Dream
In less than two hours' naptime, I dreamt the following:
I was in an apartment that had the layout of my gf's apartment (probably signifying nothing more than the fact that I've spent a lot of time there recently). It was apparently my father's apartment and I was visiting him for some reason that wasn't clear. At one point the doorbell rang and my father opened the door for an asian woman who appeared to be his neighbor. Or more, it soon turned out as he and this woman kissed. At this point, I kicked him in the head, knocking him back, and told the woman that my father had killed his previous wife -- my mother -- and strongly recommended that she walk away and never look back. (There are many of my psychological aspects in play here. One, my fear that the world is so unjust that he'll have another chance at happiness when my mother never can. Two, my pent-up desire to do violence upon him to compensate for the perceived lack of punishment he has gotten. Three, my protective streak in not wanting anyone to have to go through what our family had to go through. Four, my arrogant streak in thinking I know what is best for everyone better than they know themselves.)
After I revealed what my father had done, the woman seemed to be surprised as if she had not known, and she heeded my suggestion and walked away. I continued to perpetrate severe physical abuse onto my father, the kind that you see in Schwarzenegger movie end boss fights, except one-sided. (Catharsis.) It eventually zoomed out to overland map level and the audio track became a phone call from me to the police department where I said I was going to kill him and I was hidden and barricaded and nobody could stop me in time. (Fiction cliches.) I had blocked the entrance road to my Evil Lair (TM) with big logs on the road and the fire department was called in to clear them out.
At this point the perspective shifted to one of the firefighters as the call came in, a female one with a noticeable but not absolute resemblance to my mother, and she became the point of view character through whose eyes I was experiencing the dream. She was tired after too many hours awake but hopped behind the wheel of one of the fire trucks going to the roadblock. At one steep curve she lost control of the vehicle and it ran off road and flipped over multiple times before coming to a halt. None of the firefighters in the vehicle died or were seriously but she was in hysterical tears over how close it had been that she might have gotten someone crippled or dead and she blamed herself for driving with too little sleep and kept saying she was never going to drive again.
At that point the protagonist melted from the female firefighter back to me, although a teenage incarnation of myself, the hysterical tears continuing. Of all people, Obama showed up at the scene to comfort me and went into this big speech about how he was going to open an elementary school that was shaped like two upside down L-letters with four boxes hanging under each crossbeam representing a classroom. He was going to call it "Starfleet Academy" (representing my Star Trek addiction, duh) but it had nothing to do with spaceflight but instead about teaching children utopistic and idealistic ethical principles after (Star Trek creator) Gene Roddenberry's dreams. Basically, an elementary school where 24th century Star Trek utopia ethics were part of the curriculum. That's actually kind of cool. :D The teenage version of me ended up teaching at that school. (I think the teenage version of me represented my purer, more idealistic core still remaining inside me but these days buried under all the realism and cynicism that has taken me over during the past 20 years.)
It ended with teen-me teaching eight year old kids at the school about how to be better leaders for a humanistic, anticorporate future and how to believe in the innate goodness of human race.
Maybe that represents that I still have some hope for the future. :)
Maybe that's because of a certain someone. ;)
But stepping away from the psychoanalysis for a second, I sure don't have dull dreams. :D Considering all the negative things I described, one might think it might have been a nightmare, but although I was very tense when I woke up, I wouldn't characterize it that way. More like a tense thriller or action movie, but not a scary flick. I'm lucky in that I almost never have nightmares.
But now I have to finish up here so I can start getting ready to escort my certain someone to an eighties party. :) Later. :)
I was in an apartment that had the layout of my gf's apartment (probably signifying nothing more than the fact that I've spent a lot of time there recently). It was apparently my father's apartment and I was visiting him for some reason that wasn't clear. At one point the doorbell rang and my father opened the door for an asian woman who appeared to be his neighbor. Or more, it soon turned out as he and this woman kissed. At this point, I kicked him in the head, knocking him back, and told the woman that my father had killed his previous wife -- my mother -- and strongly recommended that she walk away and never look back. (There are many of my psychological aspects in play here. One, my fear that the world is so unjust that he'll have another chance at happiness when my mother never can. Two, my pent-up desire to do violence upon him to compensate for the perceived lack of punishment he has gotten. Three, my protective streak in not wanting anyone to have to go through what our family had to go through. Four, my arrogant streak in thinking I know what is best for everyone better than they know themselves.)
After I revealed what my father had done, the woman seemed to be surprised as if she had not known, and she heeded my suggestion and walked away. I continued to perpetrate severe physical abuse onto my father, the kind that you see in Schwarzenegger movie end boss fights, except one-sided. (Catharsis.) It eventually zoomed out to overland map level and the audio track became a phone call from me to the police department where I said I was going to kill him and I was hidden and barricaded and nobody could stop me in time. (Fiction cliches.) I had blocked the entrance road to my Evil Lair (TM) with big logs on the road and the fire department was called in to clear them out.
At this point the perspective shifted to one of the firefighters as the call came in, a female one with a noticeable but not absolute resemblance to my mother, and she became the point of view character through whose eyes I was experiencing the dream. She was tired after too many hours awake but hopped behind the wheel of one of the fire trucks going to the roadblock. At one steep curve she lost control of the vehicle and it ran off road and flipped over multiple times before coming to a halt. None of the firefighters in the vehicle died or were seriously but she was in hysterical tears over how close it had been that she might have gotten someone crippled or dead and she blamed herself for driving with too little sleep and kept saying she was never going to drive again.
At that point the protagonist melted from the female firefighter back to me, although a teenage incarnation of myself, the hysterical tears continuing. Of all people, Obama showed up at the scene to comfort me and went into this big speech about how he was going to open an elementary school that was shaped like two upside down L-letters with four boxes hanging under each crossbeam representing a classroom. He was going to call it "Starfleet Academy" (representing my Star Trek addiction, duh) but it had nothing to do with spaceflight but instead about teaching children utopistic and idealistic ethical principles after (Star Trek creator) Gene Roddenberry's dreams. Basically, an elementary school where 24th century Star Trek utopia ethics were part of the curriculum. That's actually kind of cool. :D The teenage version of me ended up teaching at that school. (I think the teenage version of me represented my purer, more idealistic core still remaining inside me but these days buried under all the realism and cynicism that has taken me over during the past 20 years.)
It ended with teen-me teaching eight year old kids at the school about how to be better leaders for a humanistic, anticorporate future and how to believe in the innate goodness of human race.
Maybe that represents that I still have some hope for the future. :)
Maybe that's because of a certain someone. ;)
But stepping away from the psychoanalysis for a second, I sure don't have dull dreams. :D Considering all the negative things I described, one might think it might have been a nightmare, but although I was very tense when I woke up, I wouldn't characterize it that way. More like a tense thriller or action movie, but not a scary flick. I'm lucky in that I almost never have nightmares.
But now I have to finish up here so I can start getting ready to escort my certain someone to an eighties party. :) Later. :)