My first attempt at starting up a dream journal again.
Since the summer of 2006, I have had a recurring dream. I think its the first recurring dream I've ever had. The details are a little different every time, but the same general conflict always comes up, and produces the same emotional response.
Unfortunately, I have long since abandoned any attempt to keep a dream journal, so I can't provide details for every incident, but I know I have had this dream enough times for it to really get to me.
Last night, I had it again.
Last night's dream session was pretty long, consisting of two acts. I can't remember anything from the first half, other than this vague feeling that it explained how I got to the state I was in, for the second half.
The recurring element is this: I am just about to graduate college. I'm so close to graduating that the commencement ceremony is that upcoming weekend, and my parents are coming up for it. No one has gotten their grades yet, but everything is closed up, so the actual ending of the academic semester is basically a formality waiting to happen.
And then it hits me like a freight train: I have blown off an entire class, and its necessary course work.
I blew it off because I was just done with school, academia, the path I was on, everything... and I just zoned out.
And because its college, and we're all grown ups and take responsibility for our own actions - no one - attempted to put me back on the track.
So it occurs to me, at the last possible minute, that my apathy has cost me seriously. I panic; I wonder if it will be really bad. Can I appeal this? How do I explain to my family that I'm not graduating? I can't afford any more time at the school, so I will just leave it... incomplete.
The panic and the confusion overwhelms me. So much so that when I wake up, I feel anxious and uncomfortable.
Sometimes I've been so disoriented by it, that I don't know where I am or what day it is, and I might still have time to fix it - like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Day.
Even with my eyes wide open and fully awake, it still takes several minutes for my sub-conscious to settle down and realize that I did in fact graduate college in the spring of 2006.
Again, I don't really remember too many of the specific details of the previous dreams. One time, I think I actually showed up to the last session of the class in question, and realized in front of everyone. Another time, it was a U.S. History class I brushed off and forgot about (and believe me, the irony was not lost on me).
So now onto last night: I don't remember the first act, but I know it somehow leads to me the second act (think Dr. House in the strip club, after the bus accident).
I am with my toddler son. He is old enough to have a tuft of curly, blonde hair on his head and talk, but he is still discovering everything for the first time.
I am sitting on a couch in what looks like a student lounge, and my son is sitting on my lap. There are other people in the room talking non-descriptively, and the TV is on but no one is paying attention to it. To my right are my good friends George Carlin and Elvis Costello (I think its Elvis, that detail has gotten hazy since I woke up). We're chatting, and then we decide to get high. Luckily, George has enough joints for all three of us.
So I am sitting there getting high, with my son on my lap. He's asking me questions about the pot, and I try to explain that its something grown-ups do. And more importantly, he shouldn't tell his mom that he saw me doing this. I am courteous enough to not blow smoke in his face. And in my head I am thinking "Wow, I really can't keep getting high now that I have a kid. I really need to curb this shit."
And that's when the missing class realization occurs to me.
*In this dream, it was some sort of media seminar. And the teacher is Peg Aloi - who I had for my "British Cinema" class, in the waking life. Apparently, this is my dream self's second class with her because I already know there is no way she will accept any last minute, diploma-saving appeals.*
And then I panic:
My wife is coming back from some activity in a few minutes, and there is no way I can effectively disguise my stoned-ness without looking suspect. And I know my son in his naive, young nature will mention what I was doing to her - unless I am always hovering over him protecting this lie for the rest of my life - which is no way for a father to behave.
I start to imagine what my wife will say when she finds out how badly I screwed up my studies. She'll blame it all on the pot. Then she'll point out how quickly she adapted and matured after being thrust into the mother role, and accuse me of refusing to grow up. And then I start to think this might finally be the thing that causes me to lose her. Then I realize that my parents will justifiably not bail me out of this, and that I will have to deal with years of serious financial debt to them and the school. And then I start to yell at myself for getting so high, and becoming irrationally paranoid. And finally I beg George and Elvis to help defend my character, when the inevitable storm approaches. Of course they'll help me; they're my best friends and what I did isn't *that* bad.
And that's when I woke up this morning...
Observations...
