My dreams understand me even if I don't always understand them.
In college, I read lots of books about dreams and dream interpretations. Of course, at the time, I was supposed to be reading History of Western Civilization and Practice and Theory of Economics. But I was doing lots of stuff I wasn't suppose to be doing.
Carl Jung's approach to dreams seemed to make the most sense to me, but I didn't always understand him either.
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I think my dreams are my subconscious's gift to my conscious. A window through which my Ego can be a peeping tom while my Id takes a bath and dances naked. Sometimes, just maybe, I can look all the way through that house of dreams to the window on the other side and see an image or two of the collective subsconscious...or maybe God? Way too deep for me!
My dreams and I are on very friendly terms. Like my human friends, I am very familiar with them but don't understand them. I mostly try to just accept them as they are. We give each other gifts. I try to express my esteem for them by remembering them. They give me all sorts of gifts, some of which are packaged to nicely to open.
Last night my dream just showered me with a torrent of what I've been missing the last couple of weeks. No, not sex. Although there was, I admit, a little of that as well. For the last couple of weeks, I've been lost in spreadsheets, business plans, management problems so all last night I got to hang out with a great group of creative artists, actors and musicians.
I got to do hilarious improvisational comedy with Meryl Streep. I got to play dueling banjos with Steve Martin and he was very patient with me since I didn't play much better in my dreams than I do in real life. We were in this marvelous loft with a view of the New York skyline during an incredible sunset. Our host, who owned the loft, was a large, heavy, bearded gent -- sort of how I imagine Bagman -- and he built his own guitars and had a fantastic collection of Chinese ceramics and Renaissance tools.
There wasn't a single damned politician in the place.
And Meryl Streep was younger and smelled better than I expected. It was very refreshing.
I wonder if my banjo is still in the back of the closet.
I'd like to visit the loft with you too please!
ReplyDeleteI am also a Jung fan but these days I'm discovering playing again .. on Easter Monday I even went to a James Taylor and Carole King Concert at the Sydney Entertainment Centre and I'm STILL SINGING ... I have the guitar out too.
Wow, I wish I had your dreams. I rarely remember mine anymore. I used to work hard at remembering, but now I just let them flow. I was one of those kids in college who actually read all the stupid books and regret that I didn't have more fun.
ReplyDeleteI dreamt that my car was careening out of control backwards down over a hill. Humph!
ReplyDeleteQuite an escape from the mundane. I read this twice and am sure that I still did not catch all the little nuggets. Will be back with my first coffee of the day.
ReplyDeleteGreat dream!
ReplyDeleteI almost look forward to going to bed to discover what I will dream each night. Like you, I meet all kinds of interesting characters.
Honoring our dreams does seem to ensure we will recall more of them.
Interesting post. I'm really into finding out explanations about dreams. There are too many theories about it. Last term, I was studying Theories of Personality, reason why I got interested. It's hard to understand Jung, Adler, Freud, and many more.
ReplyDeleteI wish Meryl Streep somehow creeps up to my dreams later. I'm totally a fan of her. Last time I saw her very young was in Manhattan with Woody Allen.
Wow what a great dream. And illustrated with some cool photos, also very dreamy! Looking down the stairwell makes me swoon.
ReplyDeleteI envy you your dreams. No one famous ever come to visit me in mine.
ReplyDeleteIn fact, like Tabor, I seldom remember my dreams, and when I do they just confuse me.
I'm glad Meryl Streep smelled good, I always thought she would.
My dreams are a lot like yours: gifts from the subconscious mind. My waking life has lots of politicians in it, so they leave me alone at night. I'm a media hermit, so actors/celebrities rarely appear. I'm more apt to meet students, my parents and ancestors, or authors of books I've read (Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hahn, etc.) in my dream life. As far as I can remember, I don't remember smelling anyone in my dreams. I wonder if I will tonight.... thanks for that, Mark. They better smell good, like Meryl Streep.
ReplyDeleteYes it is. And yes too, I'm so very grateful I don't remember mine.
ReplyDeleteAfter I asked for guidance on next steps, I dreamed that I was in the role of protector, the guard who watched over and safeguarded. Within hours, I stumbled across a web seminar offered by Sounds True/Clarissa Pinkola Estes about Dangerous Old Women, who she defines as protectors, women who know their truth and stand in it. I don't think it was merely coincidence.
ReplyDeleteDarn, now I feel inadequate. Why can't I remember my dreams? I'm sure they are terrific. Don't ask me how I know but I'm convinced Sean Connery smells as good as he looks, so believe you about Meryl Streep. So good to have a blog of yours back!
ReplyDeleteI rarely remember mine, maybe that is on purpose though!
ReplyDeletelove the last two shots.
your dreams are very interesting, must be fun to be in one!
What? Dorothea was not invited?
ReplyDeleteGlad you are back, even in your dream state. We will take you however we can get you.
Dang...you have better dreams than I do!!!!
ReplyDeleteWhat an awesome dream!!! And thanks for reminding me to write down my own dream! Dreamt someone at Pixar had bought up my entire painting collection and based on that they also hired me to work there! And then the da--ed neighbor's cat woke me up. Da--!!!!!
ReplyDeleteLove the pic of the stairwell!
ReplyDeleteI wish I understood my dreams. And that they involved Meryl Streep and a banjo - sounds like fun ;-)
I really like this one, and laughed out loud at the peeping tom on the Id notion. Very funny--I love your blog (and photographs).
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