I haven't been keeping track of my dreams for a while, but I just thought this recent pair of celebrity cameos was amusing.
In the first, I was working as a personal assistant to Bill Clinton, who was writing his memoirs [didn't he already do that?]. We were sitting and talking about something that needed to be done, and he was complaining about his legs being irritated. He hiked up his suit pants to reveal skinny, pale Old Man legs covered with weird scratches* and equipped with some kind of weird braces possibly meant to hold up his socks.
The second cameo appearance was by a French rock star [who did something terrible in real life that I won't dwell on here]. In the first part of the dream I had been getting ready with some friends for a Halloween party that would take place later that day. I'd been combing through my wardrobe, cobbling together an outfit consisting of vintage items from the 40s through the 60s to go as "an extra from Mad Men", which I saw as a cop-out, but a fun one. I didn't realize what a weird mishmash it was until I woke up; in the dream, I had much more interesting and historically accurate hair (well, historically accurate for the 40s!), and the outfit was going to be tied together with a cute little hat and coral red nail polish.
Anyway, I'd left my preparations to go to an antique store, although not with the purpose of adding to my costume. I was there just to browse, but a group of people caught my attention. There were 5-10 people gathered in a little sitting area in the middle of the store, around a table with lots of drink bottles and glasses. It took me a minute, but I realized that it was a class on cocktail mixing, with an emphasis on imaginative combinations of non-mainstream ingredients. It was being led by a few people, but the big draw was obviously this French rock star, who wasn't teaching so much as he was just mixing things up, imbibing, and commenting vaguely on people's concoctions. He seemed to be getting bored as I stood there observing, and soon just gave up the entire show to a Maggie Smith-like lady who started theorizing about why people were drawn to flavors like carrot cake (sentimental childhood-related reasons, from what I gathered).
I'd been gradually approaching the group because the whole thing was intriguing, and had even sampled one girl's drink, which just tasted like grape juice. Mr. Rock Star seemed to find me interesting for some reason. I fancied that this was because I seemed blase and unimpressed by his status. He started gesturing with his head for us to get out of there, but I stalled by commenting further on the poor girl's grape juice facsimile. I eventually followed him out to a little vestibule that led to the restrooms, where I commented on his large, elaborately carved ivory toothpick (really! and no, I don't think that was some kind of phallic symbol). I restrained myself from commenting sardonically that fancy ivory toothpicks were a nice perk of the trade. For some reason he seemed very interested in spending some time with me (not that kind of time, he seemed more bored and lonely than anything else), but I had to politely brush him off because of the costume party.
What a weird combination of cameos.
*This detail was almost certainly inspired by that gruesome and sad Downton Abbey episode where Bates tries to cure his limp using a metal brace.
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Friday, March 23, 2012
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
retail
I haven't been remembering many dreams lately, although I know the group-living dreams are continuing, since I can recall a snippet of one from the other night (a friend was fixing a computer for me, pulled out a long, nasty string of mold/cobwebs, then carefully replaced it in the bowels of the computer).
Last night, though, or rather this morning just before waking up, I was having a different recurring-theme dream, a theme I like better than the group-living one. I was in an Anthropologie-esque store, looking at the sale section*. Actually, this store was a lot less attractive than a real Anthropologie store, resembling more closely a mall Dillard's or something like that. The merchandise, however, included some very cute clothing. I particularly remember a strapless dress made out of a linen-y fabric with multicolored blowsy roses printed on a deep rose background. It doesn't sound like me, not being either a strapless-dress or a cabbage rose kind of girl, but it was actually very appealing, and I was sorry it wasn't in my size.
The really great thing on offer, though, was a home fix-it book. It had simple, clearly written instructions on all kinds of things, accompanied by photos and drawings. The design was very well done, clean and attractive and just girly enough to be a good fit with the store (but not too girly; not festooned with pink). There were instructions on unclogging a drain** and rewiring a lamp, and I don't remember what else. It was quite disappointing to wake up and realize that I couldn't actually buy the book for $5.99 or however much it was on sale for.
*Not too far off from reality, since I often troll the sale room at Anthropologie, it being my "pass" to park in their parking lot so I can avoid the highly unpleasant Whole Foods parking garage. This particular retail dream differs from the usual, though, in that it's the first I can remember not involving secondhand merchandise.
**Also reality-based, since we've been having some bathtub drainage issues.
Last night, though, or rather this morning just before waking up, I was having a different recurring-theme dream, a theme I like better than the group-living one. I was in an Anthropologie-esque store, looking at the sale section*. Actually, this store was a lot less attractive than a real Anthropologie store, resembling more closely a mall Dillard's or something like that. The merchandise, however, included some very cute clothing. I particularly remember a strapless dress made out of a linen-y fabric with multicolored blowsy roses printed on a deep rose background. It doesn't sound like me, not being either a strapless-dress or a cabbage rose kind of girl, but it was actually very appealing, and I was sorry it wasn't in my size.
The really great thing on offer, though, was a home fix-it book. It had simple, clearly written instructions on all kinds of things, accompanied by photos and drawings. The design was very well done, clean and attractive and just girly enough to be a good fit with the store (but not too girly; not festooned with pink). There were instructions on unclogging a drain** and rewiring a lamp, and I don't remember what else. It was quite disappointing to wake up and realize that I couldn't actually buy the book for $5.99 or however much it was on sale for.
*Not too far off from reality, since I often troll the sale room at Anthropologie, it being my "pass" to park in their parking lot so I can avoid the highly unpleasant Whole Foods parking garage. This particular retail dream differs from the usual, though, in that it's the first I can remember not involving secondhand merchandise.
**Also reality-based, since we've been having some bathtub drainage issues.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
physically retarded and mealy-mouthed
I woke up this morning with the phrase "physically retarded and mealy-mouthed" ringing in my head. I don't remember the exact context, but I had been using it to describe the CEO of some large, nasty corporation. I was trying desperately to determine whether or not my terminology would be considered crass and insensitive to the actual disabled population. I decided that it was okay, since it was a figurative use (??). [This struggling over semantics happens a lot in my dreams, and I almost always end up hitting on some word combination that seems brilliant in the dream but which makes no sense on waking; or something that rhymes in the dream but that doesn't actually rhyme at all.]
I had also been dreaming about shopping for dress pants with my husband. Most of the men's selection of dress pants featured semi-flexible tabs sticking out all over, in various shades of gold and yellow. Once I was awake, I realized that they were modeled after the tabs that road crews stick on the center stripe. I have absolutely no idea where this could have come from, other than the seemingly endless road construction projects scattered along my daily route.
I had also been dreaming about shopping for dress pants with my husband. Most of the men's selection of dress pants featured semi-flexible tabs sticking out all over, in various shades of gold and yellow. Once I was awake, I realized that they were modeled after the tabs that road crews stick on the center stripe. I have absolutely no idea where this could have come from, other than the seemingly endless road construction projects scattered along my daily route.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
some non-gory but brutal violence, and an excessive amount of detail
I'm completely overwhelmed by all the dreams I've had lately. For one thing, I feel like I've only remembered a tiny percentage of fragments; for another, they've been insanely and excessively detailed (noticeably more than usual, which is saying a lot). I guess I'll just start with some snippets in no particular order and see how far I get.
++++++++++++++++++++
This morning before work (in real life) I logged in to Yahoo IM in hopes of talking to a friend in a faraway time zone who's been wanting to chat for a while. Then I realized that I was falling asleep, so I turned the volume way up on the computer in hopes of waking up with the little window-opening noise if he tried to chat with me. That's the real-life background.
