screaming something like, "Goddamn it, just stop it!!! Just stop it!!! Everyone gets your point, goddamn it!!!"
That's when I woke up, and it took me awhile to get back to sleep. Eek!
I dreamed that my boyfriend and I were going on a Romantic Getaway to the same place near Seattle where a friend of mine got married last summer (in real life, which I attended). It was (is) a really neat bed and breakfast on an island overlooking the water and I was really looking forward to this weekend, especially since somewhere buried in the dream was the knowledge (suspicion??) that my boyfriend was either going to propose or we were actually going to get married (?!).
We had to take a bus to the B n' B, and the grizzled driver dropped us off in front of the building, complaining that he had to drive all the way back to the ferry and then to the mainland. We tried to give him directions, but he just kept complaining.
As we walked up toward the inn, I saw a person getting out a car in the parking lot and as we drew closer, I realized it was my mother. I was so angry that she had somehow figured out where we were going, and went so far as to track us down. I swallowed my anger, though, and we decided to try to have a nice weekend, even when several other family members showed up.
My mom ended up taking over the whole show, organizing outings, dominating conversations (quite unlike her in real life, btw). I was just seething that she'd ruined my romantic weekend, and presumably my chances at having The Talk with my boyfriend.
There was a lot of confusion about bathrooms, like who was showering when. Apparently there was only one shower, which was just a little enclosure in the center of the house. I also ended up sleeping in the strange alcove that was reached by climbing a ladder. It was just a sort of narrow shelf in the wall near the ceiling, and I was using it as a refuge from my mom.
Eventually, during a meal, I ended up losing my temper with my mom, though I'm not sure what event precipitated the actual loss of temper. I ended up screaming and crying at her in the dining room with a roomful of people, with my sister and boyfriend trying to calm me, or at least remove me from the room. I kept screaming something like, "Goddamn it, just stop it!!! Just stop it!!! Everyone gets your point, goddamn it!!!"
That's when I woke up, and it took me awhile to get back to sleep. Eek!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
More crying
I had a night full of nightmares last night. One involved someone following me through what was ostensibly my building at work, but was much larger and more echoey. I was walking as fast as I could without appearing to walk fast, but he just kept gaining on me. I hurried to open my locker (we have to leave our stuff in lockers at work) and as I was closing it, he was behind me. I just hissed "get away," and ran out the doors onto the steps, which were much longer than my real workplace. More like the US Capitol building. I was running down the stairs, hoping I wouldn't trip, but he was behind me.
The other nightmare was more definable. At one point, I was working in a store when guy came up asking for help. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned over to ask me. He told me he was Canadian, so I made some kind of inane joke, all while noticing that his fingers were blunt appendages with pale skin and a light coating of fur.
Later, I was sneaking into a movie late and there was some confrontation over the placement of my head. Apparently I was being difficult and placed my head directly in front of a woman's view. Every time she tried to move, I also moved. I didn't think I was being difficult.
Eventually, I ended up back at my apartment, where my boyfriend was frantically writing in the office (as he's been doing for the last week, working to a deadline). He was clearly angry with me, but I didn't know why. I noticed that the office was totally empty except for his desk, chair, and computer. The walls were bare, the rug was gone, and all of my stuff was missing. I was afraid to ask him about my stuff, but I was worried about it.
He snapped that he needed to reduce the distractions, so he threw away all of my stuff. He also managed to convey that I had done something really stupid and he was very angry at me. I couldn't understand what I'd done. I tried to ask him, but he just said he had to get his work done.
I went out into the hallway, but I didn't know what to do. I was very upset and was starting to cry. I kind of wanted him to hear me crying, so maybe he'd feel sorry about being angry with me. He came out of the office and started shouting at me that I was just pretending to cry, and that I was being distracting. This naturally made me cry harder, and I woke myself up by sobbing out loud.
My sweet boyfriend, who has never done anything like his dream self, was understandably freaked out.
The other nightmare was more definable. At one point, I was working in a store when guy came up asking for help. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned over to ask me. He told me he was Canadian, so I made some kind of inane joke, all while noticing that his fingers were blunt appendages with pale skin and a light coating of fur.
