Do you need a moment?
Really, take as long as you'd like. Because I don't think you are going to get this one.
No?
They are all featured in the series of successively odd dreams I have had this week.
Woah. Hold on there. It's not turning into that kind of blog:
("And now let me show you picturez of my prezchus bunniez!")
Which is (sadly) not a euphemism for anything expect that Yeah, I really do have rabbits.
Since I stopped taking melatonin to help me sleep this summer, my dream life has been much quieter. For which I have been grateful. The melatonin works like a charm for inducing sleep, but the trade off is that my dreams became literal Tim Burton-esque sideshows. Ones where you wake feeling slightly concerned and mightily confused.
Since I have been off the 'tonin, the dreams this week - which had all the characteristics of the 'tonin dreams - were puzzling.
In the first, I cut my hair off. All of it. All of my beautiful, lovely, luscious hair. The hair cut I gave myself looked very much like the 16 year old Dawn - all spikey short angles. A feminine hedgehog.
When I came to, I was panicked. I love my hair. Truly. There must be a biblical edict against the amount I love my hair. And while I don't fuss with it much, or style it up into fancy coiffures, it gives me a Sampsonesque feeling of strength and feminine beauty.
After reassuring myself that I had not shorn myself during sleep, I was puzzled. "That was weird", I thought.
Until the following night, when I found myself in the backyard of a house that looked very much like my grandparents house, where the gardens were being turned under for the winter. With the exception of the tomatoes...which were being left exposed to the elements ( even as I was cautioning that they should be picked and allowed to ripen on the windowsills)
While that dream did not leave me quite so panicked, it did leave me quizzical. Huh? Tomatoes? Gardens? Houses? Back Yards? ( and my mother was lurking in this dream too)
Bah. I need to drink some peppermint tea before bed and stop reading philosophy.
But last night? The real piece de resistance in the Dream Trilogy?
I was on stage at a concert. I was wearing some kind of mesh/transparent face covering. And Johnny Depp was doing some kind of singing/interpretive dance. I was sitting on a couch on the stage watching this performance. An audience in front of an audience. And because this was not odd enough from my subconscious?
Someone splashed ketchup on Monsieur Depp, leading him to believe he was bleeding. He freaks out and stops the concert/performance. Leaving me on the couch.
Since I have no uncommon affection for the Depp, I was curious as to why he got chosen to star in my On-stage performance. I mean honestly, there are LOTS of other fancy boys I would go for before Depp.
( Why Yes, Jensen Ackles, I AM looking at you...even though I am vaguely sure you are shorter than me and couldn't keep up your end of the conversation with a complicated series of pulleys and levers.)
Of course, I could stop watching things like American Horror Story before bed...but where would the fun be in that, I ask? (Oh, my love for this show is new and unbounded...give me more Jessica Lange as crazed, poisoning cougar...Yes, Please, Yes!)
I need a job.
Really, take as long as you'd like. Because I don't think you are going to get this one.
No?
They are all featured in the series of successively odd dreams I have had this week.
Woah. Hold on there. It's not turning into that kind of blog:
("And now let me show you picturez of my prezchus bunniez!")
Which is (sadly) not a euphemism for anything expect that Yeah, I really do have rabbits.
Since I stopped taking melatonin to help me sleep this summer, my dream life has been much quieter. For which I have been grateful. The melatonin works like a charm for inducing sleep, but the trade off is that my dreams became literal Tim Burton-esque sideshows. Ones where you wake feeling slightly concerned and mightily confused.
Since I have been off the 'tonin, the dreams this week - which had all the characteristics of the 'tonin dreams - were puzzling.
In the first, I cut my hair off. All of it. All of my beautiful, lovely, luscious hair. The hair cut I gave myself looked very much like the 16 year old Dawn - all spikey short angles. A feminine hedgehog.
When I came to, I was panicked. I love my hair. Truly. There must be a biblical edict against the amount I love my hair. And while I don't fuss with it much, or style it up into fancy coiffures, it gives me a Sampsonesque feeling of strength and feminine beauty.
After reassuring myself that I had not shorn myself during sleep, I was puzzled. "That was weird", I thought.
Until the following night, when I found myself in the backyard of a house that looked very much like my grandparents house, where the gardens were being turned under for the winter. With the exception of the tomatoes...which were being left exposed to the elements ( even as I was cautioning that they should be picked and allowed to ripen on the windowsills)
While that dream did not leave me quite so panicked, it did leave me quizzical. Huh? Tomatoes? Gardens? Houses? Back Yards? ( and my mother was lurking in this dream too)
Bah. I need to drink some peppermint tea before bed and stop reading philosophy.
But last night? The real piece de resistance in the Dream Trilogy?
I was on stage at a concert. I was wearing some kind of mesh/transparent face covering. And Johnny Depp was doing some kind of singing/interpretive dance. I was sitting on a couch on the stage watching this performance. An audience in front of an audience. And because this was not odd enough from my subconscious?
Someone splashed ketchup on Monsieur Depp, leading him to believe he was bleeding. He freaks out and stops the concert/performance. Leaving me on the couch.
Since I have no uncommon affection for the Depp, I was curious as to why he got chosen to star in my On-stage performance. I mean honestly, there are LOTS of other fancy boys I would go for before Depp.
( Why Yes, Jensen Ackles, I AM looking at you...even though I am vaguely sure you are shorter than me and couldn't keep up your end of the conversation with a complicated series of pulleys and levers.)
Of course, I could stop watching things like American Horror Story before bed...but where would the fun be in that, I ask? (Oh, my love for this show is new and unbounded...give me more Jessica Lange as crazed, poisoning cougar...Yes, Please, Yes!)
I need a job.
1 Baleful Regards:
Fair warning: you started it. I can’t resist an analysis.
Hair can mean so many things, particularly to women, but in this case, I suspect:
• Hair = sexuality; In light of the Terrence situation, are you feeling “cut off” from yours?
• Gardens = creativity
• Tomatoes = whatever aspect of your own growth that you’re feeling exposed about, or that’s going fallow, when it should be carefully taken in, nurtured, and allowed to develop naturally, in its own time
• Depp, et al = exposure, performing, the masks we present to society; in the theory that all people in your dreams are aspects of you, the catsup could be feeling attacked (or slimed by someone else’s mess) by something that turns out to be pretty harmless, but causes you to stop in your tracks anyway; couch seems passive and objective/observational (like watching your life go by), while performing is active/dynamic; could the leaving me on the couch be a metaphor for your life going on hold while you sort out the past (on a therapist’s couch)? Finally, Depp’s a Gemini, so perhaps he’s your janus counterpart. Flip sides of the same coin, you know? For whatever it's worth.
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