In the dream, I was sleeping in my house (except that of course it was slightly different, both in the house's characteristics and the location, which was more wooded). In the dream I also had the computer on while I slept (for the same reason), so I was sleeping a bit fitfully. [I find it weird when dreams parallel real life so closely, especially when I dream that I'm asleep.] I ended up waking up to find that my husband had been there, which surprised me since he had already gone to work and is usually way too busy to come back home. He was trying to sleep in a gigantic king-size bed in a different bedroom (our house had morphed again), and said that he had come home the previous morning too.
That was the boring part. I got into bed intending to sleep some more, and woke up to hear strange sounds outside. We got up and looked out the window, and finally figured out that it was a disgruntled former coworker of my husband, shooting randomly with a shotgun (it must have been a pretty wimpy shotgun, because the sounds weren't very loud). We weren't sure what to do, but before we had decided on a course of action I heard noises in the house. He had somehow gotten inside and was waving his gun around, ranting and raving. I went out into the living room, and he shot wildly and missed the side of my head. Obviously something had to be done, so I picked up a greenish marble cutting board (not something we own) and gave him several solid blows to the head. He slumped over a countertop and I hit him several more times, very much in the way you'd crush a cockroach to be sure it was dead (there was no gore, at least). Then I produced a small pistol out of the blue (we don't have a pistol either) and shot him in the temple to be really sure--no gore there, either. The pistol was just as wimpy as his shotgun--no kick, and not much noise. It occurred to me to wonder why I hadn't found a bigger gun, but this one seemed to have done the job.
Of course after that I was stressed about what to do, not to mention extremely disturbed at having just killed someone (in self-defense, but still, the repeated head-bashing was a little much). Fortunately my alarm went off then.
++++++++++++++++++
Another recent dream involved living in a dorm modeled loosely after my high-school dorm (where, thankfully, I didn't actually have to live). The rooms were very small and the hallways were narrow, and it was set up so that people in the hallway could peek through large cracks in western-saloon type doors and see what was going on in the bathrooms. There wasn't much of a plot, just an overwhelming amount of stuff all over--my stuff, other people's stuff, just all kinds of objects crammed into every available space. At one point I took a bath in some random stranger's bathtub, and the bathroom was chock full of all kinds of toiletries and shampoo. After that I visited my sister in her room and spent some time going through her selection of jewelry, which was a lot of ethnic and vintage stuff. I remember a necklace of jet beads carved into the shape of rosebuds, almost like a rosary, and a curious thing from Czechoslovakia: an egg-shaped container of very thin wood with decorative painting. I opened it up to find that it was full of tiny pins out of the same very thin wood, in lots of different shapes (people, geometric shapes, etc.), meant to be combined in different configurations. I was extremely impressed with her collection.
The dorm then changed a little bit, and I was in an upstairs room helping Curly Sue (who actually had to live in the aforementioned high-school dorm!) move to a different facility. It turned out that she had been incarcerated for some not-too-serious offense and was graduating to a lower-security facility. It can't have been anything too serious, because her mother was there helping with the move, and she didn't seem too disturbed about her daughter's crime/incarceration. Also, in conversation with them I remembered that my dad had recently had a similar stint behind bars.
The funny random detail here is that she was wearing several hats (literally, not figuratively). She had layered two or three knit caps of various textures on her head, and she changed these at least once during the dream. The consistent thing was that the hat on top was always just balanced rakishly on top of the others, not pulled down over her head. I found it curious and didn't completely comprehend the reason she offhandedly gave for her distinctive headgear styling, but I let it drop.
++++++++++++++++++
That's just a couple; maybe I'll give it another try later. Stay tuned for not just one but TWO dust-ups in thrift stores; an anthropological exploration of either Afghanistan or Macedonia, depending on which part of the dream you believe; and an outpouring of emotion for an adoptive father (??).
++++++++++++++++++++
This morning before work (in real life) I logged in to Yahoo IM in hopes of talking to a friend in a faraway time zone who's been wanting to chat for a while. Then I realized that I was falling asleep, so I turned the volume way up on the computer in hopes of waking up with the little window-opening noise if he tried to chat with me. That's the real-life background.
In the dream, I was sleeping in my house (except that of course it was slightly different, both in the house's characteristics and the location, which was more wooded). In the dream I also had the computer on while I slept (for the same reason), so I was sleeping a bit fitfully. [I find it weird when dreams parallel real life so closely, especially when I dream that I'm asleep.] I ended up waking up to find that my husband had been there, which surprised me since he had already gone to work and is usually way too busy to come back home. He was trying to sleep in a gigantic king-size bed in a different bedroom (our house had morphed again), and said that he had come home the previous morning too.
That was the boring part. I got into bed intending to sleep some more, and woke up to hear strange sounds outside. We got up and looked out the window, and finally figured out that it was a disgruntled former coworker of my husband, shooting randomly with a shotgun (it must have been a pretty wimpy shotgun, because the sounds weren't very loud). We weren't sure what to do, but before we had decided on a course of action I heard noises in the house. He had somehow gotten inside and was waving his gun around, ranting and raving. I went out into the living room, and he shot wildly and missed the side of my head. Obviously something had to be done, so I picked up a greenish marble cutting board (not something we own) and gave him several solid blows to the head. He slumped over a countertop and I hit him several more times, very much in the way you'd crush a cockroach to be sure it was dead (there was no gore, at least). Then I produced a small pistol out of the blue (we don't have a pistol either) and shot him in the temple to be really sure--no gore there, either. The pistol was just as wimpy as his shotgun--no kick, and not much noise. It occurred to me to wonder why I hadn't found a bigger gun, but this one seemed to have done the job.
Of course after that I was stressed about what to do, not to mention extremely disturbed at having just killed someone (in self-defense, but still, the repeated head-bashing was a little much). Fortunately my alarm went off then.
++++++++++++++++++
Another recent dream involved living in a dorm modeled loosely after my high-school dorm (where, thankfully, I didn't actually have to live). The rooms were very small and the hallways were narrow, and it was set up so that people in the hallway could peek through large cracks in western-saloon type doors and see what was going on in the bathrooms. There wasn't much of a plot, just an overwhelming amount of stuff all over--my stuff, other people's stuff, just all kinds of objects crammed into every available space. At one point I took a bath in some random stranger's bathtub, and the bathroom was chock full of all kinds of toiletries and shampoo. After that I visited my sister in her room and spent some time going through her selection of jewelry, which was a lot of ethnic and vintage stuff. I remember a necklace of jet beads carved into the shape of rosebuds, almost like a rosary, and a curious thing from Czechoslovakia: an egg-shaped container of very thin wood with decorative painting. I opened it up to find that it was full of tiny pins out of the same very thin wood, in lots of different shapes (people, geometric shapes, etc.), meant to be combined in different configurations. I was extremely impressed with her collection.
The dorm then changed a little bit, and I was in an upstairs room helping Curly Sue (who actually had to live in the aforementioned high-school dorm!) move to a different facility. It turned out that she had been incarcerated for some not-too-serious offense and was graduating to a lower-security facility. It can't have been anything too serious, because her mother was there helping with the move, and she didn't seem too disturbed about her daughter's crime/incarceration. Also, in conversation with them I remembered that my dad had recently had a similar stint behind bars.