Later, I was sneaking into a movie late and there was some confrontation over the placement of my head. Apparently I was being difficult and placed my head directly in front of a woman's view. Every time she tried to move, I also moved. I didn't think I was being difficult.
Eventually, I ended up back at my apartment, where my boyfriend was frantically writing in the office (as he's been doing for the last week, working to a deadline). He was clearly angry with me, but I didn't know why. I noticed that the office was totally empty except for his desk, chair, and computer. The walls were bare, the rug was gone, and all of my stuff was missing. I was afraid to ask him about my stuff, but I was worried about it.
He snapped that he needed to reduce the distractions, so he threw away all of my stuff. He also managed to convey that I had done something really stupid and he was very angry at me. I couldn't understand what I'd done. I tried to ask him, but he just said he had to get his work done.
I went out into the hallway, but I didn't know what to do. I was very upset and was starting to cry. I kind of wanted him to hear me crying, so maybe he'd feel sorry about being angry with me. He came out of the office and started shouting at me that I was just pretending to cry, and that I was being distracting. This naturally made me cry harder, and I woke myself up by sobbing out loud.
My sweet boyfriend, who has never done anything like his dream self, was understandably freaked out.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
cinderella strikes again
I find it a little embarrassing to admit to my recurring dream themes, but I had another one this morning in which I was the household Cinderella. Anyway, I was living with my parents, and my sister was there, although I think she was more of a long-term visitor than a full-time household member. I think my husband also lived there, but he was absent for some legitimate reason--I think he may have been working extremely long hours at a demanding job, or maybe he was on a trip.
What I can remember started with me coming to the realization that for quite some time I had been doing everything for all the other members of the household. My wrath was directed primarily at my mother, and I started yelling at her: "Don't you think it's grotesque?! I cook EVERY MEAL, I clean up the dishes, I do the laundry, I clean the house--how can you live with yourself?!" I was really steamed up. When I realized how mad I was, I started to analyze how I felt about each member of the household. My dad was more or less exempt from my anger because he was working outside all day on some building project; my grandmother was exempt because she's 89 years old; my husband was exempt because he was always working and never there. I was a little mad at my sister, but she was somewhat exempt because of her guest status--and anyway, she was staying well away and completely ignoring the discussion, puttering around with a stack of art supplies in the corner. My mom refused to acknowledge my tirade in any real way, which made me even more mad.
I should add that the house we were living in was interesting, some kind of 60s-70s split-level thing with a main living area in a sunny half-basement, where the kitchen was. There were quite a lot of tchotchkes to be dealt with in cleaning, too, including macrame plant hangers.
After the outburst I went off in a huff and was rather proud of myself for taking a firm stand and not feeling guilty about it. I felt like I had made a psychological breakthrough. Then I started to think about the fact that my mother was busy taking care of my grandma, and I wondered if maybe I hadn't been a tiny bit hard on her.
That semi-guilty feeling morphed into some sort of depression whose cause I can't remember. I was still in the same house, with my sister and a friend of hers (random dream person). The friend was visiting and they were going to go to some social function scarily reminiscent of a church-high-school "banquet". The friend had showed us a very expensive couture gown that she was planning on wearing. Although I was depressed, I realized that I should make an effort at sociability, so I said, "that sure is a snazzy dress!"
Shortly thereafter I escaped into a bathroom with a laptop computer. I thought I'd distract myself by looking at ravelry (knitting website, for the uninitiated). I started reading a non-knitting-related forum there, and the avatar of one of the posters drew my attention. Instead of being just a photo, it was a video, showing several women frolicking around at an outdoor house party. There was some kind of "party"/dance music, and some of the women were dancing to it on a trampoline while others were dancing around a pool or jumping into the pool (this was more of an interpretational modern dance than a generic party dance). Someone in the discussion said that they wished they were attending the party, and I kind of agreed, which was a little out of character for me since I'm not much of a party person. The setting was certainly attractive, though, a stone house with nice landscaping looking like it should be in Provence.
