Tag Archives: dreams

Cruel to be Kind

2 Nov

nyc_realSometimes my subconscious presents very clear instructions. Last evening, it treated me to a romantic comedy. I was hanging out with David Rees, my real-life acquaintance/celebrity crush. The setting and occasion were standards for my dreams: a convoluted hotel, a wedding, and me with a plane to catch and a bag to pack.

After waking, a replay of the events from my slumber revealed a new bit of knowledge woven between the old scenic standbys. Desperate for the approval of deadpan, disaffected Rees, I spoke to him in my own version of that emotionally disconnected banter. “Yeah, it’s my friends’ wedding. Yeah, I’m the maid of honor.” Said with a shrug, even though I was giddy about every bit of this information. He reacted with affected lack of intrigue, requiring me to hold up both ends of the conversation.

As I spiraled ever deeper into an unimpressive diminishment of my achievements and emotions, he made less eye contact and through his actions made plain his indifference. He worked for the hotel, and wore a cheap suit with a bad name badge, and yet here I was, prostrate, eagerly trying to lower myself so he might consider me a worthy candidate for his affections.

nyc_dreamMy closest friends would roll their eyes at this Jungian romp through my romantic tribulations. But I’m really proud to say that as I replayed the dream this morning, my mind pushed forward a recent memory that was the antidote to my stupidity. A recent dinner at a cozy Spanish restaurant with my earnest Bostonian friend was the real-life scene of an occasion where a warm and open conversation played out. I was giddy, girly, and free to display all the dimensions of my wit and personality. I felt my companion become more entranced in my more endearing qualities, and saw him smile fawningly whenever my quirk reached maximum potential.

I wasn’t performing for this guy. I didn’t feel constrained or exaggeratedly animated to correct for his apathy. Instead, I felt embraced, understood. I was real. He liked the real me. And it was real life, not a dream. What a relief.

Utter Desiccation

22 Dec

I dreamt it so much worse than it really was. It was one of those horrible iPhone dreams, where your constant use of same has entered the permanent vocabulary of your subconscious. The screen filled with words redundant to a previous missive, but this time they were excessively harsh in their assertion of the same facts previously reported.

I was what only the English have properly defined as “gutted”, feeling the pit of my stomach inflect at the assault. As in all of my dreams, there was meanwhile a barrage of activity all around me, so my realization and pain were immediately hidden beneath a socially acceptable exterior.

Lending others, specifically men, the power to validate or strip me of worthiness is a specialty of mine. Classic Freudian stuff, of course. But I guess that doesn’t make it any less prominent in my experience.

Every time my subconscious loans me a bit of favor in my dreams, it’s always with a short and tenuous lease. A man falls desperately in love with me just before I leave for the airport. Or if he has loved me in the past, he reappears to eradicate that approval. Better yet, men who seem to love me in real life suddenly unravel that security completely.

It’s astounding that in my waking life I smile and smile, and make good friends, and rarely experience rejection except at my own hands, and in my imagination. Is there any proof that the subconscious can also bolster our spirits? I suppose I’ve had one dream earlier this year which did just that—I was in New York City and meeting a whole bunch of people who were changing my life positively, and then I confidently tried to hail a cab in the rain (impossible, as you might know). That was months before I made the move in real life, and yet it appears to be a verifiable premonition.

Dear inner soul, how about some more positive programming?

 

Tense Theme Playing

1 Apr

I had a premonition months and months ago, when this new city was still friendless and my mattress was on the floor. Dreamt it one night, so low to the ground, but waking up so sure. “I want to do everything to take care of you in this world.” Maybe that’s why it felt like twin-firing synapses when he said in real life, “You deserve to have every inch of you kissed every single day.”

So centered in soul, imagined or real he speaks without artifice or hesitation. Even when he grumbles, his resoluteness draws me in. There are absolutely no ulterior motives, and every word weighs exactly what each syllable metes out. This is why the intimacy feels so light, so obvious.

When he says Monday is his day to catch up, his day off, you will learn to really let him evaporate. Except when you are near, then you can wrap arm ’round chest and doze identically until leafblowers wake us and we drown (see Prufrock, J. Alfred).

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