at school

          I was in a house where a woman was taking a shower. I went out onto the patio and noticed a few trickles of blued fluid seeping out of the wall. I thought it must be the shower water somehow leaking through. I went into the house to tell the woman, but as I entered the house I realized that  the shower was on the opposite side of the house.  I went into the room where the blue ooze seemed to be coming from, and saw that there was a steady stream of blue water flowing in around the sill of a window. I ran to the woman and banged on her door. I said “come quickly, don’t even bother to dress!”

She came and looked blankly at the water coming in the house. I went to leave, to look for the source, but the woman started to open the window, and even more water came in, and I shouted at her not to. I asked if the water tank was on the roof. I pictured the outside of the house in my mind, but couldn’t imagine how that much water could have been flowing without my seeing it.

          I went to a school where a lecture was going on. I stood in a doorway, looking in at the lecture. A sawyer beetle flew in by my head and startled me. It flew erratically past some other people who swatted at it. It landed on the floor and a girl stepped on it with her chuppal. I was sorry she killed it, but glad it wasn’t going to bother me any more. The girl looked back at me, and pointed. Another person next to me looked and stepped away, startled, saying something and pointing toward my shoulder. I looked and it was an orange spider, as big as my hand. It was very fuzzy, and almost mouse-like. I jumped back, and it leapt onto my hand, biting my finger. ‘Kill it! Slap it before it bites me!” I shouted, but no one did a thing. I could feel its little teeth clamping down on my finger. I used my left hand to grab it, pull it off and throw it to the ground.

          I was in a class with two other students. The teacher was conducting a sort of psychotherapy exercise with us. Each of us had to answer a series of probing questions. The first guy went, and was moved to tears by the elucidation of his pain that the exercise wrought. The second guy is the guy from last night’s dream, in which we lay down together and shared memories of music from our youth. It was very comforting. This time all of us were expecting this man to be smug about the exercise, and to not respond. Surprisingly he also was moved to tears. Just watching him cry made tears come to my eyes.

          The classes rotate from one room to the next. I got to the next room and the previous class hadn’t quite finished, so I sat on a stool in the corner. A woman from my class came over and sat near me, then moved her bag closer to her. I had sat in her seat, but she didn’t say anything. Our class began, but I wasn’t really a part of it. We were shown a demonstration of a new computer program which would be the operating system for all of our computers. All of our backgrounds were supposed to be the “wave” theme, with water shimmering. It was a security measure. Instead of using a mouse or arrow keys we’d be able to conduct searches by writing on the screen. We moved on to the next class, where again the previous class was not yet done. There had been a group exercise and the culmination was a woman revealing her naked torso, which had been written on by all of them, unknowing that they were writing on her body. The effect was revelatory to all. I noticed that she was not thin, but was very sexy, and I knew that she was a sexpert of some sort.

          In the next class we worked in pairs. There was a cupboard with drawers under it, and in order to either lock or unlock it, you had to put a pen in this nole to depress a spring, two other objects in other holes, and then insert a key and turn it. It was hard to get everything lined up so that the key could be turned. I had the three objects lined up, and asked my partner to insert the key. She tried, but couldn’t turn it. As we worked on it it became clear that she wasn’t trying very hard. We switched positions, and she purposefully bent the pen, and when I objected, she just sort of laughed and shrugged. I was furious and stomped around looking for another pen of the right dimensions. I slammed the cabinet shut and it bent. When I came back to try to get the thing done again I saw that the cabinet was not only bent, but now was falling apart.

          Somehow we got it done, and went out for a drive. My partner was driving, and she went through an elaborate safety check, based on the checklist that copilots use to be sure to launch a rocket ship should the pilot be unavailable. I was annoyed because we were in a hurry. We needed to go to Renee X’s house and I was trying to find directions on the computer. The screen looked different, and there was no mouse, so I asked someone how to operate it. A man took the computer and showed me. It was just like the demonstration we had in class earlier.

Remembering NRBQ

          I was in a foreign city for a conference. After the conference there was a banquet. I leant a woman my yellow scarf. She criticized me for my clothes. I saw a group of people I knew, so I went to sit down near them, but I was actually sitting at a table with some people I didn’t know. The woman next to me started talking to me, and I told her I was waiting to get near my friends. I was holding a pickle in one hand and something else in the other. I made a comment about having slimy things in each hand. My friends got up and left. I went back to the bar, where the yellow scarf woman was, and someone asked me if I didn’t have anything but milk to drink in my fridge. They needed more drinks. I said I had some mango juice, some grapefruit juice and apricot nectar. They went and got the juices and kept them behind the bar. Later someone came up and requested one of the special drinks they made with the juices. I went back to where my friends had been, but everyone was gone except for a middle-aged man with dark hair who was lying down. I lay down next to him. He was quietly humming a song by a 70s band that was very cheesy. Barry Manilow or something. We joked about that. I said that if we came back here in 30 years and did this again, and I had to confess who my favorite band was, I’d also be embarrassed. I tried to think back 30 years to see what my favorite band was. I calculated that it would be 1978, when I was just starting college. The band would have been NRBQ, or Warren Zevon. It was very cozy and comforting being with this guy.

          I went back to the hotel to sleep. I had to pee, but the toilet was overflowing with water. I reached into the tank and pulled up the flapper to let some out, but then the flapper wouldn’t seal again. I woke up the next morning and the sun was shining strong and warm on me. I looked at a clock, but couldn’t quite see the  numbers. I looked around and found another one, and it seemed to say 7. I thought it must be much later than that. I turned on my satellite radio, which broadcast in a time zone two hours ahead of mine, and saw that it read 9:09, which meant it was 7 here. I got up and went to the office of the yellow scarf woman. I asked her if I could speak with Alisa, who was her boss. She seemed uneasy about this, but went in the inner office to tell her I was there. Something else happened. Then I was leaving, and I blurted out “oh, by the way, can I have my scarf back?” It was very awkward. She pretended to be nonchalant and said ‘oh, is this yours?’ and gave it back to me. I left.

