In my (admittedly) biased opinion, there’s only one thing more boring than hearing about people’s horoscopes, and that is hearing about people’s dreams. Now, I don’t mean dreams in the sense of someone’s hopes and ambitions and desires for the future. Those can be both fascinating and inspiring. I am talking about dreams in the literal sense – those little brain-farts that happen, when you are in a light sleep.
It may be simply to do with my lack of patience. While I am working on being more zen-like in my day to day life, I do find myself getting antsy in queues or if I am forced to wait needlessly. If someone says ‘I had the strangest dream last night’ my heart sinks. I know that it is likely that I am to be subjected to this interminable tale of random imaginings and then be expected to give my interpretation on what it all MEANS.
While I may lack patience, I try not to be a monster either, so I will arrange my face in a calm manner when this happens. I make sure not to lurch forward, shouting ‘What a load of old shit. It means nothing – it’s a dream. It doesn’t foretell the future. It might be some random way your brain is trying to process something on your mind right now. Or it might mean absolutely nothing. I don’t know. Neither does anyone else. Otherwise there wouldn’t be that massive cottage industry of dream interpretation.’
Instead I usually reply ‘Oh dreams can’t be explained’. Then I will throw myself on the floor screaming ‘My ankle, my ankle’ to distract their attention.
The dream analysis factory is one of those dubious groupings that seem to be on the same wavelength as the crystals or homeopathy industries – well intentioned but unproven, meaningless pseudo-sciences that are meant alleviate symptoms, but certainly don’t offer any cure.
With all that said, I had a very vivid and scary dream last night.
In real life I am appearing in a Halloween showcase of short plays on Thursday and Friday. I wrote one piece. I have a main part in another; and a supporting part in yet another.
Tonight is the tech and dress rehearsal. I spent last night revising my lines for the final time. When this was done I treated myself to a youtube viewing of ‘Hollywood: Mysteries and Scandals – how drugs KILLED Judy Garland’. Very highbrow stuff.
Well early this morning, I was in that in-between area, between sleep and alertness. I dreamed that I was in an amateur theatre play with Judy Garland. And that I forgot all my lines.
I wonder what it all MEANS?