I guess I clicked on her avatar or something, because suddenly it filled the whole screen. The view was now inside the house, though, and the women were in really elaborate and colorful eastern European costumes, with equally elaborate hairstyles (the one I can remember was a halo of tiny buns all around her head, supplemented with some kind of flowery decoration). They looked like they were warming up when an announcer came on and announced, in French, that they were such-and-such gypsy group and they were going to be doing a show; he also made it clear somehow that this was in Quebec.
The show started when some very animated gypsy music came on. The most interesting thing was that when they moved, their costumes moved with them. The dancer most visible had a couple of huge chrysanthemum-like flowers on the front of her dress, and they opened and closed and revealed different layers of petals, each with its own color and shape, kind of like a kaleidoscope. I thought vaguely that instead of dwelling on the injustices of my Cinderella-hood, maybe I should have just distracted myself with this first instead, because I suddenly felt a lot better.
What I can remember started with me coming to the realization that for quite some time I had been doing everything for all the other members of the household. My wrath was directed primarily at my mother, and I started yelling at her: "Don't you think it's grotesque?! I cook EVERY MEAL, I clean up the dishes, I do the laundry, I clean the house--how can you live with yourself?!" I was really steamed up. When I realized how mad I was, I started to analyze how I felt about each member of the household. My dad was more or less exempt from my anger because he was working outside all day on some building project; my grandmother was exempt because she's 89 years old; my husband was exempt because he was always working and never there. I was a little mad at my sister, but she was somewhat exempt because of her guest status--and anyway, she was staying well away and completely ignoring the discussion, puttering around with a stack of art supplies in the corner. My mom refused to acknowledge my tirade in any real way, which made me even more mad.
I should add that the house we were living in was interesting, some kind of 60s-70s split-level thing with a main living area in a sunny half-basement, where the kitchen was. There were quite a lot of tchotchkes to be dealt with in cleaning, too, including macrame plant hangers.
After the outburst I went off in a huff and was rather proud of myself for taking a firm stand and not feeling guilty about it. I felt like I had made a psychological breakthrough. Then I started to think about the fact that my mother was busy taking care of my grandma, and I wondered if maybe I hadn't been a tiny bit hard on her.
That semi-guilty feeling morphed into some sort of depression whose cause I can't remember. I was still in the same house, with my sister and a friend of hers (random dream person). The friend was visiting and they were going to go to some social function scarily reminiscent of a church-high-school "banquet". The friend had showed us a very expensive couture gown that she was planning on wearing. Although I was depressed, I realized that I should make an effort at sociability, so I said, "that sure is a snazzy dress!"
Shortly thereafter I escaped into a bathroom with a laptop computer. I thought I'd distract myself by looking at ravelry (knitting website, for the uninitiated). I started reading a non-knitting-related forum there, and the avatar of one of the posters drew my attention. Instead of being just a photo, it was a video, showing several women frolicking around at an outdoor house party. There was some kind of "party"/dance music, and some of the women were dancing to it on a trampoline while others were dancing around a pool or jumping into the pool (this was more of an interpretational modern dance than a generic party dance). Someone in the discussion said that they wished they were attending the party, and I kind of agreed, which was a little out of character for me since I'm not much of a party person. The setting was certainly attractive, though, a stone house with nice landscaping looking like it should be in Provence.
I guess I clicked on her avatar or something, because suddenly it filled the whole screen. The view was now inside the house, though, and the women were in really elaborate and colorful eastern European costumes, with equally elaborate hairstyles (the one I can remember was a halo of tiny buns all around her head, supplemented with some kind of flowery decoration). They looked like they were warming up when an announcer came on and announced, in French, that they were such-and-such gypsy group and they were going to be doing a show; he also made it clear somehow that this was in Quebec.
The show started when some very animated gypsy music came on. The most interesting thing was that when they moved, their costumes moved with them. The dancer most visible had a couple of huge chrysanthemum-like flowers on the front of her dress, and they opened and closed and revealed different layers of petals, each with its own color and shape, kind of like a kaleidoscope. I thought vaguely that instead of dwelling on the injustices of my Cinderella-hood, maybe I should have just distracted myself with this first instead, because I suddenly felt a lot better.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Biathlon
I dreamed that my sister had talked me into competing in a biathlon. I struggled through the first leg of the race--the foot race. Every time I dream about running it's always the same: incredibly frustrating and slow, as though I'm running through chest-high water. This dream was no exception, and I fought through the foot race part, arriving at the bike race completely exhausted.