* I'm pretty sure that it was Elvis Costello. I've been listening to "My Aim is True" pretty heavily for the past couple of days. And I've been contemplating Rick Moody's comment that he understands "what it's like to be judged by the riotous feelings of your younger incarnation, like Elvis Costello is."
* Obviously, this dream has only been re-occuring since I graduated college. Which I guess would mean, sub-consciously, I feel like I have unfinished business. I definitely wish I had more time to pursue more classes and explore more corners of academia, but at the same time I don't feel like putting up with the labor of grad-school. I certainly hope its not a case of Neverland Syndrome.
* All the father/husband details are new. Also, whenever the dream happens I am portrayed as my current self. When it started, I was 23. But last night, I was a 25 year old senior, with my same long hair and black hoodie.
*Where the fuck did George Carlin come from?
* I could tie a lot of it together with the same sub-conscious anxieties. Say "don't worry about them so much" and move on. But everything was visualized with such crystal-clearness, that it can't be that simplistic and heavy-handed. Plus, could the whole pot thing could be screamed any louder to me? I'm sure there are deeper layers of the onion to peel away. If for nothing else, I'm still so intrigued by the nature of dreams that I don't want to be such a wet blanket and de-mystify the whole thing, just for the sake of re-assuring myself that I'm a know-it-all.
* For what's it worth, in my last semester at Emerson, I blew off a pretty important class. It was only for the first two weeks and the teacher really got on my case about the danger of failing from the get-go. At the time, I couldn't verbalize why the burn-out happened, and I wanted her to understand that it was never meant to be a sign of disrespect. I probably still don't completely know where the apathy came from - especially since it was the class I had been most excited for, for a good 18 months. I couldn't get past her first impression of me as a burn-out - so I approached the whole semester more neurotically than I would have liked (big surprise I know).
* I'm not sure how often I have this dream. I know I have had it at least once this year (I think maybe sometime in the summer). I should say on average, I have it seasonally, which is a pretty fucked way of doing a mental tally.
* When/if I finally get over it, I wonder if it will completely vanish from my brain. Or will it linger in some hidden corner of my mind waiting to jump out and terrify me with a monster-like effectiveness?
* Fuck, I did not intend to stay up until 3:30 am writing this.
* If it provides any extra insight: my wife was played by Natalie Portman.
Unfortunately, I have long since abandoned any attempt to keep a dream journal, so I can't provide details for every incident, but I know I have had this dream enough times for it to really get to me.
Last night, I had it again.
Last night's dream session was pretty long, consisting of two acts. I can't remember anything from the first half, other than this vague feeling that it explained how I got to the state I was in, for the second half.
The recurring element is this: I am just about to graduate college. I'm so close to graduating that the commencement ceremony is that upcoming weekend, and my parents are coming up for it. No one has gotten their grades yet, but everything is closed up, so the actual ending of the academic semester is basically a formality waiting to happen.
And then it hits me like a freight train: I have blown off an entire class, and its necessary course work.
I blew it off because I was just done with school, academia, the path I was on, everything... and I just zoned out.
And because its college, and we're all grown ups and take responsibility for our own actions - no one - attempted to put me back on the track.
So it occurs to me, at the last possible minute, that my apathy has cost me seriously. I panic; I wonder if it will be really bad. Can I appeal this? How do I explain to my family that I'm not graduating? I can't afford any more time at the school, so I will just leave it... incomplete.
The panic and the confusion overwhelms me. So much so that when I wake up, I feel anxious and uncomfortable.
Sometimes I've been so disoriented by it, that I don't know where I am or what day it is, and I might still have time to fix it - like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Day.
Even with my eyes wide open and fully awake, it still takes several minutes for my sub-conscious to settle down and realize that I did in fact graduate college in the spring of 2006.
Again, I don't really remember too many of the specific details of the previous dreams. One time, I think I actually showed up to the last session of the class in question, and realized in front of everyone. Another time, it was a U.S. History class I brushed off and forgot about (and believe me, the irony was not lost on me).
So now onto last night: I don't remember the first act, but I know it somehow leads to me the second act (think Dr. House in the strip club, after the bus accident).
I am with my toddler son. He is old enough to have a tuft of curly, blonde hair on his head and talk, but he is still discovering everything for the first time.
