Dream Analysis, anyone?

It begins with Will (my fiance) nagging me to write this all down, day after day as we chug into work together in the morning, as I excitedly and confusedly recount what I can remember of the night before. In reality, as we sleep I am violent with it, so absorbed in my own subconciousness that Will tells me I don’t even allow him to touch me. That part comes in the middle of the night, I suppose when my dreams are their most fierce. We fall asleep as close to each other as possible most nights. I crave his skin and I press myself to him, molding myself to his contours, ignoring the pain in my neck to allow for maximum touching. But this soon wears off. At some point I must roll over, or maybe he rolls away; the point is that eventually Will wakes and sees me on the other side of the bed, and quite naturally he comes to visit me. But no sooner does he touch me do I immediately begin writhing and shrugging, not ceasing to stop the crazy flailing until he is no longer touching me. Sometimes he does it accidentally. I mean, the bed isn’t that big, and maybe his toe brushes mine. Apparently even this is unacceptable to the sleeping me, and I return to the flailing and flinging until the offending touch has gone away.

The first significant dream I can now recall in recent memory occured about a week ago. I’ve had many rich and interesting dreams since moving here, but you know how it is-- unless you get the buggers down, they have a way of slipping (sometimes forever) into the recessive cracks of memory. Not this one, though. Willie would never let me forget it.

All week at work I’d been pretty stressed out, and the printer I used to produce most of the color exhibits for our presentations was refusing to print one particular exhibit. This particular exhibit, which I usually referred to as “that stupid aerial”, caused me to have essentially ZERO productivity one day. That night, I dreamt that I was under a massive deadline and I just couldn’t get the aeiral to print. For the first period of the drea, all I remember is pulling a half-printed page from the printer, then cursing “that &#*#(* aerial!!” and then waking up feeling angry and stressed. Awake, I’d take a quick drink of water, turn over, scoot closer to Will for comfort, tell myself to relax… and then before I knew it, the same thing would happen again. Over and over I woke up cursing the blasted Aerial, until finally something did come out of the printer. This time the whole Aerial printed, but all the words we’d painstakingly typed in as labels came out printed in ARABIC. Again cursed and woke up, then fell back into the dream. This time when the picture printed, it was a portrait of a black family, and the only two people I really remember were these: One, a midget with a grim look on his face, and the Other (tell me, dear Freud, what can this possibly mean??) was a big biruly guy wearing a body cast and holding a pitchfork. Huh!
And that’s all I remember of that dream.

I was conceived in a gas station bathroom.

I think it means that you should stop eating a full bag of cheetos right before going to bed at night.

Why that sounds like our very own Satan!

One of the few to be personally welcomed to this board by Ed Zotti.

Yours truly,

Dream cycles come and go in 20 minute blocks, which could be why you kept waking up. Repeative dreams usually signify feeling stuck, stagnant or unproductive. Since the dream took place at work, that would the logical assumption as to what the stuck feeling is coming from. But is could be feeling stuck somewhere else in your life, too.

The touching thing isn’t a big deal. It’s probably just a physiological responce. Ever touched a cat’s ear while the cat is sleeping? Same thing.


I don’t know what being “biruly” is, and I’ve never been in a body cast. Well, not yet anyway… The pitchfork is right though… :wink:

Yer pal,


Two weeks, four days, 13 hours, 45 minutes and 8 seconds.
742 cigarettes not smoked, saving $92.86.
Life saved: 2 days, 13 hours, 50 minutes.