Ahead of me was my sister (in real life a bike enthusiast) and some other unidentified friends of mine. They were already taking their bikes and jumping astride as though they had found the foot race an enjoyable little diversion.
I took my bike out of the rack and followed the signs for the race course. Apparently part of the race was through a building, part of which included a school gym and part of which was something like a small grocery store. I rode into the grocery store room (very small) and navigated around the wire racks, trying not to knock anything over. I was very frustrated because I couldn't see the next arrow for the race course. I rode around and around this grocery room, getting increasingly angry. Finally, I rode over to this door (which had no race arrow) and saw, far ahead now, my friends and my sister. I rode out the door and, sure enough, across the road was the elusive race course arrow, pointing the way up a giant hill.
I started to ride up the hill, but quickly realized there was no way I could actually ride up that monster. I got off and started walking my bike. Suddenly I realized that I was dragging my bike; it was attached to my waist behind me. At this point, I was near tears because everyone had left me behind and also I was struggling to walk, again like I was walking through chest-high water.
I thought that I really wanted to finish the race for personal pride, but I was so tired, angry, and frustrated that I wanted to quit.
Ahead of me was my sister (in real life a bike enthusiast) and some other unidentified friends of mine. They were already taking their bikes and jumping astride as though they had found the foot race an enjoyable little diversion.
I took my bike out of the rack and followed the signs for the race course. Apparently part of the race was through a building, part of which included a school gym and part of which was something like a small grocery store. I rode into the grocery store room (very small) and navigated around the wire racks, trying not to knock anything over. I was very frustrated because I couldn't see the next arrow for the race course. I rode around and around this grocery room, getting increasingly angry. Finally, I rode over to this door (which had no race arrow) and saw, far ahead now, my friends and my sister. I rode out the door and, sure enough, across the road was the elusive race course arrow, pointing the way up a giant hill.
I started to ride up the hill, but quickly realized there was no way I could actually ride up that monster. I got off and started walking my bike. Suddenly I realized that I was dragging my bike; it was attached to my waist behind me. At this point, I was near tears because everyone had left me behind and also I was struggling to walk, again like I was walking through chest-high water.
I thought that I really wanted to finish the race for personal pride, but I was so tired, angry, and frustrated that I wanted to quit.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
doggy diarrhea and edward gorey
** Warning: this dream contains graphic excrement and may not be appropriate for all readers. **
This was a variation on a theme I've dreamed before. I was living with my parents, sister, and grandmother (I don't remember any spouses for my sister and me, but it's possible they were there too). Somehow I had gotten myself into a position where I was doing 99% of the housework without realizing it--cooking, meal cleanup, laundry, cleaning, everything. All of the family members were sitting around the living room reading* and I was wandering around trying figure out what to do next and wishing I had time to do some project for myself, or my own reading. The dog was laying on the couch, and I realized that something wasn't quite right with her backside. On closer inspection, I saw that she was smeared with the remains of diarrhea. At first I thought none of it had gotten on the couch, and I was panicking about how to try to get her off the couch without dirtying it. I started freaking out and yelling incoherently about dog doo and having to move her, and that they needed to help me, but everyone just glanced up vaguely and went right back to their reading. Then I saw that there was a big plop of excrement that had landed in between the two couch sections, and that really set me off. I started yelling and hyperventilating, which got the dog all riled up so that she spread little bits of yellowish pea-soup-resembling doo all over everything.
Of course that got me even more agitated, and I yelled and yelled and yelled about how I was doing ALL the work for everyone, even washing their dirty laundry, and did they really think that was fair, and how had this happened, and why wouldn't anyone help me with anything, and how could they live with themselves, and why didn't they notice that dog excrement, and why did they think it was okay that *I* was going to have to be the one to clean up all the little bits smeared all around.
They just looked at me with mild surprise and concern, made a few lame excuses for not helping, and a couple of them just left the room to get away from my yelling, implying that the problem was that I was unhinged.