I am sitting on a couch in what looks like a student lounge, and my son is sitting on my lap. There are other people in the room talking non-descriptively, and the TV is on but no one is paying attention to it. To my right are my good friends George Carlin and Elvis Costello (I think its Elvis, that detail has gotten hazy since I woke up). We're chatting, and then we decide to get high. Luckily, George has enough joints for all three of us.
So I am sitting there getting high, with my son on my lap. He's asking me questions about the pot, and I try to explain that its something grown-ups do. And more importantly, he shouldn't tell his mom that he saw me doing this. I am courteous enough to not blow smoke in his face. And in my head I am thinking "Wow, I really can't keep getting high now that I have a kid. I really need to curb this shit."
And that's when the missing class realization occurs to me.
*In this dream, it was some sort of media seminar. And the teacher is Peg Aloi - who I had for my "British Cinema" class, in the waking life. Apparently, this is my dream self's second class with her because I already know there is no way she will accept any last minute, diploma-saving appeals.*
And then I panic:
My wife is coming back from some activity in a few minutes, and there is no way I can effectively disguise my stoned-ness without looking suspect. And I know my son in his naive, young nature will mention what I was doing to her - unless I am always hovering over him protecting this lie for the rest of my life - which is no way for a father to behave.
I start to imagine what my wife will say when she finds out how badly I screwed up my studies. She'll blame it all on the pot. Then she'll point out how quickly she adapted and matured after being thrust into the mother role, and accuse me of refusing to grow up. And then I start to think this might finally be the thing that causes me to lose her. Then I realize that my parents will justifiably not bail me out of this, and that I will have to deal with years of serious financial debt to them and the school. And then I start to yell at myself for getting so high, and becoming irrationally paranoid. And finally I beg George and Elvis to help defend my character, when the inevitable storm approaches. Of course they'll help me; they're my best friends and what I did isn't *that* bad.
And that's when I woke up this morning...
Observations...
* I'm pretty sure that it was Elvis Costello. I've been listening to "My Aim is True" pretty heavily for the past couple of days. And I've been contemplating Rick Moody's comment that he understands "what it's like to be judged by the riotous feelings of your younger incarnation, like Elvis Costello is."
* Obviously, this dream has only been re-occuring since I graduated college. Which I guess would mean, sub-consciously, I feel like I have unfinished business. I definitely wish I had more time to pursue more classes and explore more corners of academia, but at the same time I don't feel like putting up with the labor of grad-school. I certainly hope its not a case of Neverland Syndrome.
* All the father/husband details are new. Also, whenever the dream happens I am portrayed as my current self. When it started, I was 23. But last night, I was a 25 year old senior, with my same long hair and black hoodie.
*Where the fuck did George Carlin come from?
* I could tie a lot of it together with the same sub-conscious anxieties. Say "don't worry about them so much" and move on. But everything was visualized with such crystal-clearness, that it can't be that simplistic and heavy-handed. Plus, could the whole pot thing could be screamed any louder to me? I'm sure there are deeper layers of the onion to peel away. If for nothing else, I'm still so intrigued by the nature of dreams that I don't want to be such a wet blanket and de-mystify the whole thing, just for the sake of re-assuring myself that I'm a know-it-all.
* For what's it worth, in my last semester at Emerson, I blew off a pretty important class. It was only for the first two weeks and the teacher really got on my case about the danger of failing from the get-go. At the time, I couldn't verbalize why the burn-out happened, and I wanted her to understand that it was never meant to be a sign of disrespect. I probably still don't completely know where the apathy came from - especially since it was the class I had been most excited for, for a good 18 months. I couldn't get past her first impression of me as a burn-out - so I approached the whole semester more neurotically than I would have liked (big surprise I know).
* I'm not sure how often I have this dream. I know I have had it at least once this year (I think maybe sometime in the summer). I should say on average, I have it seasonally, which is a pretty fucked way of doing a mental tally.
* When/if I finally get over it, I wonder if it will completely vanish from my brain. Or will it linger in some hidden corner of my mind waiting to jump out and terrify me with a monster-like effectiveness?
* Fuck, I did not intend to stay up until 3:30 am writing this.
* If it provides any extra insight: my wife was played by Natalie Portman.