To sleep, perchance to dream (AKA, Am I crazy, Doc?)

For some reason, I've been having extremely vivid dreams for the past several weeks. I've had spells like this before -- especially during finals when I was in college -- but I don't think going through football season for the umpteenth year in a row is anywhere near as stressful as knowing you're about to totally bomb on four tests in the next three days.

The one this morning was a real doozy. Imagine the world as it looked in "Streets of Fire," only no Tom Cody to knock heads or Ellen Aim to lust after (I've been told it's rare to dream in color; I seem to dream in Technicolor[size=6pt]TM). I'm getting ready to cover Game 1 of the World Series at Yankee Stadium (obviously, not this season; maybe in a parallel universe) when word comes that a felon who had been convicted of stalking and attempting to murder a Yankee player is being released from prison. Oh, and the prison the guy is being let out of is right across the street from the ballpark. (Hey, it's a dream. Anything's possible).

Understandably, Major League Baseball and the Yankees organization are very tight-lipped about the situation, but my paper demands something from the player before the game starts. My job is on the line here.

Batting practice starts and Joe Torre (the one bit of normalcy to appear in this little melodrama) spends the whole time stonewalling the media horde while I'm running all over the place trying to find the player.

Somehow, I wind up on the concourse and the player comes around the corner. Just as I get his attention, I notice this wild-eyed guy coming up behind him. I step past the player, putting me between him and Mr. Wild-Eye, and the player turns around and realizes who the other guy is.

"Hello, Johnny."

I dive, somebody screams, mayhem ensues and the next thing I know is somebody's congratulating me for the fantastic lead to my story about the incident.

Needless to say, I was in a cold sweat when I woke up.

When I looked at the clock, I'd been asleep for maybe two hours. I didn't even know that was enough time to achieve deep-sleep dream mode. I got back to sleep for about another hour and-a-half and dreamed EVERYBODY on the board was pestering me about what happened in the last dream.

I'm sure some psychoanalysts would have a field day with all this, and I would be fitted for a straight jacket if they knew who/where I was.

I'm thinking it was just the Mexican food I had for dinner.

 

I'm not Doc (by a longshot...) but, I do have movie-plot style dreams, in color. Think they are great, except when one of my kids are in danger. I've learned that those super-scary dreams generally indicate I'm coming down with some severe winter illness, like a nasty flu or bronchitis. (And once, that my furnace was kicking out a whole lotta carbon monoxide.)

Years ago I found a great book, "The Little Giant Encyclopedia of Dream Symbols" (http://www.amazon.com/Little-Giant-Encyclopedia-Dream-Symbols/dp/0806997877/sr=8-1/qid=1160944896/ref=sr_1_1/104-0369094-2292721?ie=UTF8&s=books


It's the only one that doesn't equate symbols with astrology or lotto numbers.

Compiled by psychoanalyst Klaus Vollmar, he points out upfront that dream symbols are far more than the commonly accepted equation of symbol = one meaning. He's pulled together images globally, from the antiquities to now, including American Indian tradition and general folklore. He cataloged about 2,000 image meanings with those from various psych disciplines.

Vollmar points out that the reader is the judge of whether and how well an image fits with the compiled interpretation. The book includes a sample of one client's dream analysis, showing how a repeated symbol in her life deviates from the book's meaning, in part because the symbol had a very specific meaning in her life.

He includes tips on keeping a dream journal so you can identify your own iconic dream images and their meanings.

What I like especially is that he gives both sides of an image. Of course this also challenges the reader to keep an open mind when an image offers a less-than-flattering interpretation. The definitions are not absolutes, just guides.

For example, under Hero/Heroine: "A well-known desire for acceptance and validation, even if you are the hero or heroine yourself. If you see a hero, it wold indicate that you are hoping for help, but pettiness is involved. Adventuresome, craving for admiration, exaggerated and immature masculinityand femininity; but also vitality and the ability to succeed, similar the Hammer. It may also mean the opposite -- that you feel like a failure -- or that you must be in control of everything. Dreams about heroes belong usually to so-called 'big dreams,' which take place in a person just prior to puberty , during a midlife crisis or before dying. According to Jung, the hero is one of the most important archetypes."

The downside to this book is -- no index of words so finding symbols requires some creative thinking at times. For example, nothing for "killer" but a great entry for "murder/murderer."

But sometimes you just have to look more carefully. An unhappy review on Amazon.com claims there's no entry for "beach" but it's right on pg. 56: "The border between consciousness and the unconscious; or a desire for vacation and relaxation."

Thanks for sharing your dream. Very cool stuff.

 

dreaming about SportsJournalists.com? that's not a good sign. ;D :

but seriously, i've kept a notebook by the side of my bed for the past 10 years or so in which i write down my dreams. unfortunately i don't write them down as often as i should. i'll go a year or two in between writing in it and i only have 30-40 pages from the past 10 years. but sometimes it's cool to flip back through the pages and read about the crazy shit i dreamt about in the past. at times i'd write in the margins something about what was happening in my life (like 'started new job' or 'covered nfl game' or the like) so it would help me understand what the dream might mean.

i got one of those dreams encyclopedias as a gift a few years ago but i got rid of it after a little while because i am convinced it's useless to rely on someone else to try to objectively analyze what's going on in my head. by definition, it can't be an objective exercise.

 

Actually, I think dreaming in color is the norm. We don't see our real world in black and white, so why would the dream version appear in that unnatural way? Unless, of course, we were dreaming about being in "Casablanca."

And as I recall, dreaming doesn't occur during the deepest sleep. It usually happens after the deep sleep, but I've dozed off for five minutes and had a mini-dream.

 

This shit just keeps getting weirder.

I got jolted awake by this beauty this morning. Since I've already gone through puberty, I must be having a midlife crisis or I'm about to die.

Any way, it all starts when my wife and I take our two grade-school-aged boys on a Disney cruise in the Caribbean (never mind the fact that I've never married and have no children). The kids are excited about the whole vacation idea, I'm excited to be away from work for two weeks and the wife is excited that I'm actually willing to spend money on something like this.

A few days into the trip, one of the offered excursions is to a SeaWorld-type of park complete with dancing dolphins, a walrus (in the tropics???) and shark tank. Somewhere along the way, our tour group gets highjacked by a Jamaican drug gang that's going to hold us for ransom. If they don't get lots of money fast, they're going to start chopping kids up with machetes.

This, of course, freaks out everybody and sends me into a frenzy. I start screaming shit at one of the thugs -- "You want to chop something up? Try me motherfucker!" -- and working myself into a berserker rage (which I have been known to do in real life).

The first thug winds up with a screwdriver through his right eye (where I found a screwdriver, I have no clue). Grabbing his machete, I go after the rest of the gang and Jamaican body parts start flying. At least one guy winds up in the shark tank, while the last one gets a walrus tusk through the spine.

When it's all over, I'm covered in gore and heaving for breath. I look for my family and while the boys are basically all right, if a bit stunned by it all, my wife is hysterical. How could I be so vicious? And in front of the kids? They'll need therapy after seeing that!

My response was something along the lines that I'd rather have my family emotionally scarred than dead, but it's a pretty good bet the vacation (if not the marriage) is over.



After that, I don't know whether to seek professional help or just start drinking heavily. One of the photogs at my shop said it would make a good movie. I'm thinking Steven Seagal or Bruce Willis for the lead role.

 

I just can't believe you made three Streets of Fire references.

You're going nowhere fast, pressboxer.