I can’t get it out of my head. This bizarre dream I had last night. You know how the vast majority of dreams fade away within minutes of waking up, but then there are those select few which are so intense and baffling that they linger? Well this one is a big time lingerer. It came in three parts, and it’s a damn freakshow. Indulge me as I recap:
Part 1 – I’m in my bedroom and I notice a peephole on the wall. For the record, I do not have a peephole in my bedroom. (Heck, I’m a professional art model, my whole life is one giant peephole! 😆 ) Anyway, I move around the room and the peephole is following me as I move, like a creepy camera lens. Eeewww! I shout “Stop it!”. It doesn’t stop. I jump on the bed, hide behind the dresser, but the pesky peephole follows me everywhere! I go completely batshit, and black out.
Part 2 – Suddenly I am in some kind of machinery factory, with assembly lines and forklifts, the whole deal. A scruffy worker comes up to me and says, “Your package is ready for pickup”. He hands me a big, heavy box. I open it up and it’s full of nails, bolts, hammers, pliers, etc. Confused, I ask, “But where is my veggie wrap?”. “It’s in there”, he answers. I say, “But did you hold the cheese? I requested no goat cheese”. Then the guy gets all testy with me. “Yeah, lady. No goat cheese! I’m not a fucking moron, ok?”. Geez. Sorry.
Part 3 – I’m walking down a deserted alley carrying the box. It’s broad daylight. A tall, dark-haired man wearing a black trench coat and hat approaches me. “Are you with a friend?” he asks. I say “Huh?”. He grins and says, “I have a friend. Wanna see him?”. As a street smart woman born and raised in NYC, I realize immediately what he’s about to do. “NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOOOO!!! I don’t want to see him! Not interested! Good bye!!”. I turn to leave, but the creep follows me, knocks the box out of my hands, and . . . opens his coat . . . and shows me his thing!!!! Ugh!!! Then he reaches for my hand and attempts to put it there!!! EEEK!!!
The dream ends, and I am jolted out of sleep at 4 AM with chest palpitations. I get up, go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face.
The thought of analyzing that mess terrifies me. I mean, what kind of weird, insecure, neurotic stuff am I harboring in my subconscious? A peephole tracking my movements in my bedroom? What deep-seated fear does that symbolize? Ordering a veggie wrap from a factory, along with a box of bolts and nails? Huh? And being flashed by a pervert in the street? That last one I think I have all figured out. Here in New York there’s been a story lately in our local news about a guy exposing himself to women on the subway and how one of his quick-thinking victims snapped his picture with her cell phone. I read somewhere that recent news stories and real-life events can show up in dreams.
The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli, 1782:
The dream master himself, Salvador Dali. This is Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee. Awesome painting!
Venting all this here on the blog has alleviated some of my uneasiness, but I’m still a little creeped out. Let’s listen to some Dion. Anyone remember Dion? Of Dion and the Belmonts? I know you do, Mom! 🙂