The funny random detail here is that she was wearing several hats (literally, not figuratively). She had layered two or three knit caps of various textures on her head, and she changed these at least once during the dream. The consistent thing was that the hat on top was always just balanced rakishly on top of the others, not pulled down over her head. I found it curious and didn't completely comprehend the reason she offhandedly gave for her distinctive headgear styling, but I let it drop.
++++++++++++++++++
That's just a couple; maybe I'll give it another try later. Stay tuned for not just one but TWO dust-ups in thrift stores; an anthropological exploration of either Afghanistan or Macedonia, depending on which part of the dream you believe; and an outpouring of emotion for an adoptive father (??).
Friday, April 16, 2010
gross and girly
I dreamed the other night that I was staying with my husband at my parents' house (they weren't there). I had apparently disposed of some leftovers (a lot of beans, and some other miscellaneous food) in the upstairs bathroom toilet, but hadn't flushed for some reason that seemed perfectly legitimate at the time.
Three girls in their mid to late 20s were there, for some reason I can't remember. Neither of us knew them, but their presence there had been pre-arranged through some sort of lodging swap program. We had just gotten home from somewhere, and I had decided that it was the perfect time to broach the subject with him of whether or not we were ever going to have kids. I have no idea why I found this the ideal time, especially with the three visitors in the house, but I was convinced it was the perfect opportunity, so I cornered him on the piano bench and started questioning him.
He wasn't as forthcoming as I had expected, and the conversation soon fizzled out. I was walking around the house doing chores, and he was in the living room messing with his phone. I ascertained that he was calling, or trying to call, a girl, and got very disturbed about this--especially since I took it as a reaction to my effort to get him to decide on the procreation question.
I decided to just stay upstairs and occupy myself with things and let him call whoever he wanted. I would then react as warranted to whatever ended up happening. Alarmingly, though, I looked over the second floor balcony and saw the three female visitors lounging in the living room in see-through 1950s lingerie (all three of them had very vintage/rockabilly hair and makeup). Great, my husband is in the living room making a "booty call" while surrounded with three women in various states of undress, looking like Suicide Girls itching for an orgy! I was quite unhappy but determined to maintain my sangfroid. The most annoying thing was my impression that I was expected to waltz down there and join in their orgy with them (even though said orgy had not started and was possibly only a figment of my imagination).
I went into the bathroom fuming and flushed the toilet. Unfortunately, though, the garbage had sat in there long enough to start getting fizzy, and the whole thing blew and splattered all over the place when I tried to flush it. There were little bits of decomposing garbage all over, including on my eyelashes. I went out to inform the charming group below that the toilet had exploded and that I was going to have to clean the whole bathroom and then take a shower (what better way to discourage them from including me in their orgy?).
I never did get my shower, although I did get the bits of slime rinsed off my face. The girls had come upstairs and I gradually caught on that they did not, in fact, intend to involve our couple in an orgy. On realizing that, I started to warm to them and we ended up in my old room talking about vintage clothes, various sewing and crafty things, and selling on etsy. I started rooting around in my old dresser and came up with handfuls of really neat old pajamas--lots of hand-embroidered silk and that kind of thing.
The whole encounter turned out rather pleasant, except that after having rinsed my face I hadn't put on any lotion, so my face was very tight and itchy. Also, I realized that since my parents weren't there--and since the girls weren't there to engage in an orgy--we had three separate bedrooms to lodge them in. The only problem was that the other two bedrooms available hadn't been cleaned in quite some time and were crawling with dust bunnies, which I found very embarrassing. (Garbage-spattered clothing and dried-up face showing messy and dirty lodging space to very cute, put-together visitors. Great.) I don't even want to think about what this dream says about me or my sense of self, but once again I've managed to generate a surreal and unwholesome list of labels.
Three girls in their mid to late 20s were there, for some reason I can't remember. Neither of us knew them, but their presence there had been pre-arranged through some sort of lodging swap program. We had just gotten home from somewhere, and I had decided that it was the perfect time to broach the subject with him of whether or not we were ever going to have kids. I have no idea why I found this the ideal time, especially with the three visitors in the house, but I was convinced it was the perfect opportunity, so I cornered him on the piano bench and started questioning him.
He wasn't as forthcoming as I had expected, and the conversation soon fizzled out. I was walking around the house doing chores, and he was in the living room messing with his phone. I ascertained that he was calling, or trying to call, a girl, and got very disturbed about this--especially since I took it as a reaction to my effort to get him to decide on the procreation question.
I decided to just stay upstairs and occupy myself with things and let him call whoever he wanted. I would then react as warranted to whatever ended up happening. Alarmingly, though, I looked over the second floor balcony and saw the three female visitors lounging in the living room in see-through 1950s lingerie (all three of them had very vintage/rockabilly hair and makeup). Great, my husband is in the living room making a "booty call" while surrounded with three women in various states of undress, looking like Suicide Girls itching for an orgy! I was quite unhappy but determined to maintain my sangfroid. The most annoying thing was my impression that I was expected to waltz down there and join in their orgy with them (even though said orgy had not started and was possibly only a figment of my imagination).
I went into the bathroom fuming and flushed the toilet. Unfortunately, though, the garbage had sat in there long enough to start getting fizzy, and the whole thing blew and splattered all over the place when I tried to flush it. There were little bits of decomposing garbage all over, including on my eyelashes. I went out to inform the charming group below that the toilet had exploded and that I was going to have to clean the whole bathroom and then take a shower (what better way to discourage them from including me in their orgy?).
I never did get my shower, although I did get the bits of slime rinsed off my face. The girls had come upstairs and I gradually caught on that they did not, in fact, intend to involve our couple in an orgy. On realizing that, I started to warm to them and we ended up in my old room talking about vintage clothes, various sewing and crafty things, and selling on etsy. I started rooting around in my old dresser and came up with handfuls of really neat old pajamas--lots of hand-embroidered silk and that kind of thing.
The whole encounter turned out rather pleasant, except that after having rinsed my face I hadn't put on any lotion, so my face was very tight and itchy. Also, I realized that since my parents weren't there--and since the girls weren't there to engage in an orgy--we had three separate bedrooms to lodge them in. The only problem was that the other two bedrooms available hadn't been cleaned in quite some time and were crawling with dust bunnies, which I found very embarrassing. (Garbage-spattered clothing and dried-up face showing messy and dirty lodging space to very cute, put-together visitors. Great.) I don't even want to think about what this dream says about me or my sense of self, but once again I've managed to generate a surreal and unwholesome list of labels.
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 22, 2010
contradictory messages from my subconscious
I had a weird variation on the choosing-clothes dream last night. I dreamed that I was in a church boarding school environment* and there was going to be one of those "banquets" that happens every so often at schools that don't condone dancing and thus can't have a school dance. I was more or less my actual age, so I'm not sure what I was doing at the school--I think everyone else was more or less my actual age too, so logistically that was weird.
The really weird part, though, was that I actually had an appropriate outfit picked out, it fit fine, and I was completely relaxed and even kind of looking forward to the event, if for nothing else because I really liked the outfit. It was a floor-length, vaguely 70s dress--maybe strapless--with interesting construction. The cloth was very thin black silk with large, bright-colored slightly abstract watercolor flowers (mostly various shades of red and orange, with some gold and green). There were several layers of fabric, with slightly ruffly pieces sticking out here and there, and it fit me really well. I'm not sure what shoes I was going to wear (I remember rejecting a pair of red eelskin boots I actually own as being too wintry), but the shoes went great with the dress, and I was going to carry a red eelskin clutch (also an item that I actually own).
