NIGHTMARES!
Two nights ago I had a nightmare....just a symbol perhaps of how I see my life at the moment? The nightmare took place in the house where I grew up. The nightmare involved some sort of military invasion. The house is in the country and although not isolated it is about a quarter of a mile to the nearest house. There were planes flying overhead and men parachuting out of the planes..the men were all in uniform and all carrying weapons. Was Canada under invasion...and by whom..was it the Americans or the Russians? What could they possibly want from our house in a small rural area? I was at home with the family, it was night, we were awoken by the noiose of the planes. We did not turn on any lights so that the house would not attract any attention. There was fear in the house of the bad guys coming to get us; would they take us as hostage or kill us? We began to cover the windows with the dark green/black plastic garbage bags so no one could see in the house and if we turned on the lights they would not be visible from the outside. Then we all went to the basement to hide...and that is all I remember...what happened???? It brought back memories of when I was a kid...I had three recurring type of dreams...one that I was flying...love those...and even got a thrill when I feel from the sky only to realize I had landed with a jerk of my body on the mattress. The other type of dream was that I was always trying to go somewhere or dial a phone number and I was always late or could never complete the call. Things kept happening to keep me from getting somewhere or I could never dial the phone number correctly, I would constantly make mistakes and get no where( Perhaps my life at the moment?). And finally the third type of dream was of the threat of military invasions brought on by the nuclear war threats of the early 60's and the practice drills in grade one of taking protection under our school desks...like that would protect anyone????
Today my dreams seem more varied and while I remember them first thing in the morning, if I don't make note of it or write it down...they soon disappear from my memory. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to dream about nice things such as flying when I wanted or being with someone special?
Is there anyone out there to analyze my dreams??
Why do I write here...no one but two people read this site regularly. Do I offer people anything on this site besides a look into my somewhat strange life and thoughts? I suppose it is all for my personal benefit...an outlet of sorts.
Two nice things happened recently...last night I got a call from PM, it seemed so long since we last talked...it was wonderful...I enjoyed it..and I treasure it. Today my brother sent me an email as he heard I had a job interview yesterday. This was nice as I am not particularity close to my family emotionally and it was so sweet to get his words of encouragement...perhaps we all mellow a bit with age?
If anyone out there reads this site, please post a comment, you can do it anonymously..just interested in what you might think.
posted by A guy @ Wednesday, December 15, 2004
1 Comments:
At 4:48 a.m.,
Chameleon said…
The meaning of dreams has preoccupied humanity probably since we began to communicate in language with a whole array of experts claiming a monopoly over interpretation (initially priests, now psychologists, reflecting the move from religious to scientific authority). Your fascinating entry stirred up many memories. I too used to dream about flying (I suspect everyone has taken to the air nocturnally at some stage). I would have to concentrate very hard to overcome the constraints of gravity and probability and never seemed to rise above tree top level. Mostly I floated sedately just out of reach (and always there were arms grabbing at me to haul me down), arms outstretched. After a while, I would always tire and slowly sink until my feet touched the pavement again. On very rare occasions, I might soar higher, but only if I had started from the top of a skyscraper or a cliff and pushed myself over the edge as if in a swimming pool. Again, as long as my focus did not waver I was able to control the rate of descent (though I never plummeted). For many years before I learned to drive, I would climb into a car, turn the key in the ignition and work the gears (a skill I have never acquired, my license valid for automatics only) instinctively. I knew what to do without ever having done it before. The worst recurring nightmare I ever had, which left me in a cold sweat with monotonous regularity during my teenage years, involved me being accused of a murder I did not commit. Sentenced to death, I hoped in vain for a reprieve in my straw-littered, comfortless cell. My appeals were rejected: I was culpable in the eyes of my judges. On the day before my execution, I would be visited by relatives and friends, all of whom urged me to change my plea as there was at least a chance of pardon if I would only admit to my guilt. One by one they begged and cajoled, but I could not convince them of my innocence. My Mother and Father were always followed by my then boyfriend, the last person to plead with me before I was led away (and jolted awake). The terror came not from the prospect of imminent death, but from my inability to persuade those who allegedly loved me most that I had done no wrong. The only other bad dream that tormented me year after year centred on my phobia of the telephone. I would be at home in P, and I would hear it ringing downstairs in the hall. For some reason neither my parents nor my brother ever responded to its shrill, insistent sound. I would switch on the light and pick up the receiver (it was always the old-fashioned black bakelite variety of phone) and listen, rooted to the spot, afflicted by the strange paralysis characteristic of such ordeals. An evil male voice would claim that he could see my every move and then assail my ears with an unending stream of obscenities.
I empathise completely with the sense of frustration you express at the lack of a readership. Although I have the great good fortune to know that I have two appreciative regulars apart from yourself I feel a pang of envy when I see that Petite Anglaise receives about 35 comments a day regardless of subject matter. You certainly deserve a bigger audience. When I have access to a computer I check your blog several times a day and I look forward to your writing, not just because you are my friend and I have the privilege of knowing you personally, but because your accounts of life are witty and intelligent. If you are feeling down, look at my sidebar again – Life Stuff is at the top of the list and, believe me, it does mean something to make it on to the list in the first place! Lack of feedback can be highly demoralising, especially if you have bared your soul on the blog. I even made a donation to Halo Scan to integrate an upgraded comments account on to Redemption Blues in order to afford casual browsers an opportunity to respond to my musings. Thus far it has remained unused.
There are those of us out there who appreciate both you and your writing :))) so do not succumb to despair! In the meantime, I wish you a Happy Christmas and New Year – who knows, maybe you will find a job and/or the man of your dreams (and I don't mean the bad ones)! I certainly wish both for you!
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