Then my alarm went off, and in my hazy, feeble attempts to stop hyperventilating and wake up, my brain abruptly started making up Edward Gorey-esque doggerel: "J is for Jacob, who exhibited pluck; I is for Ivan, who ran out of luck."
*My family's default setting in real life.
This was a variation on a theme I've dreamed before. I was living with my parents, sister, and grandmother (I don't remember any spouses for my sister and me, but it's possible they were there too). Somehow I had gotten myself into a position where I was doing 99% of the housework without realizing it--cooking, meal cleanup, laundry, cleaning, everything. All of the family members were sitting around the living room reading* and I was wandering around trying figure out what to do next and wishing I had time to do some project for myself, or my own reading. The dog was laying on the couch, and I realized that something wasn't quite right with her backside. On closer inspection, I saw that she was smeared with the remains of diarrhea. At first I thought none of it had gotten on the couch, and I was panicking about how to try to get her off the couch without dirtying it. I started freaking out and yelling incoherently about dog doo and having to move her, and that they needed to help me, but everyone just glanced up vaguely and went right back to their reading. Then I saw that there was a big plop of excrement that had landed in between the two couch sections, and that really set me off. I started yelling and hyperventilating, which got the dog all riled up so that she spread little bits of yellowish pea-soup-resembling doo all over everything.
Of course that got me even more agitated, and I yelled and yelled and yelled about how I was doing ALL the work for everyone, even washing their dirty laundry, and did they really think that was fair, and how had this happened, and why wouldn't anyone help me with anything, and how could they live with themselves, and why didn't they notice that dog excrement, and why did they think it was okay that *I* was going to have to be the one to clean up all the little bits smeared all around.
They just looked at me with mild surprise and concern, made a few lame excuses for not helping, and a couple of them just left the room to get away from my yelling, implying that the problem was that I was unhinged.
Then my alarm went off, and in my hazy, feeble attempts to stop hyperventilating and wake up, my brain abruptly started making up Edward Gorey-esque doggerel: "J is for Jacob, who exhibited pluck; I is for Ivan, who ran out of luck."
*My family's default setting in real life.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Overreacting?
I was standing in line in the cafeteria at work. It is some special occasion where they have made a lot of food. I am in line with two other people (one male, one female). I see the cafeteria workers lift the aluminum covers off the food. Almost every dish was made with beef or pork, two things I do not eat. I started getting angry about it, since I had waited so long for food only for it be be something I couldn't enjoy. I start talking to the person next to me very loudly, saying how on special occasions the out to make something ever one can eat. There was nothing for vegetarians. My turn comes and the person behind the counter asks for my order. I ask him to tell me what each dish is even though I know they are all made with beef. I ask if there is anything with chicken. He tells me there are pre-made chicken sandwiches, but nothing hot. So I have to order that. Then he asks if I want a vegetable. I see collard greens, but I can also see chunks of pork swimming in the juice. Frustrated, I just ask for banana pudding (even though I don't like it), since that is the only side dish not cooked with pork.
I am expressing my frustration to my friend. People are starting to look at me, but I really don't care. I get up to the front to pay for the food, saying loudly that I should only get charged the price of a mean that includes a side and not extra for the dessert since there were no sides I could eat. A male friend comes up to me and tells me to calm down, which makes me more upset. I am standing a little bit away from him when the woman representing the company overseeing the catering comes over. She is complaining loudly about the "chicken head" that is making such a fuss over the food, saying "She needs to keep her mouth shut!" and other threats. The woman goes to the other side of the room without realizing I am the woman she is talking about. I walk closer to my friend and ask him, "Am I overreacting". I think on big occasions like this they out to have something for everybody and not just what is easiest for them to make. I see he has the woman's card. She works for Deloitte Touche Tomahatsu, a company I worked for before (though they don't do catering in reality). I know if she causes trouble, I can contact my connections there to back me up. The woman comes over again, this time acting more professional. I introduce myself as the chicken head she was complaining about before. I say I will hear her explanation about the food even though I know everything she will say to me is just her being polite and not how she really feels. I can tell from the look on her face she is embarrassed to know I overheard her ranting.
