If you think hearing about other people's dreams is drop-dead boring, then stop reading right now. I respect that. Or, if you judge people severely based on the fucked-upedness of their dreams, please, moveon.org.
Me, I think dreams (anyone's) are utterly fascinating. They are so wild and interesting and intriguing. Inevitably, one goes into analysis mode. I remember reading one of self-congratulatory but decent writer Chuck Klosterman's entries in "Sex, Drugs and Prozac". He has these little interstitial pieces between the essays that are quite entertaining. One of them suggested a question: What if there was a way to replay your dreams on a screen, and you could watch them, but ONLY on the condition that your friends and family also watch them with you. Would you do it?
Hell, no.
I've been having creepy, scary, disturbing, highly strange dreams for awhile now. I can't quite trace this back to any particular date or event. Could it have been when I started dipping in early March? Could it be that I'm menstruating 75% of the time? (And shouldn't it be womenstruating? Because you know, if men got the curse, there'd be free personal hygiene products on every street corner. Can you imagine He Who Shall Not Be Named with PMS? Total shitshow.)
Or...could the high weirdness quotient be due to the meds I'm taking for my recent series of motherfucking migraines?
I don't know. It probably doesn't matter. But they've gotten pretty weird. I mean, they were always wierd. I rarely have ever had a good dream. But these ones are some next level shit. There tend to be recurring themes. Often, I'm back in undergrad. I am forced to live next door to my nemesis, the girl who slept with my boyfriend, (and pretty much everyone else's, but I digress). I am forced to drink myself pickled every night, like I did back when I was a lost and fucked up pseudo-adult. I never have a schedule for the classes I am meant to be attending, and I never know where my next class is, and I'm always late. Or I just skip. Freudians, start your engines.
The most recent one that I can remember has to do with being caught up in a gang war in someone's house, and I decide to flee in the night so as not to get shot or taken captive. My teenage son is there, and he decides to stay and fight, and I can't convince him to flee with me. (I don't know where the rest of my family is. I did have this dream while they were on a weeklong trip, so perhaps that's why they don't make an appearance.) So I flee in the night, but I can't see fuck all, and it's dangerous to walk along the road, and there are other people on the road I can't see, who are also dangerous, and I've left my beloved son in a war zone and am trying to go, where? I have no idea. Why? Again, I just don't know. My dreams never have clear answers.
I'm pretty sure another one of them was about an apocalypse of some sort. The end of the world is kind of a recurring thing in my dreams of late. In this one, I think I'm on some kind of Hunger Games-esque situation where I'm being held captive, forced to do horrible things, and then told I "win", when in fact, I am left utterly alone and abandoned, with no resources and no hope.
Such fun.
The thing about these dreams is that sometimes I'll wake up, feel awful, go pee, come back to bed, fall back to sleep, and keep on dreaming these nightmares. It sucks. I mean, do I really need a sequel to these fuckers?
The details are usually vague, but I remember elements, and the essence: They're all horrible.
What do they mean? Am I lost and confused? No more than usual. In fact, I would argue that lately, I'm less lost than I have been in a long time.
Am I alone? Again, I don't think so. I have more friends now than I've had in years. This whole living in one place for more than a year and a half is kind of awesome.
Is the one about my son separating from me because he's getting older and more independent? That's a reasonable analysis.
Are these dreams metaphors for my mental illnesses? Possibly. One does tend to feel isolated, alone, and a bit tortured, but nobody likes to talk about that in mixed company. And when I say "mixed", I mean, most people. (I'm lucky: I have a few friends who are able to listen to my story, not judge it, and be super kind.)
I don't go to therapy anymore. I spent decades in therapy. There's only so far you can go until you know yourself, know how to take care of yourself, know when to ask for help, know what meds work for you, know how to live the most successful life in spite of challenging chemistry. A therapist would no doubt have insights for me about these dreams. But the point of therapy is to learn to become your own therapist. I've read enough self-help books to sink a Carnival Cruise ship, and really, what have I learned? Life has its ups and downs, this too shall pass, take time for yourself, meditate, pray, chill, acknowledge your feelings, stay active, stay social, don't be a dick. The rest is just window dressing.
So, I don't really know what to make of my recent spate of disturbing (and lengthy) dreams.
But if you've read this far, then you're probably analyzing them, too.
Have at it. I'm open to interpretation.
You can tell me yours.
I promise not to judge.
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