I was feeling pretty satisfied and slightly surprised that my outfit had come together, when I heard that the event had been postponed because of a tragedy that had befallen a girl's family (someone I actually went to school with). A building that the family ran a business in had burned down recently, and now their house had burned down too, so the banquet was being postponed as a gesture of respect for their loss.
The next I can remember, I was driving a big truck, very much like a huge SUV we actually used to have**. I needed to park it at some business, and on arriving I was a little dismayed at the lack of sufficiently capacious parking. I drove around to the back and found that there were more empty spaces back there. I aimed for a space marked "SUV" that was wider than the others, but instead found myself headed into one marked "small car". I thought, "well, maybe I can at least center it in here since the spaces on both sides are empty. I started to brake, and was alarmed to find that although it was slowing down it was definitely not stopping; in fact, it kept going and I eased right off the edge of the lot and landed (rather gently) on a lower parking area. To add insult to injry, while this lack of braking control was going on, I was also experiencing a lack of bowel control!
I can't believe my subconscious is this sadistic; first it teases me with an "I'm-in-control-and-not-having-a-wardrobe-crisis" plotline, then it throws an out-of-control car AND bowels at me.
*What's with these constant school-flashback dreams?
**This SUV has figured in my dreams at least once before, in a similar role--I'm having a hard time driving it/stopping it.
The really weird part, though, was that I actually had an appropriate outfit picked out, it fit fine, and I was completely relaxed and even kind of looking forward to the event, if for nothing else because I really liked the outfit. It was a floor-length, vaguely 70s dress--maybe strapless--with interesting construction. The cloth was very thin black silk with large, bright-colored slightly abstract watercolor flowers (mostly various shades of red and orange, with some gold and green). There were several layers of fabric, with slightly ruffly pieces sticking out here and there, and it fit me really well. I'm not sure what shoes I was going to wear (I remember rejecting a pair of red eelskin boots I actually own as being too wintry), but the shoes went great with the dress, and I was going to carry a red eelskin clutch (also an item that I actually own).
I was feeling pretty satisfied and slightly surprised that my outfit had come together, when I heard that the event had been postponed because of a tragedy that had befallen a girl's family (someone I actually went to school with). A building that the family ran a business in had burned down recently, and now their house had burned down too, so the banquet was being postponed as a gesture of respect for their loss.
The next I can remember, I was driving a big truck, very much like a huge SUV we actually used to have**. I needed to park it at some business, and on arriving I was a little dismayed at the lack of sufficiently capacious parking. I drove around to the back and found that there were more empty spaces back there. I aimed for a space marked "SUV" that was wider than the others, but instead found myself headed into one marked "small car". I thought, "well, maybe I can at least center it in here since the spaces on both sides are empty. I started to brake, and was alarmed to find that although it was slowing down it was definitely not stopping; in fact, it kept going and I eased right off the edge of the lot and landed (rather gently) on a lower parking area. To add insult to injry, while this lack of braking control was going on, I was also experiencing a lack of bowel control!
I can't believe my subconscious is this sadistic; first it teases me with an "I'm-in-control-and-not-having-a-wardrobe-crisis" plotline, then it throws an out-of-control car AND bowels at me.
*What's with these constant school-flashback dreams?
**This SUV has figured in my dreams at least once before, in a similar role--I'm having a hard time driving it/stopping it.
Monday, February 8, 2010
chubby and manly?
I hate to displace the great dream below, but if I don't I'm going to forget this. I've had three depressing low-self-esteem dreams lately, three nights in a row.
1.
All I really remember from this one is suddenly realizing that my posterior was WAY bigger than I had been thinking it was. This didn't really fundamentally shake my self-concept, it was just really weird and very surprising. My first thought was, "well, I guess I didn't need to be worried about having a lack in that area", and my second thought was, "oh, I guess I should start exercising more". I also wondered what other aspects of my self-image were totally inaccurate.
2.
This was the worst one, and I was discombobulated by this one for a while after waking. It was in the course of a much longer dream in which I was in Italy on an extended vacation with my parents, sister, and grandmother. We were staying in a huge rented villa. It was a very old building with a lot of weird rooms and strange layouts resulting from hundreds of years of add-ons and modifications. There was also some very unattractive carpeting and paint (think a church basement/fellowship hall with carpet that was cheap thirty years ago).
At some point I was attending a wedding in a nearby church. I don't know who this wedding was for, but the curious thing is how I was dressed. Normally in a dream like this I would have gone through an agonizing search through a weird assortment of very detailed clothes, but I don't remember a getting-dressed sequence in this one. I do remember what I was wearing: an oversized sports jersey (hockey?) tucked into a rose-colored below-the-knee early 90s pleated skirt and topped off with a squarish navy blue cardigan (??!). I had my hair straight and parted on the side, and I remember being satisfied with how I looked [although, at the same time, my always-awake editorial review board was strenuously objecting to the outfit].
I entered the church and wasn't sure which side I should sit on, not recognizing any of the guests. I had just chosen a spot when an older man stationed on the opposite side of the church said--loudly--"young man!" I looked around to see who he was addressing, and he repeated it. Somehow I realized that I was the "young man" in question, and I tried to make him understand that I was not a young man. He was not to be dissuaded, and getting more and more worked up. He said, "young man, don't argue with me!", and went on to bluster that my lack of a tie was inappropriate and that I was going to have to leave until I could produce a tie.
Needless to say, it was extremely humiliating and destabilizing. I think everyone else there pretended that nothing was happening as I beat my retreat.
Later on in the dream, I had an exchange with Lindsay Lohan, who seemed very depressed and a little needy. We talked about how cruel the "entertainment media" was to publish pictures of "Stars without Makeup" and dissect celebrities' appearances when they didn't look any worse than your average person on the street. I got tired of the conversation pretty quickly, but I felt bad for her and couldn't figure out how to extricate myself without hurting her feelings.
3.
The third dream involved a couple of my real-life friends. We were eating in a restaurant somewhere, and one of them (who in real life is the most tactful person you could ever hope to meet) commented on how much I was eating. She said, "yes, I've always been amazed at how much you can eat and how often. I could never eat that much. I guess that's why you're chubby with a belly." This was said with a perfectly straight face, as if it couldn't possibly be offensive to me, so I figured I had better respond in kind, as if it were just a normal discussion about anything else.
1.
All I really remember from this one is suddenly realizing that my posterior was WAY bigger than I had been thinking it was. This didn't really fundamentally shake my self-concept, it was just really weird and very surprising. My first thought was, "well, I guess I didn't need to be worried about having a lack in that area", and my second thought was, "oh, I guess I should start exercising more". I also wondered what other aspects of my self-image were totally inaccurate.
2.
This was the worst one, and I was discombobulated by this one for a while after waking. It was in the course of a much longer dream in which I was in Italy on an extended vacation with my parents, sister, and grandmother. We were staying in a huge rented villa. It was a very old building with a lot of weird rooms and strange layouts resulting from hundreds of years of add-ons and modifications. There was also some very unattractive carpeting and paint (think a church basement/fellowship hall with carpet that was cheap thirty years ago).
At some point I was attending a wedding in a nearby church. I don't know who this wedding was for, but the curious thing is how I was dressed. Normally in a dream like this I would have gone through an agonizing search through a weird assortment of very detailed clothes, but I don't remember a getting-dressed sequence in this one. I do remember what I was wearing: an oversized sports jersey (hockey?) tucked into a rose-colored below-the-knee early 90s pleated skirt and topped off with a squarish navy blue cardigan (??!). I had my hair straight and parted on the side, and I remember being satisfied with how I looked [although, at the same time, my always-awake editorial review board was strenuously objecting to the outfit].