Scene switches: I am driving in my car going down a hill on my way to work. I am still upset about the cafeteria incident and am writing the complaint letter in my head. I know my complaint letter will upset the head of food services and will be brought to the attention of my boss' boss, GH. I imagine GH will tell my boss, JT, to get me under control. I decide that if JT is told to fire me, I am okay with that.
I am expressing my frustration to my friend. People are starting to look at me, but I really don't care. I get up to the front to pay for the food, saying loudly that I should only get charged the price of a mean that includes a side and not extra for the dessert since there were no sides I could eat. A male friend comes up to me and tells me to calm down, which makes me more upset. I am standing a little bit away from him when the woman representing the company overseeing the catering comes over. She is complaining loudly about the "chicken head" that is making such a fuss over the food, saying "She needs to keep her mouth shut!" and other threats. The woman goes to the other side of the room without realizing I am the woman she is talking about. I walk closer to my friend and ask him, "Am I overreacting". I think on big occasions like this they out to have something for everybody and not just what is easiest for them to make. I see he has the woman's card. She works for Deloitte Touche Tomahatsu, a company I worked for before (though they don't do catering in reality). I know if she causes trouble, I can contact my connections there to back me up. The woman comes over again, this time acting more professional. I introduce myself as the chicken head she was complaining about before. I say I will hear her explanation about the food even though I know everything she will say to me is just her being polite and not how she really feels. I can tell from the look on her face she is embarrassed to know I overheard her ranting.
Scene switches: I am driving in my car going down a hill on my way to work. I am still upset about the cafeteria incident and am writing the complaint letter in my head. I know my complaint letter will upset the head of food services and will be brought to the attention of my boss' boss, GH. I imagine GH will tell my boss, JT, to get me under control. I decide that if JT is told to fire me, I am okay with that.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
saving ewan mcgregor's relationship
I had a dream the other night that I was somewhere in a big group setting (surprise!). There were tables in a cavernous gym-like building, and people were milling around or sitting at the tables, although I don't remember what they were actually doing. I was observing Ewan McGregor (?!) and his girlfriend, who was a fairly nondescript girl with short-ish blond-ish hair, who gave off a faintly desperate vibe like the least-attractive member of a popular clique. Ewan had a very large, loutish friend who kept obnoxiously coming on to his girlfriend. The problem was that Ewan didn't seem to notice, and kept urging his girlfriend to go do whatever it was that the lout was inviting her to do. She was clearly upset about the whole thing.
I could see that bad things were going to happen if he didn't get a clue, but I didn't want to be that meddlesome, so I called his girlfriend over (I also didn't want to talk to him because I knew that would make her think I was coming on to him). I told her that I saw what was going on, and urged her to talk to Ewan about it and let him know how she felt and that she needed him to be more protective of her, because she was feeling insecure and unwanted at his apparent indifference.
The girlfriend completely, willfully didn't get that I was just trying to help, and she started yelling at me that I was a terrible person, I was just trying to ruin her relationship and steal her boyfriend, I didn't know anything about anything, I needed to stay away from her, etc. etc*. It was very embarassing and maddening, but I think I just slunk off instead of trying to justify my intentions.
After that I was on--wait for it!--a group trip. I don't remember who else was there, whether it was mostly people from my distant past or just stock dream characters, but the boy I had a crush on in elementary school was there, adult but otherwise pretty much the same. He was trying to get a coffee maker to work. He thought it was a French press, but it turned out it was a drip machine tricked out to look like a big, complicated French press. Then we were all getting ready to go on a group outing (church, maybe; something similarly institutional) and I was trying to find something to wear [here we go again with the repeated themes]. I was thinking about a dark-grey long-sleeved t-shirt under a mustard-print dress, but I wasn't sure if I had the shoes and accessories to pull it together, I wasn't sure if it was weather-appropriate, and I was stressed about getting ready in time.
At some point in the latter part of the dream I remembered being bawled out by E. McGregor's girlfriend and congratulated myself on having forgotten about it, seeing that as a sign of good mental health.
*An interesting variation on the dreams where people are berating me, since it's usually family members doing it.
