My Mental Health Dream
Well, here's a twist to the usual co-counseling/college reunion/summer vacation dream: a good, old-fashioned funny farm, the kind they probably outlawed a generation ago, but Frederick Wiseman made famous in his documentary "Titicut Follies" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Titicut_Follies
I should have seen this coming: I spend enough time at the nursing home to consider myself an inmate.
And, the odd thing was that it was not a scary dream. It was oddly pleasurable. I was at pains to go return to sleep so I could continue the dream. The storyline was fairly simple; I think I checked myself into the place, a vast farm-like entity on the outskirts of New York City. It's location was revealed by the fact that at some point I was allowed a furlough of some sort and I was able to reach Brooklyn (symbolized by the Williamsburgh Savings Bank) by taking a bus.
I don't remember how the dream started. But, as I said, the circumstances were not onerous; this was not a dream where I spent the better part of it plotting my escape. On the contrary, I seemed to have pretty much free rein to come and go as I pleased. The few imperatives involved meetings with officials. Apparently, I was doing so well as an inmate, that I was being interviewed for some kind of position on the staff.
This would not be first community I have joined where I felt the inmates could do as good or better job of running the asylum than the authorities, whomever they may be. It's the iconoclast in me. In fact, the only thing to distinguish between this latest dream and a co-counseling dream was the overall color scheme. My co-counseling/vacation/reunion dreams tend to be bathed in white and gold and dipped in a kind of nostalgia. The facilities here were clearly more run-down and grayer in tone.
Notably, the same anxiety around packing and moving and locating personal belongings seemed to frame a lot of my activity. Apparently, in the weeks or months during which I have been in this facility, I had occupied several rooms -- and, perhaps an office or two -- with evidence of my existence there all over the place. One additional bit of narcissism may have been provided by the fact that the entire dream was part of some kind of reality-based television show. I don't remember seeing any cameras, but, I do remember seeing a CBS logo as I was falling back asleep and just before I woke up for good.
I should have seen this coming: I spend enough time at the nursing home to consider myself an inmate.
And, the odd thing was that it was not a scary dream. It was oddly pleasurable. I was at pains to go return to sleep so I could continue the dream. The storyline was fairly simple; I think I checked myself into the place, a vast farm-like entity on the outskirts of New York City. It's location was revealed by the fact that at some point I was allowed a furlough of some sort and I was able to reach Brooklyn (symbolized by the Williamsburgh Savings Bank) by taking a bus.
I don't remember how the dream started. But, as I said, the circumstances were not onerous; this was not a dream where I spent the better part of it plotting my escape. On the contrary, I seemed to have pretty much free rein to come and go as I pleased. The few imperatives involved meetings with officials. Apparently, I was doing so well as an inmate, that I was being interviewed for some kind of position on the staff.
This would not be first community I have joined where I felt the inmates could do as good or better job of running the asylum than the authorities, whomever they may be. It's the iconoclast in me. In fact, the only thing to distinguish between this latest dream and a co-counseling dream was the overall color scheme. My co-counseling/vacation/reunion dreams tend to be bathed in white and gold and dipped in a kind of nostalgia. The facilities here were clearly more run-down and grayer in tone.
Notably, the same anxiety around packing and moving and locating personal belongings seemed to frame a lot of my activity. Apparently, in the weeks or months during which I have been in this facility, I had occupied several rooms -- and, perhaps an office or two -- with evidence of my existence there all over the place. One additional bit of narcissism may have been provided by the fact that the entire dream was part of some kind of reality-based television show. I don't remember seeing any cameras, but, I do remember seeing a CBS logo as I was falling back asleep and just before I woke up for good.