I entered the church and wasn't sure which side I should sit on, not recognizing any of the guests. I had just chosen a spot when an older man stationed on the opposite side of the church said--loudly--"young man!" I looked around to see who he was addressing, and he repeated it. Somehow I realized that I was the "young man" in question, and I tried to make him understand that I was not a young man. He was not to be dissuaded, and getting more and more worked up. He said, "young man, don't argue with me!", and went on to bluster that my lack of a tie was inappropriate and that I was going to have to leave until I could produce a tie.
Needless to say, it was extremely humiliating and destabilizing. I think everyone else there pretended that nothing was happening as I beat my retreat.
Later on in the dream, I had an exchange with Lindsay Lohan, who seemed very depressed and a little needy. We talked about how cruel the "entertainment media" was to publish pictures of "Stars without Makeup" and dissect celebrities' appearances when they didn't look any worse than your average person on the street. I got tired of the conversation pretty quickly, but I felt bad for her and couldn't figure out how to extricate myself without hurting her feelings.
3.
The third dream involved a couple of my real-life friends. We were eating in a restaurant somewhere, and one of them (who in real life is the most tactful person you could ever hope to meet) commented on how much I was eating. She said, "yes, I've always been amazed at how much you can eat and how often. I could never eat that much. I guess that's why you're chubby with a belly." This was said with a perfectly straight face, as if it couldn't possibly be offensive to me, so I figured I had better respond in kind, as if it were just a normal discussion about anything else.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Surprise Visit
I dreamed that I was at work, but was told that my coworker C was absent and that I'd have to do her job for the day. I was taken to sit at her desk and I was really irritated that I'd have to pretend I could do her job. I looked up at the clock and noticed it was only 2:30 pm, and I was a little huffy that I'd have to spend two more hours pretending that I knew what I was doing.
Then I went downstairs to the exhibit area. Apparently there was some kind of reception going on, with people standing around holding drinks and snack foods. Suddenly, Barack Obama showed up, and I seemed to be the only one who was surprised. He was wearing a very nice suit and a really great hat, a 1940s fedora, which actually looked a little too small for him. He was making the rounds, shaking hands, but I was too shy to push forward.
Then I went downstairs to the exhibit area. Apparently there was some kind of reception going on, with people standing around holding drinks and snack foods. Suddenly, Barack Obama showed up, and I seemed to be the only one who was surprised. He was wearing a very nice suit and a really great hat, a 1940s fedora, which actually looked a little too small for him. He was making the rounds, shaking hands, but I was too shy to push forward.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
tiger
the tiger woods scandal made it into my dreams the other night.
i was in a car with my father. we were driving through my parent's neighborhood when a large west indian man with dreads came walking towards us from the side of tiger wood's house (tiger was my parent's neighbor in the dream). the man look frazzled so my dad slowed down the car, rolled down the window, and asked him if he needed help. the west indian man quickly shoved a pile of bloody clothes into my arms and said that he was tiger's house cleaner and tiger had just given him the bloody clothes and told him to "take care of these", meaning to get rid of evidence. the man believed tiger had just killed his wife and wanted us to call the cops and give them the bloody clothes. we took the clothes back to my parent's house and while my dad was trying to call the police, my mom kept digging through the clothes which frustrated me because she was contaminating the evidence.
i was in a car with my father. we were driving through my parent's neighborhood when a large west indian man with dreads came walking towards us from the side of tiger wood's house (tiger was my parent's neighbor in the dream). the man look frazzled so my dad slowed down the car, rolled down the window, and asked him if he needed help. the west indian man quickly shoved a pile of bloody clothes into my arms and said that he was tiger's house cleaner and tiger had just given him the bloody clothes and told him to "take care of these", meaning to get rid of evidence. the man believed tiger had just killed his wife and wanted us to call the cops and give them the bloody clothes. we took the clothes back to my parent's house and while my dad was trying to call the police, my mom kept digging through the clothes which frustrated me because she was contaminating the evidence.
Friday, December 4, 2009
State Dinner
I dreamed that I was a member of Barack Obama's staff and was attending some kind of White House event with other staffers. Most of the dream was about getting ready to go, with the usual drama of finding things, looking for things, etc.
We gathered in a group before walking to the event location. I was taller than everyone else (yes, always, even in real life), including Mr. Obama, who was surprisingly short in the dream. Everyone was wearing subdued colors, as befits a group of staff members. Lots of black, brown, etc.
I was proud of my outfit, which I felt fit the subdued color palette while remaining unique: black silky, long sleeved T shirt; brown striped knee-length skirt, brown knee socks, red sneakers (these are all clothes that I own in real life, but have never worn in combination, though I'm not afraid to wear black with brown).
We gathered in a group before walking to the event location. I was taller than everyone else (yes, always, even in real life), including Mr. Obama, who was surprisingly short in the dream. Everyone was wearing subdued colors, as befits a group of staff members. Lots of black, brown, etc.
I was proud of my outfit, which I felt fit the subdued color palette while remaining unique: black silky, long sleeved T shirt; brown striped knee-length skirt, brown knee socks, red sneakers (these are all clothes that I own in real life, but have never worn in combination, though I'm not afraid to wear black with brown).
Thursday, November 19, 2009
money problems
I had a really sad dream last night. It was sadder in retrospect than while I was dreaming. My husband and I were breaking up--I say "breaking up" because I think in the dream we weren't actually married. Apparently we had been having a lot of issues (in the dream) about money management and autonomy. The plan was to remain friends and pursue some kind of semi-together-but-not-romantic relationship. I was resigned to it, since in the dream I was worn out from our constant conflicts. I wasn't too sad until we encountered a situation where he needed some kind of little thing--maybe a snack? I was going to buy the item from a convenience store with a couple of dollars in quarters, but he stopped me and told me that if we weren't going to be a couple anymore I had to pay with my card so we could strictly divide expenses. I got rather upset and said, "But for something that costs $2? What if I just want to give it to you as a gift?"
Anyway, it was an unpleasant dream to have not long before waking up. I think that right after that, and just before waking up, I distracted myself by moving on to some clothing-related mini subplot.
Anyway, it was an unpleasant dream to have not long before waking up. I think that right after that, and just before waking up, I distracted myself by moving on to some clothing-related mini subplot.
Friday, November 6, 2009
regressing
I hesitated all day about posting this because I think it's an embarrassing thing to dream, but it's so random that I'm going to go ahead and do it.
I don't know what the occasion was, exactly, but I was at some kind of big event being held in a school gym. Whatever the event began as, it was transitioning into a dress-up social occasion of the sort held by religious schools that can't hold a dance. I was somewhat younger in the dream than I actually am, and not married; and there were a lot of people from my old high school, although most of them were just faceless extras (all older than high-school-aged, like me).
When I found out that the event was going to turn dressy I turned my attention to what I should wear for it. Although I don't remember the creative act, I found myself in a dress that I had whipped up on the spot*, out of peach-colored silk, floor-length, and late-80s style (fitted bodice with a "v" at the waist, puffy sleeves--it should be noted that I was skinnier than my actual self in the dream and such a dress actually fit me properly). I was surprised at how good it had turned out, but once I tried it on for fit I kind of ran out of steam on hemming the sleeves and skirt, and was just wearing it unfinished and over a pair of pants.
