Thursday, January 17, 2002

Dream a Little Dream for Me

Well it's day four of the new Life Schedule...or is it three days? Hard to tell, since I started the Schedule about two-thirds of the way through Monday. So should I only count whole days? Maybe I shouldn't count them at all. Maybe I should just pretend I've always been on this Schedule; maybe I should not admit to being on a Schedule at all, that getting up at 8:30 is not unusual or even remotely interesting.

Either way, the whole thing is going pretty well. I get up, I have all this time in the morning to do stuff, and it's not really all that hard to get in bed at 11. But today I don't have anything particular to do, and the temptation to get back into the bed was very very strong. Since it's Thursday, it's not an aerobics morning, and so I should be writing or praying or meditating. But I have a feeling that if I meditate I'll go back to sleep, if I pray I will pray for the proper rationalization to go back to sleep...and so I got dressed, made an extra-big pot of coffee, and am writing. I had intended to write in my dream journal, but that is right next to the bed, which might lead me into I'll write here in the blog, at the computer (can't get drowsy-comfy in an aluminum folding-chair), in the kitchen (which is the coldest room in the house right now, since the architects in their infinite wisdom didn't believe we needed a heater-vent in the same room as the oven that is now preheating to 400°).

So I've been having this recurring theme in my dreams lately: I'm running late, I have to perform in a show, usually a benefit at some strange out-of-the-way place; I have to shave before I can put on my makeup, and not only is my face amazingly hirsute (like with my eyebrows fanning all the way up into my hairline, which is a really long way), but I can't find the shaving things in my jumbled, confused, messy bag; if I ever do find all of the things to get my face put on correctly, my clothes or my music are all wrong, maybe I forgot my hose or my dress is unusually short or doesn't fit or is just gone; eventually I give up and just enjoy myself at whatever event I'm attending. I'm sure this is a textbook dream that Jung or whoever could translate without even looking up from his newspaper, but I'm not so well-versed in these things.

So I consulted The Hidden Meaning of Dreams by Craig Hamilton-Parker (a gift from my good friend David), and tried to make some sense of this recurrent theme. It says that dreams about my face, particularly about makeup, have to do with the face I show the world which may be at odds with the "real me." Dreams of beards and hair in unexpected places can signify virility and male sexuality, vitality—and shaving could indicate a perceived loss of masculinity, or a feeling of being censored. The clothes, like the face, are forms of self-expression...if they're tight, I may be feeling restricted by my own self-representation, just as if they are tattered I may need to discard an uncomfortable lifestyle or outgrown attitude, or if they are failing to cover my 'imperfections' they may need to be replaced or thrown out.

The interpretation that occurs to me is that subconscious is telling me that I am castrating myself with my own self-image, that the false face I put on for the world is strangling my sexuality, and that the struggle between the two (self-portrayal and actual self) are causing my "slip to show"...but that since, at the end of the dream, I am usually accepting the situation and having a good time after all, that perhaps I'm okay with this duality because I don't take it very seriously.

Any dream-interpreters out there? What do you think about it? Do tell!

Well, my darlings, I think I shall go out and run some errands before work. After work I have a meeting and rehearsals, so it may be Now or Never.

Sweet dreams!

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