Wednesday, February 16, 2005

These dreams

I have some fucked up dreams.

There's no other way to say it. I've had the usual dreams- naked dreams (naked at school, naked at Wal-Mart, naked at Church), flying dreams (flying like a bird, flying like a fairy, flying really, really high, man- wait, that one was real...), screwing dreams (screwing someone you want to screw, like a movie star or your boyfriend or your girlfriend, and screwing someone you definitely don't want to screw, like your mom/dad/favorite furry animal).

But I also have some very unusual dreams. A recent selection includes a series of dreams in which I was traveling with my boss' boss (our VP). They weren't sex dreams at all, but implicit in the dream was that we were traveling as intimate companions, even though we are both happily ensconsed in relationships and have children. One of these dreams involved visiting a nightclub/zoo at which we saw tiny baby monkeys the size of your thumbnail get scattered like so many marbles and a foot-long flying green worm with dark spectacles and a top hat who delighted in attacking me by air whle everyone else laughed uproariously.

Lots of my dreams end with everyone else in the dream having a great deal of fun at my expense. I think I'm a little paranoid about people not liking me. After being married to someone whose chief thrill in life seemed to be to criticize everything about me, this is not a shock. However, in his defense, I have to say, I had that issue before we met. He just developed it. And even after being involved in other relationships, friendly and romantic, in which I felt loved and safe and appreciated and interesting and not completely stupid, ugly, inane and irrelevant, I still apparently can't shake this fear of being completely unlovable. Perhaps, deep down, I'll always feel inadequate, unworthy of affection, liable to be abandoned at any moment by those I love most, just as my parents abandoned me physically and emotionally in my childhood.

On the other hand, maybe psychoanalysis of dreams is all bunk. Maybe dreams are just psychic waste and waking up is like flushing the crapper, except I obviously have a problem with my flapper, because my shit keeps swirling around in my bowl instead of washing away.

Or maybe I just think way too much.


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