That's not the really embarrassing part, though. Around that time I started talking to a guy from my high school class who I apparently had a crush on**. He was being very cute/funny/charming, and he put his arm around me as he made silly comments about a washer and dryer we were looking at. What he was saying wasn't even registering because I was so excited that he had his arm around me. Then he made a comment about how we could have that washer in our house if we got married, or something joking-but-not-joking in that vein. Then he mentioned Oklahoma and I realized with a start that he was a big family person and that if we were to get married I would have to spend a lot of time there, possibly even live in Oklahoma, which really gave me pause.
Anyway. The embarrassing thing is, who has such adolescent dreams? The whole thing reads like a 7th-grader's diary! ("And then we were looking at washers and dryers and he put his arm around me! I think he likes me!") And I thought admitting to the Johnny Depp dream was embarrassing. I'm not going to be surprised if in tonight's dream some boy gives me a note saying, "Do you like me? Check yes or no."
*The event was in a cross between a gym and a Best Buy store, complete with merchandise in random places, including sewing machines and other home appliances.
**Thinking about it this morning, I realized that there may have been an actual mutual crush at the time, but I was too clueless to pick up on either side of it.
I don't know what the occasion was, exactly, but I was at some kind of big event being held in a school gym. Whatever the event began as, it was transitioning into a dress-up social occasion of the sort held by religious schools that can't hold a dance. I was somewhat younger in the dream than I actually am, and not married; and there were a lot of people from my old high school, although most of them were just faceless extras (all older than high-school-aged, like me).
When I found out that the event was going to turn dressy I turned my attention to what I should wear for it. Although I don't remember the creative act, I found myself in a dress that I had whipped up on the spot*, out of peach-colored silk, floor-length, and late-80s style (fitted bodice with a "v" at the waist, puffy sleeves--it should be noted that I was skinnier than my actual self in the dream and such a dress actually fit me properly). I was surprised at how good it had turned out, but once I tried it on for fit I kind of ran out of steam on hemming the sleeves and skirt, and was just wearing it unfinished and over a pair of pants.
That's not the really embarrassing part, though. Around that time I started talking to a guy from my high school class who I apparently had a crush on**. He was being very cute/funny/charming, and he put his arm around me as he made silly comments about a washer and dryer we were looking at. What he was saying wasn't even registering because I was so excited that he had his arm around me. Then he made a comment about how we could have that washer in our house if we got married, or something joking-but-not-joking in that vein. Then he mentioned Oklahoma and I realized with a start that he was a big family person and that if we were to get married I would have to spend a lot of time there, possibly even live in Oklahoma, which really gave me pause.
Anyway. The embarrassing thing is, who has such adolescent dreams? The whole thing reads like a 7th-grader's diary! ("And then we were looking at washers and dryers and he put his arm around me! I think he likes me!") And I thought admitting to the Johnny Depp dream was embarrassing. I'm not going to be surprised if in tonight's dream some boy gives me a note saying, "Do you like me? Check yes or no."
*The event was in a cross between a gym and a Best Buy store, complete with merchandise in random places, including sewing machines and other home appliances.
**Thinking about it this morning, I realized that there may have been an actual mutual crush at the time, but I was too clueless to pick up on either side of it.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
extreme changes of mood
I woke up in a great mood yesterday after dreaming several pleasant things (I don't think any of them involved Johnny Depp). The only thing I can really remember was that I had made a lot of headway on a freelance translation career and had been engaged to translate a real book, and a work of fiction at that! I was hopeful that this was going to be a launching pad for a specialization in translating fiction and that I would end up being one of those translators the merits of whose versions get debated in scholarly papers.
Last night's dream was awful. My husband and I had decided to take a little jaunt to Paris. I don't know where we were, but Paris was within driving distance. The only problem was that I wasn't dressed appropriately and couldn't figure out what to wear. I was very flustered and nothing was coming together, although I was pretty sure that my rose-colored turtleneck* needed to figure in somewhere. He got really annoyed really quickly and stormed out to drive away in the car because I was taking too long, ignoring my tearful entreaties to wait.
It turned out that he had only gone for a short drive because he was feeling antsy and didn't want to sit there while I had a closet meltdown, but it was still pretty harrowing. He came back after about 15 minutes, not mad at all, but I think I woke up before we could get to Paris.
*Notable because this is one of the very rare occasions when an item I actually own shows up in a getting-dressed dream.
Last night's dream was awful. My husband and I had decided to take a little jaunt to Paris. I don't know where we were, but Paris was within driving distance. The only problem was that I wasn't dressed appropriately and couldn't figure out what to wear. I was very flustered and nothing was coming together, although I was pretty sure that my rose-colored turtleneck* needed to figure in somewhere. He got really annoyed really quickly and stormed out to drive away in the car because I was taking too long, ignoring my tearful entreaties to wait.
It turned out that he had only gone for a short drive because he was feeling antsy and didn't want to sit there while I had a closet meltdown, but it was still pretty harrowing. He came back after about 15 minutes, not mad at all, but I think I woke up before we could get to Paris.
*Notable because this is one of the very rare occasions when an item I actually own shows up in a getting-dressed dream.
Monday, October 19, 2009
gross and racist?
I had the most weirdly detailed dream the other night. I was planning a trip to New York with my parents (weird in itself), and arranging everything beforehand online. I had arranged for several nights of lodging and several meals, and going back through and rechecking things to be sure everything was taken care of and made sense.
I realized that I had gone a little over budget and decided to pare some meals and just plan on eating them from street vendors. The one planned meal that I was really scrutinizing was a charity thing. It was a meal/presentation that demonstrated all kinds of elements of a program for poor kids in some African country. It was run by a very friendly looking middle-aged couple, and the more I looked at their website the more confused I got. There was a "menu" breaking down the experience into all possible components: actual meal, appetizers, craft session with children, presentation, etc. etc. etc. It was all itemized and I realized that if you went for the whole thing you could end up spending a fortune. Also, I wasn't sure my parents would want all that interaction instead of just a plain meal.
Another very weird thing is that twice lately I've dreamed of being confronted with scarily aggressive young Hispanic guys. I have no idea where this came from, not having had any scary encounters at all lately, much less with young Hispanic guys.
In the first dream I was in a "bad" section of town late at night. I was at a grocery store or something (I don't know how I'd gotten there) and learned while in the store that this part of town was reputed to be full of aggressive young guys and wasn't safe for single females. I more or less shrugged it off and went out a back entrance into an alley, where I was immediately set upon by young Hispanic guys. I don't know if they actually said anything, but they were doing threatening things like staring and fingering knives. It was really rather like a zombie movie in the way they converged out of nowhere.
I guess I made it out of there unscathed, because the next thing I can remember is being in a decrepit large building, something that seemed like an abandoned institution that had been taken over by squatters. I think part of it was a rundown YMCA. There were still some vaguely threatening young men, but there were also non-threatening people around too. One of my coworkers was there, showing me a large room she had bought. It was really interesting: very long and narrow, with some round columns holding up the ceiling, and tiled all over with square tiles of all different colors. She was planning on taking out the columns, and I wondered if that was a good idea, because they might be load-bearing.
In the next room over there was a bathroom, with sinks in one area and showers in another. The sinks had been [sorry, extreme grossness warning] crapped in, for lack of a more delicate term.
