As silly as it may sound for a woman with a science background, I’ve always subscribed to the idea that dreams are more than just the flotsam and jetsam that floats around in the subconscious mind. I’ve even had some memorable ones that I believe were premonitions of events that later occurred…..like the time I dreamed that one of my kittens got stuck in the freezer.
At the time, Will and I had a refrigerator whose freezer was on the bottom, and the door kept popping open so we used duct tape to keep it closed. This method was unreliable, as the resulting ice buildup would force the door open no matter how strong the tape; but since the landlord wouldn’t fix it, we had no other options. Sure enough, when I woke from the dream and heard meowing, I went to the kitchen to investigate and found the kitty standing in the freezer with his poor little paws glued to the ice.
So I wasn’t happy when I awoke from this afternoon’s feature, in which I was in some mental-health facility because I was full-on manic and couldn’t control myself. In the dream I kept racing back and forth between the two bathrooms in the place, unable to decide where I wanted to shower, so I put some of my shampoo and foo-foo stuff in the pink bathroom and the rest in the green one. Then I finally decided on the pink, and as I stepped into the shower some old guy (I’m assuming a male patient) peeked around the curtain and began to make suggestive remarks.
As I undoubtedly would if I’d actually been in such a situation, I cursed the fellow roundly and threatened him with the loss of a certain set of appendages. Whereupon he shut the curtain and said “Oh well, you’re not that good-looking anyways” before walking offstage. That pissed me off even more, so I called him a few more choice names and then ran for the other shower, where I’m assuming I finished up my ablutions because I woke up at that point.
Well, OK, I don’t REALLY know what (if anything) the dream might portend, but I can definitely find some symbolism in it. I think the act of running back and forth between shower rooms represents the dichotomy between the two mood states I’ve been experiencing of late, with my overreaction to the old guy’s catcalls reflecting my agitation and general hostility. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the meaning in being confined to an institution when I’m feeling so claustrophobic and trapped in my waking life.
Even so, I’m doing a bit better today. The session with Dr. A had its usual soothing effects and I got a good night’s sleep, although I had a few anxious tears before I slipped into slumber. As much as I hate to acknowledge it (Dr. A said “the trouble is that medically, you know too much”) I am scared shitless about Will’s cancer having spread to his bones. Every time he grunts or groans I’m afraid he’s fracturing something. But he continues to be active, cooks breakfast and dinner, walks the dog, works on his models, and generally enjoys his life.
I can’t spoil that for him.
So I try to put on a brave face, and then I have these vivid dreams in which I find myself in distressing circumstances and work so hard to fight my way out that when I wake up, I’m almost as tired as if I’ve actually done it. And then I have the nerve to be shocked when my illness comes roaring out of hibernation.
Hmmm. Maybe that was the purpose of this dream: to teach me that while I can control some of life’s minor details, I am NOT in charge…..and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.
Guess I’ll have to chew that one over for a while. And unlike Dr. A’s crocodile meat, it sure as hell doesn’t taste like chicken.