          Back at the hotel it was decided that everyone would leave, except I wanted to stay, in order to go to something. Ed decided to stay with me. I was pleased because I was a little afraid to be moving about the city on my own, even though I knew it a little bit from having been here before, and knew I was capable. I thought some things through, and realized that we’d have to check out by 12:30, so we’d better leave by 12, since it would take at least 15 minutes to go somewhere on the trolley. It made no sense, but hey; it’s a dream. I started to pack, but I first had to go somewhere and pick up my laundry. I had left it by the trolley track. I went to the stop where my laundry was, and was going to take the trolley back, but was a little confused about which one to take. There was the train which went to other cities and towns, the trolley which moved around town and another train-like thing; maybe a subway.

          I got on a green trolley, holding my basket of clothes. There was a woman on the trolley who was Asian, scolding her child for standing too long. She said it was very bad to stand so long. I moved through the trolley, having to carefully wedge my basket between the passengers. I was aching from holding it. I got to the last car, and there was a seat facing backwards which was empty. It was perfect. I sat on it with my laundry on my lap, relieved. A gawky teenage boy came to sit next to me. He had aviator glasses on, through which he looked at me in an odd way. It was both knowing and questioning. I got back to the hotel and told Ed that we should leave by 12. He said it didn’t matter that checkout time was 12:30; all we had to do is notify the hotel that we’d be staying a little later. I said no, if we didn’t check out by 12:30 we’d be charged an extra day, and it would take us 15 minutes to …. something. He was convinced.

          We got to a garden of some sort. Someone was trying to get someone else’s attention, but soon remembered that the person he was hailing was deaf, so began flashing lights and flapping his arms. He said the deaf man had been in a war. It turned out to be the youth from the trolley with the glasses. He came along a path, and as he passed, I became him. I saw images of glasses being pressed into the dark earth. I felt in my pockets and found a number of chili peppers. I took them out and began arranging them in rows according to their size and shape. I couldn’t not do it. I knew that no one could understand the reason for the different rows. I started to get anxious and the peppers were rolling around, so I picked them up too hard and they were starting to fall apart. I fully understood the confused mind of the deaf youth.

 

Another dream with trolleys. Dr. Lennox said that the first one, with a subway was about subways taking us through the dark, and gets us anywhere, and that the second one with a trolley, was a token that I was moving on, since now the trolley is above ground. In this one I have some fear about it (getting the right one), but I get on it and find my seat. In interpreting dreams I get stuck applying shallow, pedestrian meanings i.e. its about something I did yesterday or it’s a template for my emotional development, and Dr L. said to ‘petition the dream for a more universal meaning’. OK: ?

          It certainly is about checking. I check the time, I check my scarf, I make plans, I sort out the trains. Its also about companionship; I felt relieved to have Ed there, and I felt comfort with the other man. And if mac and cheese is comfort food, NRBQ is comfort music if there ever was such a thing! In all three trolley dreams there is some anxiety about catching the trolley or some anxiety just before getting on, and then I move through it, avoiding obstacles until I find a seat. I think I need to just sit on that train and let it take me where I need to go. Quit making it as difficult as it is.

          I fully understood the confused mind of the deaf youth. He had been tortured. He didn’t understand the complexities, the specifics about this life, but he had a sense of safety in certain people and things and trusted that. I’m reminded of something I heard: we shouldn’t think that “I have a spirit” but that “I am a spirit, moving this body and mind around.” That’s what the deaf youth is; the spirit.

catching a trolley

          I was at a trolley stop with a man who was my father and two siblings. When the trolley came the father man got on and sat in a seat next to the street. He was a small man, with a short, dark beard and short, dark hair. He acted neutrally to the fact that we didn’t get on. There was a suggestion that it was a sort of test. The trolley left before we could get on. It was a dusky blue color. We ran after it to the next stop, and I managed to barely grab a hold of the grab bar above the back door. That car was packed full of people. I was holding a blanket or something in my left arm, and it was difficult to lift my arm up high enough to reach the bar. It was the feeling of being partially awake and trying to move but not having conscious control of your body. As the trolley moved on, I tried to push my way through the crowd to the front car where the father man was. The middle car was very narrow, but it was empty. I squeezed along between the seats and got through it to the front car. I sat next to the father man, who was and was not surprised to see me.

          He was reading a pamphlet about the museum exhibit which we were going to see. It was about witches and their persecution during times of hardship, or it was about shamanism. He wasn’t sure which stop to get off at to find the museum. We were traveling through a university campus now and I could see the names of the buildings, and we seemed to be in the right subject area. The buildings were arranged by subjects like books in a library. We got off and went into the museum. At the entrance the father man said he couldn’t go in, but I must. He started shaking violently and banging himself on the head – or maybe someone else was, or maybe his head was hitting something as he shook. He said that he meant for me to see the exhibit and it was very important, but he couldn’t go in; that’s why he was shaking.

 

The day before this dream I saw a man carrying something wrapped in a blanket in the crook of his arm like one would hold a baby. I also read an article about research showing that the amount persecution of witches in all cultures peaks when the economy is doing poorly.

 

Pushing my way through the crowd and squeezing through the middle car felt like a sort of birthing. The three segments of the trolley are like periods of my life. I can see it as representing my relationship with my family – being separated from them, and then reconnecting with my father, but  not finding satisfying relationships with my siblings (they are left behind)- but I don’t understand what the message is. OK, that happened. So what about it? I feel like I’m missing something.