Then last night I had a rather confused dream in which I was trapped in an institution. I think it may have been loosely based on a 70s science fiction movie we saw recently. There was also an element of those thrift store dreams I have every so often, with a couple of rooms full of old stuff. I don't think it was a store, more of a giveaway with free old things. I was trying on some clothes when I realized that there were glass windows into an adjacent room and I was being ogled* by a bunch of very short Hispanic guys of varying ages**. I was really annoyed and embarrassed, and hunched down to finish my changing and got out of there quick.
I think part of the reason for the changing of clothes might not have been just an interest in old clothing; there was a subplot involving escaping with a fellow internee, but it's all a blur. It was fairly exciting, though I wish I could remember if we had made it out successfully.
*I mean really ogled--think of the most extreme stereotypical Ogle expression/sound effect, and you'll get the picture.
**What is with this? Am I a closet racist or something?
I realized that I had gone a little over budget and decided to pare some meals and just plan on eating them from street vendors. The one planned meal that I was really scrutinizing was a charity thing. It was a meal/presentation that demonstrated all kinds of elements of a program for poor kids in some African country. It was run by a very friendly looking middle-aged couple, and the more I looked at their website the more confused I got. There was a "menu" breaking down the experience into all possible components: actual meal, appetizers, craft session with children, presentation, etc. etc. etc. It was all itemized and I realized that if you went for the whole thing you could end up spending a fortune. Also, I wasn't sure my parents would want all that interaction instead of just a plain meal.
Another very weird thing is that twice lately I've dreamed of being confronted with scarily aggressive young Hispanic guys. I have no idea where this came from, not having had any scary encounters at all lately, much less with young Hispanic guys.
In the first dream I was in a "bad" section of town late at night. I was at a grocery store or something (I don't know how I'd gotten there) and learned while in the store that this part of town was reputed to be full of aggressive young guys and wasn't safe for single females. I more or less shrugged it off and went out a back entrance into an alley, where I was immediately set upon by young Hispanic guys. I don't know if they actually said anything, but they were doing threatening things like staring and fingering knives. It was really rather like a zombie movie in the way they converged out of nowhere.
I guess I made it out of there unscathed, because the next thing I can remember is being in a decrepit large building, something that seemed like an abandoned institution that had been taken over by squatters. I think part of it was a rundown YMCA. There were still some vaguely threatening young men, but there were also non-threatening people around too. One of my coworkers was there, showing me a large room she had bought. It was really interesting: very long and narrow, with some round columns holding up the ceiling, and tiled all over with square tiles of all different colors. She was planning on taking out the columns, and I wondered if that was a good idea, because they might be load-bearing.
In the next room over there was a bathroom, with sinks in one area and showers in another. The sinks had been [sorry, extreme grossness warning] crapped in, for lack of a more delicate term.
Then last night I had a rather confused dream in which I was trapped in an institution. I think it may have been loosely based on a 70s science fiction movie we saw recently. There was also an element of those thrift store dreams I have every so often, with a couple of rooms full of old stuff. I don't think it was a store, more of a giveaway with free old things. I was trying on some clothes when I realized that there were glass windows into an adjacent room and I was being ogled* by a bunch of very short Hispanic guys of varying ages**. I was really annoyed and embarrassed, and hunched down to finish my changing and got out of there quick.
I think part of the reason for the changing of clothes might not have been just an interest in old clothing; there was a subplot involving escaping with a fellow internee, but it's all a blur. It was fairly exciting, though I wish I could remember if we had made it out successfully.
*I mean really ogled--think of the most extreme stereotypical Ogle expression/sound effect, and you'll get the picture.
**What is with this? Am I a closet racist or something?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
packing and work stress
Right before I woke up I dreamed that I was on a trip with my husband and sister (maybe some other family members, but if so, not many). We were nearing the end of the trip and had to get our stuff packed up to go back home. We were in some kind of corporate conference-room-like place (middlebrow, not high-end) attached to a huge supermarket that was in turn in a mall. I guess we had been sleeping there, although there weren't any beds to be seen. My clothes had multiplied, and I had bought some things on the trip; there was no way I was going to get everything back in the suitcase, and I was stressed about it.
To further stress me, someone from my actual job came up and started telling me about the things she wanted me to buy at the supermarket. They were not necessary things at all, just things she happened to want, and I was irritated that she was asking for this when I was clearly busy (well, I was somewhat irritated that she was asking at all). I said, a bit too forcefully, "Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'll get it!" Then, alarmed by having shown my irritation so obviously, I tried to backpedal by adding, "I'm going to get one of those magnetic pads to put on the refrigerator too, so you guys can write down what you want on there."
Ugh.
To further stress me, someone from my actual job came up and started telling me about the things she wanted me to buy at the supermarket. They were not necessary things at all, just things she happened to want, and I was irritated that she was asking for this when I was clearly busy (well, I was somewhat irritated that she was asking at all). I said, a bit too forcefully, "Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'll get it!" Then, alarmed by having shown my irritation so obviously, I tried to backpedal by adding, "I'm going to get one of those magnetic pads to put on the refrigerator too, so you guys can write down what you want on there."
Ugh.
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.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Havin' Babies
I dreamed that I was pregnant accidentally. This dream wasn't about discovering the fact, though. The dream was about the very end of the pregnancy, when I was just about to have the baby. I was getting some warning pains and thought maybe we should go to the hospital. My boyfriend said he'd check (!!) and after taking a look, he said we had some time.
I went to change clothes before we left. [Aside: I'm proud of myself because I had a clothing-specific dream here, like some of the other contributors to this blog: Mandy, Strovska, Ceri.] I put on a combination of clothes that made me really happy in the dream: Jeans that were cut off around the knee area, calf-high brown leather boots, a green empire waisted shirt, a white chunky-knit cowl-necked cardigan. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that this outfit wasn't quite hospital-appropriate so I changed clothes into my usual jeans/t-shirt/hoody/sandals.
At this point, I was having some contractions, so we left for the hospital. Upon arriving, however, the pain sort of stopped and we were kind of confused. My boyfriend decided to go and get snacks for us. I was just kind of waiting around.
Throughout the dream, I kept seeing flashes of intertitles like the title boards in silent movies that show up between scenes to explain the action/dialog. Except in this dream, they were all cover pages from finding aids, which is what I'm writing at work. I saw these title pages as though they were appearing in MS Word (with blue background and everything).
Throughout the dream, I kept thinking about how this pregnancy was an accident, but it would all be ok because I could get a baby backpack. For some reason, that was helpful to imagine. All in all, I'm surprised by my completely calm acceptance of what I'm sure would be a terrifying situation for me.
I went to change clothes before we left. [Aside: I'm proud of myself because I had a clothing-specific dream here, like some of the other contributors to this blog: Mandy, Strovska, Ceri.] I put on a combination of clothes that made me really happy in the dream: Jeans that were cut off around the knee area, calf-high brown leather boots, a green empire waisted shirt, a white chunky-knit cowl-necked cardigan. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that this outfit wasn't quite hospital-appropriate so I changed clothes into my usual jeans/t-shirt/hoody/sandals.
At this point, I was having some contractions, so we left for the hospital. Upon arriving, however, the pain sort of stopped and we were kind of confused. My boyfriend decided to go and get snacks for us. I was just kind of waiting around.
Throughout the dream, I kept seeing flashes of intertitles like the title boards in silent movies that show up between scenes to explain the action/dialog. Except in this dream, they were all cover pages from finding aids, which is what I'm writing at work. I saw these title pages as though they were appearing in MS Word (with blue background and everything).