I could see that bad things were going to happen if he didn't get a clue, but I didn't want to be that meddlesome, so I called his girlfriend over (I also didn't want to talk to him because I knew that would make her think I was coming on to him). I told her that I saw what was going on, and urged her to talk to Ewan about it and let him know how she felt and that she needed him to be more protective of her, because she was feeling insecure and unwanted at his apparent indifference.
The girlfriend completely, willfully didn't get that I was just trying to help, and she started yelling at me that I was a terrible person, I was just trying to ruin her relationship and steal her boyfriend, I didn't know anything about anything, I needed to stay away from her, etc. etc*. It was very embarassing and maddening, but I think I just slunk off instead of trying to justify my intentions.
After that I was on--wait for it!--a group trip. I don't remember who else was there, whether it was mostly people from my distant past or just stock dream characters, but the boy I had a crush on in elementary school was there, adult but otherwise pretty much the same. He was trying to get a coffee maker to work. He thought it was a French press, but it turned out it was a drip machine tricked out to look like a big, complicated French press. Then we were all getting ready to go on a group outing (church, maybe; something similarly institutional) and I was trying to find something to wear [here we go again with the repeated themes]. I was thinking about a dark-grey long-sleeved t-shirt under a mustard-print dress, but I wasn't sure if I had the shoes and accessories to pull it together, I wasn't sure if it was weather-appropriate, and I was stressed about getting ready in time.
At some point in the latter part of the dream I remembered being bawled out by E. McGregor's girlfriend and congratulated myself on having forgotten about it, seeing that as a sign of good mental health.
*An interesting variation on the dreams where people are berating me, since it's usually family members doing it.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
racist photographer
I dreamed that there had been a big tornado in the city where I live, and everything was pretty devastated. I guess I had missed the action, because I wasn't all that concerned about it, and apparently nothing I owned had been damaged. I was looking at a collection of photographs that had been taken of the damage. They were really beautiful photographs, with a lot of close-ups of people caught in action. The overall effect was kind of a surreal carnival of destruction. As I looked at them I became very disturbed, though, because everyone in the photos was black*, and I realized that a lot of the photos were deliberately ambiguous in a way that would make the viewer surmise that the people in them were looting or engaged in some other dubious activity. I was really mad that the photographer had couched such an insidiously racist message in such beautiful pictures.
*This is not a city with a large number of blacks, which is significant to the point of the dream.
*This is not a city with a large number of blacks, which is significant to the point of the dream.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
trash dumping
Right before I woke up I was dreaming that my husband and I were at some abandoned house out in the country. Apparently we had previously done some illegal trash dumping there, and I was concerned because the trash was starting to fly around in the breeze. He was busy perfecting a woven helmet contraption that would fulfill some vital purpose, though, and he got really mad at me for interrupting his concentration with my trash anxiety and not fully appreciating the woven helmet.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
more family drama
Here's another recent family-related dream. This has happened several times before, and it's a pretty transparent case of transferring resentment from one person to another (or several). I dreamed that I was living with my parents, sister, and maybe some other assorted family members. Sort of a big extended-family commune. I realized that I was responsible for every single domestic task: cleaning, cooking, washing dishes. Then I counted up how many people I was doing this for, and thought about how they were seemingly not responsible for any tasks at all. I brought this up and they seemed surprised that I was upset about the inequity. Indeed, they seemed not to have noticed that one person was singlehandedly producing their meals and cleaning up after them.
Hmmm.
Hmmm.
my mother thinks i'm a terrible person
I had another one of those disheartening mother-hate dreams last night. I was in high dudgeon about something and my mother got really disgusted with me (thank you, i hope so, that was the apt word for her reaction in these dreams). She started raking me over the coals about my bad attitude, saying that I was getting disproportionately angry about everything, it was a terrible attitude, I needed to shape up, and basically that I was a terrible person.
The interesting thing is that I do feel like I've been disproportionately and indiscriminately angry for a while now, and I feel guilty about it. So maybe some of these dreams are just caused by guilt feelings.
The interesting thing is that I do feel like I've been disproportionately and indiscriminately angry for a while now, and I feel guilty about it. So maybe some of these dreams are just caused by guilt feelings.
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