“Ophelia,” by John William Waterhouse (1889)
Since I’m always writing about my dreams, I decided to create a page on which I would record some of my more bizarre or memorable dreams. I’ll identify the dreams by date, with the most recent being listed first. I doubt that anyone else will find this page interesting, but what better place to write about my nocturnal visions than on this blog.
If anyone does happen upon this page and has any thoughts, please share them with me.
June 6, 2010
Last night, I had a very intense dream. By intense, I mean, that I felt it physically and emotionally. I dreamt that Corey and I were in the Trooper, and the Trooper broke down on the interstate. Corey didn’t seem too concerned, but I was very distressed. I said, “You don’t seem to understand. If I’m late for work again, I could lose my job. And then where will we be?”
I decided to walk to Virginia Beach, over 20 miles away. I decided to walk on the Interstate because that would be safer. I started walking, and then noticed that two men were behind me. Corey was farther back, behind the two men. He caught up to me, and the two of us began to walk faster. I was getting tired. The two men walked faster. Then we were running, and they were running behind us. They followed us into some woods.
Then the dream shifts, and I am walking alone on the interstate. I realize that the interstate is going to be longer in distance, so I decide to walk along Virginia Beach Blvd., a major artery. To get there I walk below an overpass instead of over it. I have to jump from rock to rock to get to the other side. Then there is construction. A man looks down and sees me and asks me what I am doing there. One of the construction workers helps me to climb onto a beam. Then I lose my memory.
I cannot remember anything. The man who saw me takes me inside the office. He is very concerned. He is an older man, and I seem to know him. At least, I am comforted by his presence. I look out the office window and ask if that is Virginia Beach Blvd. outside. No one is quite sure. The man tells me that he is going to Human Resources to see what they can do. I hear a noise, and he comes back with a bloody nose. I ask him what happened, and he says that nothing happened. I ask him if he is sick, but he won’t meet my eyes. I realize that the only person who care about me and my lost memory is sick and going to die.
Then the dream shifts, and I am at the realty office, only it is a big office. I am wearing a suit and pumps and talking on a cell phone, but it is my very first cell phone, and it is huge. I am talking to the receptionist as I walk towards the front of the office. I tell her that I am going to be late. I ask her to tell my boss. She names a woman, and I say not her, my boss, Donna. The woman who I don’t want to know overhears me and starts yelling at me about being late. I tell her that I had car trouble, that the car blew up. She still yells at me.
May 29, 2010
I dreamed that someone was trying to choke me, I mean really choke me. At first, the hand was Corey’s, but then the hand changed, and part of it was metal. I stopped fighting in an attempt to surprise my attacker and tried to get my hands under his hands. I could not. They were too strong.
May 1, 2010
This sequence of dreams is mostly gone in my memory already, but what I do remember is an episode that took place in a men’s prison. Somehow, another woman and I were hiding in the cell of a man we knew. We were there because there was a secret chamber in the wall, and we needed to place pieces of paper into the chamber, and then something would happen. I don’t remember what, exactly. We were going to do this and then sneak out of the cell, but then a fight broke out between two prisoners, and we had to make our escape early. I remember running in a stairwell.
Then in another part of the dream, a man I used to date at the newspaper was at my mother’s house. He was looking at a portrait of Alexis. My mother had told him about my daughter, and he wanted to see her. I took him aside and asked why he was really there. He told me that he had already been to visit 40 people, and I was one of the stops on his way. It was if he were on some kind of specific journey. He said that he had things to tell me.
Maybe the dreams were about secrets and information to be revealed.
April 29, 2010
Last night was whacky. I dreamed that I was caught in this carnival, and I had to go through this thing like an obstacle course to get out. There were moving stairs, a long tube that I was supposed to crawl through, but I found a way to get on top and just slid down the tube, some kind of metal gadget that I needed to crawl through that shook as you moved forward. There was no way to turn back or just quit. Alexis was going through with me.
Then after I finished the course, Brett was there, and he was young again, and he wanted to go bowling, but I told him that I was exhausted from the obstacle course.
Don’t need to be Freud to understand that one.
April 25, 2010
“Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.” ~ William Dement
In this dream, Corey and I need to go somewhere, but he has begun to paint the kitchen. I am very frustrated because I am ready to go, and he decides that he needs to pain another wall. I go outside to get the car, and someone else jumps in the car, drives it around the block, then parks it outside the door. I get to the car just as Corey is coming outside, and he asks why I have moved the car. When I try to explain that someone else moved it, he looks at me questioningly.
We are driving, and our route requires us to make a complex turn onto the interstate. Corey pulls forward and then turns the truck (it’s now a truck) around to face the on ramp. Other cars behind us are maneuvering in the same way, but two state troopers on motorcycles get behind us. I tell Corey that they are going to pull us over right as their red lights turn on. Corey gets out of the truck, and I sit there and put on my makeup. When he comes back, I ask him what kind of ticket they gave him, and he says that it’s something about letting your wheels get on the grass.
I reach over and take the ticket from him, and he tells me that the one officer was very rude and kept making comments about his background. Then I look on the ticket, and the officer has made personal comments on the ticket about the driver being no good and blaming the erratic driver on his Filipino wife. Then I see that the officers had given Corey a Rorsach test and that his answers are only acceptable for half of the ink blots. This concerns me more than the ticket.
I tell Corey that we should just turn around and go back home, but we keep driving until the interstate ends in this town. We get lost looking for a movie theater. Then I wake up.