Throughout the dream, I kept thinking about how this pregnancy was an accident, but it would all be ok because I could get a baby backpack. For some reason, that was helpful to imagine. All in all, I'm surprised by my completely calm acceptance of what I'm sure would be a terrifying situation for me.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
colorful dresses and makeup mishaps
I had yet another dream where I was picking out clothes and trying to get ready. I was at my parents' house, and I was supposed to be participating somehow with my sister in the church service at my parents' church*. I guess I hadn't packed any appropriate clothing, because I was looking through the closet in my sister's old room. There was a huge selection of dresses, so huge that they were stored on one of those rotating racks like at a drycleaner's. I could tell that most of the clothes had been found at thrift stores. They were all really interesting, with a lot of prints and unusual color combinations. Some of them were overtly "ethnic" and others not, but they all managed to be unusual while still being very wearable and not too weird or cutesy. I was really impressed that she had amassed such a huge collection of interesting clothes, and ended up spending too much time browsing. I finally settled on a black dress** and realized I hadn't left much time for the rest of my preparations.
At that point I looked in the mirror and realized that I looked better than I would have thought given my lack of cosmetics, and also that I was a very young-looking Asian girl with bangs. Apparently my sister was also Asian, and she looked much older and more sophisticated. I worried that, especially if I didn't have time for much cosmetic work, people would think we were mother and daughter.
I guess I had time to start on the cosmetic work, because the last thing I remember was putting a mascara wand back into a bottle of makeup because I was in a hurry and being frustrated that I had probably messed up both products.
I think it's weird that I have these clothing/preparation dreams so often. I love the clothing parts and wish I could remember the details when I wake up; the preparation parts I could do without, though. I wish I could come up with an interpretation for them that doesn't point to unhealthy appearance anxiety.
*That reminds me that I periodically have dreams where I'm supposed to play the piano for their church (something that happened a lot growing up) but haven't prepared anything and am trying to figure out how to muddle through. These dreams feature a weird combination of performance anxiety and hubristic overconfidence that I'll just be able to improvise something baroque-y.
**Why did I choose something black, with all the beautiful colored and printed options?
At that point I looked in the mirror and realized that I looked better than I would have thought given my lack of cosmetics, and also that I was a very young-looking Asian girl with bangs. Apparently my sister was also Asian, and she looked much older and more sophisticated. I worried that, especially if I didn't have time for much cosmetic work, people would think we were mother and daughter.
I guess I had time to start on the cosmetic work, because the last thing I remember was putting a mascara wand back into a bottle of makeup because I was in a hurry and being frustrated that I had probably messed up both products.
I think it's weird that I have these clothing/preparation dreams so often. I love the clothing parts and wish I could remember the details when I wake up; the preparation parts I could do without, though. I wish I could come up with an interpretation for them that doesn't point to unhealthy appearance anxiety.
*That reminds me that I periodically have dreams where I'm supposed to play the piano for their church (something that happened a lot growing up) but haven't prepared anything and am trying to figure out how to muddle through. These dreams feature a weird combination of performance anxiety and hubristic overconfidence that I'll just be able to improvise something baroque-y.
**Why did I choose something black, with all the beautiful colored and printed options?
Friday, June 5, 2009
swimming contest
The setting for this dream was the default group/institution setting, kind of a cross between a short-term academic program and summer camp. I think everyone, including me, was a teenager, although it didn't register as being a change in age.
The only thing I remember very well is that the people in charge were organizing an athletic contest. Apparently this was a tradition for the group, and the centerpiece of the tradition was a long-distance, cold-weather swimming contest. The location was at the edge of a lake or maybe the ocean, in a Scandinavian-like climate. I think it might have been winter to boot--at least it wasn't summery, and the water was very cold.
The adults in charge of the contest were gathering people up to participate, and when they came to me they insinuated that it wasn't a big deal, something they had done for years, and not even all that difficult. I must have signed myself up, because when they came around on subsequent rounds they asked if I was getting ready for the competition. I tried to find out more about it and began to realize that I might not want to do it after all. Every time the sign-up lady came out with another informational tidbit about it it sounded more daunting. I had just assumed that we were supposed to wear swimsuits, but then she mentioned that we should wear at least two swimsuits, and probably socks. I looked down and realized that I was wearing a pea-green competition-style suit over a darker green retro halter suit with shirring. I kind of liked them both, especially the retro one, and wondered vaguely where I had gotten them*.
It had gotten near enough to the race time that people were lining up at the edge of the dock (in all kinds of weird clothing combinations), and I was getting a little apprehensive. The organizer lady came around again, and asked me if I was sure I wanted to compete. I asked what the distance was and she hemmed and hawed, but then said that it would be about an hour and a half of swimming in frigid water. I said, "Oh, in that case I'd better not. I could swim for an hour and a half, but I couldn't compete for an hour and a half." I think I was also wanting to put on some regular clothes by that time, and picturing young competitors dropping off mid-race and sinking slowly to a watery grave. The organizer was fine with my withdrawal, and I thought the staff were displaying a weird and irresponsible mix of cavalier disregard for safety on one hand and a stifling tendency to assume my incapacity on the other.
There was another part of the dream involving a very nifty old house in the middle of the desert that had been converted into a restaurant/museum and was supposedly haunted; and an episode involving rapidly rising floodwater about which I was very unconcerned--but I don't remember much about either.
*oddly, I didn't wonder why I was in good enough shape to be wandering around unselfconsciously in a swimsuit, or swimsuits, as the case may be.
The only thing I remember very well is that the people in charge were organizing an athletic contest. Apparently this was a tradition for the group, and the centerpiece of the tradition was a long-distance, cold-weather swimming contest. The location was at the edge of a lake or maybe the ocean, in a Scandinavian-like climate. I think it might have been winter to boot--at least it wasn't summery, and the water was very cold.
The adults in charge of the contest were gathering people up to participate, and when they came to me they insinuated that it wasn't a big deal, something they had done for years, and not even all that difficult. I must have signed myself up, because when they came around on subsequent rounds they asked if I was getting ready for the competition. I tried to find out more about it and began to realize that I might not want to do it after all. Every time the sign-up lady came out with another informational tidbit about it it sounded more daunting. I had just assumed that we were supposed to wear swimsuits, but then she mentioned that we should wear at least two swimsuits, and probably socks. I looked down and realized that I was wearing a pea-green competition-style suit over a darker green retro halter suit with shirring. I kind of liked them both, especially the retro one, and wondered vaguely where I had gotten them*.
It had gotten near enough to the race time that people were lining up at the edge of the dock (in all kinds of weird clothing combinations), and I was getting a little apprehensive. The organizer lady came around again, and asked me if I was sure I wanted to compete. I asked what the distance was and she hemmed and hawed, but then said that it would be about an hour and a half of swimming in frigid water. I said, "Oh, in that case I'd better not. I could swim for an hour and a half, but I couldn't compete for an hour and a half." I think I was also wanting to put on some regular clothes by that time, and picturing young competitors dropping off mid-race and sinking slowly to a watery grave. The organizer was fine with my withdrawal, and I thought the staff were displaying a weird and irresponsible mix of cavalier disregard for safety on one hand and a stifling tendency to assume my incapacity on the other.
There was another part of the dream involving a very nifty old house in the middle of the desert that had been converted into a restaurant/museum and was supposedly haunted; and an episode involving rapidly rising floodwater about which I was very unconcerned--but I don't remember much about either.
*oddly, I didn't wonder why I was in good enough shape to be wandering around unselfconsciously in a swimsuit, or swimsuits, as the case may be.
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