Dreams: My Unfinished Stories
Keep An Eye To the Sky
FROZEN BY FEAR
The scream of sheer panic was deafening. The pillow, sheets, and body were drenched in sweat from the frightening images that flashed across the screen. Frozen by fear in a moment of time and with no means of retreat meant there was only one option for survival. I fitfully awoke by yelling, “No!” My dream had brought me face to face with death and it was all too frightening for me to deal with at the moment. Although it appeared to be the reality it was instead a horror movie being played in the theater of my mind and all exit doors were locked.
Sigmund Freud long hailed as the “father of psychoanalysis” published his now famous book “The Interpretation of Dreams” in 1899. Freud found himself, over the course of several years; making numerous revisions to his book He theorized that while we are in a dream state our subconscious mind seeks to handle unsettled issues from our past. In an ongoing quest to solve the mysteries of our dreams and to explain their existence, Sigmund Freud discusses the symbols, meanings and psychology of our dreams. Naturally, there are many other dream researchers who have thrown their opinions and data into the debate of what occurs and why when we are off to journeys of the mind. Ann Faraday attempted to assist people in the analysis of their own dreams. Calvin S. Hall developed a coding system to basically place dreams into various categories. Carl Jung felt dreams attempt to make up for areas of our psyche that haven’t been fully developed during our states of consciousness. Personally, I don’t know what this all means, except that it is fascinating to talk about and ponder.
SCARY CHILDHOOD DREAMS
As a small boy, I remember the frightening “monster” dreams. I can still vividly recall seeing the heads of gruesome demons floating around my bed and room. Seeking the safety of a storm cellar from the tornadoes of horror swirling around my mind would lead me to the sanctuary of my mother and father’s bedroom. I was always amazed at how my dad knew I was standing by his bed when he would pull down the covers and say, “come on.” Who would have thought that a hairy arm across my face could offer up so much comfort?
FIND A QUARTER AND PICK IT UP
It was during my teen years when I first started having a recurring dream. I would be walking down our driveway and see a quarter. When I picked up the quarter, another would appear and then one more and on and on they would pop up as if in a tube that was spring loaded. This particular fantasy continues to revisit me from time to time. Unfortunately, even with inflation, I have been unable to visualize the quarter into dollar bills.
DON'T SPILL A DROP
While employed in an extremely conservative office environment, where most of us worked in cubicles, one sinister and the embarrassing dream continued to haunt me. Standing and facing my desk, I would pull open the pencil tray drawer and proceed to urinate on it. My real dilemma was how to carefully close the drawer without spilling the deposit I had just left. I wonder what Dr. Freud would have thought about this?
A PHONE CALL FROM THE GRAVE
When my father died unexpectedly in 1994 I was numb with pain from the void that was now in my life. Within a few days of my dad’s death, I experienced one of the most emotional and real dreams ever. The red telephone on my table in the living room began to ring. I picked up the receiver and answered the call. “Hello son,” was the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line. My excitement was obvious when I answered back, “dad?” “Yes son…it's dad,” he replied. “But, you’re…” I started to say when he interrupted me and quite clearly said, “Dead. Yes, son, I’m dead and it is all right.” As quickly as the telephone rang our conversation had ended. A peaceful calm had settled over me when I finally opened my eyes. I haven’t had a dream about my dad since. However, there is a repetitive vision that dances around my brain which occurs in the attic of my father and grandmother’s circa 1890s house. The physical home did not have an attic, but in the subconscious, the room was filled with tables, sofas, and lamps. There appears to be a secret entrance that enables the poor and homeless to enter, seeking both food and shelter. Although I’m not fearful of these people, the reality of my conscious state has me scratching my head wondering what it all means.
SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT
Another dream had me standing in the dark shadows, looking down the street to the neon lights of a seedy neighborhood bar. A person stumbles out to the sidewalk to light a cigarette when another person calmly walks out the front door and points a handgun toward the back of the other guy’s head. I can hear the din of jukebox music and bar patrons from my vantage point. Without reason, the gunman turns his head and his eyes lock onto mine. He smiles, puts his weapon away and reenters the tavern. The other fellow flicks his smoke to the ground and teeters back inside, never knowing how close to death he was.
One of my favorite dreams has me flying with little effort. I jump from the roof of my home, slowly flap my arms and off I go. I can fly high or swoop down low. The feeling is one of exhilaration as my body takes me over buildings and cities, witnessing everything below, without fear of falling. I can feel the slight resistance in the air as I wave my arms, yet it is all so effortless. What I find amazing about this experience is the fact I am deathly afraid of heights, but when I am soaring around I have no fear of dropping to the concrete below.
I THOUGHT I WANTED A YACHT
I have had dreams that placed the actor Omar Sharif in the center of a spy ring. There have been deaths, murders, falling, chases, being stuck in a thick elastic blob which prevents me from running away and basically there are images and scenes that cover every human emotion and reaction. Interestingly, my subconscious has never had me living on a yacht or being a millionaire. Why won’t my mind, at least, entertain me with a little of those indulgences?
LIGHTS, CAMERA, AND ACTION
So, as your day comes to a close and the curtains in the multiplex theater of the mind are raised, grab a bucket of imaginary popcorn and prepare for romance, intrigue, suspense, murder, adventure and even comedy. Let the films begin.
Written By: Dennis L. Page
Billy Joel Sings A Lullaby
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