Starting this day with a silly anecdote and again sharing my Eddie Van Halen Funko.
Last night, Lynne and I were texting about various things that included characters I write or have written or plan to write. Eddie Van Halen was mentioned in passing. We said goodnight, and afterward, I did a few more things on my phone before I closed all the apps and placed it face down on the table next to the bed.
If you know me at all, you know two things. One: With very few exceptions, I don’t like to talk on the phone. If you and I have spoken by phone, it means I’ve overcome my aversion for the sake of friendship and I’ve likely enjoyed those calls because of the friendship. But business calls, calls with other people who don’t like to talk on the phone, calls where it’s hard to hear the other person, GROUP calls on speakerphone–these are not my favorite things.
Two: I fully understand and often say that no one’s dreams are as interesting to anyone as they are to the dreamer. Sorry/not sorry: It’s just true. I think therapists who ask to hear their patients’ dreams are secretly making mental shopping lists, trying to remember lyrics to songs, or doing any other brain exercise while their patients ramble on. They interject an occasional, “What do you think that means?” or “Do you connect this stranger in the dream to someone in your life?” And while the patient then rambles some more, the therapist is thinking, “That Eagles album uses one of the most extended metaphors in modern music…”
This is your chance to stop reading.
I was sleeping soundly this morning around 6:30 and having a dream in which I was in some rural town with my grandnieces and grandnephews. I will spare you the details of which ones and all the things we were doing and discussing. But we decided to go for a walk through the countryside, talking and laughing along the way. We heard the loud noise of a motorcycle coming toward us from a trail/dirt drive, and the rider came into view. He did a few spins, smiled and nodded our way, then turned back the way he’d come. The kids didn’t react much, and I said, “Do you not know who that was?” They shook their heads, and I said, “That was Eddie Van Halen.”
At that point, I could hear someone talking next to me, and I woke up. The voice was coming from my lit up phone, so I picked it up while putting on my glasses. Lynne’s contact picture was on the screen, and the call voice was saying, “Press one to [do something], or press [some other number] to leave a message.” I was confused and I think I pressed one, and the call stopped, and I put the phone down, extremely disoriented. A minute or so later, the phone rang, I answered, and Lynne said, “What?” I explained that my phone, not I, had for some reason decided to call her, so we hung up because FFS, it was 6:30 AM! Right after that, first my phone, then Tom’s, BLARED alerts that the boil water advisory for the city of Houston had been lifted and all water has been found safe.
I then told Tom about my phone deciding to call Lynne for no apparent reason, even though all apps were closed, and the text exchange with her wasn’t the final thing I did on the phone last night. He said, “It’s almost like you told Siri to call Lynne.”
Is it possible that I said, “That was Eddie Van Halen” out loud in my sleep, and does that sound like “Siri, call Lynne?” Especially since I never speak to Siri or give her directions at all.
All I know is, I was up way too early, but I took my meds, mopped the library floor, and filled the dogs’ outside water buckets with safe water that we’d boiled yesterday.
If you stuck with me to the end of this, I’ll remind you that today is Giving Tuesday. If you’re unable to donate to any of the great organizations who help people, animals, and the planet, maybe just start giving your change back to businesses that collect for charity, like McDonald’s does for Ronald McDonald House.
And give a kind thought to anyone–friend, family, dead musician–who can make you smile in a dream–but don’t feel compelled to call me to tell me about it. SORRY, LYNNE! 😄
“This is your chance to stop readi-“
“”What do you think that means?””
When Ye Olde LJ was the place, I used to try to bonk the keyboard about my dreams. But, sometimes that was more an exercise on trying to keep them in my head than placing them
into other’s. But I did enjoy trying to keep them preserved while sharing them with others regardless for better or worse. It was better than reading a terse set of incomplete thoughts of toothbrushes. Then, I did something stupid with Flickr links that meant I would have to go through all of LJ and fix them. So, I stopped. Also, I think gay bashing at a grocery store had something too. Some of those dreams I still remember, but how do I know I forgot the others?
Last night, I had a classic dream of trying to get two term papers started and ended the same afternoon they were due. So, I woke up, and poooffff! I didn’t have to write term papers anymore; however, I had to get through morning rituals and go to work instead. “””What do you think that means?”””
?
I spent a good part of an online meeting this morning contemplating the dream and the reality. I couldn’t help it.
There’s nothing wrong with contemplating your own dreams, and lots of people keep dream journals. I love my dreams because I like to figure out what messages my subconscious is trying to send me. My dreams also give me ideas for my writing.
I’ve told this story on here before. A coworker once found out I had a conversation with someone else about dream symbolism, and she came to me and asked me to analyze one of her dreams. I’m in no way qualified to do so, but I researched some dream stuff and tried to help her out. No good deed goes unpunished. She then visited my desk every workday morning and told me her dreams in great detail. It was numbing, time-consuming, and ultimately annoying. I reminded her I wasn’t an analyst or therapist, but she didn’t really care if I gave her answers. She just wanted to relay these dreams that meant absolutely nothing to me; we were barely acquainted.
Dreams can be funny, profound, disturbing, enlightening, and extremely emotional for a dreamer because they tap into a person’s entire life, frame of reference, experiences, lovers, and enemies. Nobody else will likely ever be that invested in another person’s dreams, though if it’s someone with whom we’re particularly intimate, or whose life and history are well known to us, we might feel some of what they feel and understand their reactions to a dream. In the case of people with whom we feel close, we’re far more likely to offer them the chance to talk about their REACTIONS to a dream, and reassure, comfort, or laugh with them, as warranted, than to want or need to hear an in-depth retelling of the dream.
i was sleeping so hard. that phone is mean
If I’m going to start talking in my sleep, that phone needs to go to another room. Who knows who Siri might call next.
Nice dream. But it’s no kissing Michael
Okay, would you rather I have that dream?
Don’t you dare!
I wouldn’t dream of it! Friend Code: Never go after a friend’s real-life dude or fantasy dude. Respect those boundaries in word and deed. And if you should dream about one, it’s a good time to remember that maybe a relationship (or a person–either the friend or the dude) has some quality that you admire (or fear).
Also, that’s a particularly good time to heed the advice to keep a dream to yourself.
I told a friend about my dream involving grocery carts and she went into a deep indepth analysis. And after 20 minutes I said or it means I work right next to the cart well
Your friend should meet my former coworker from… 25(?) years ago. One could provide the dreams, and the other could analyze.
PS I love that Eddie takes bike rides in your dreams
Just saw a picture of Steve ducking Perry sitting next to Eddie I was all get away from him yo monster
Ha. 06.30 is early for you.
My sleep schedule is so screwy these days.