When I was in college, my senior capstone class was simply titled, “Dreaming.”
We studied the nature of dreams and their history in psychology, spirituality, and philosophy. There were two parts to the class – one academic and one practical. The academic part was pouring through literature about dreams, such as the huge volumes Freud had put together. Lots of lectures, you know, typical college crap.
The practical component was very different.
We were to keep a dream journal every night and write down whatever we remembered in the morning. After a few weeks, just because of practice, it was easy for me to remember three to five dreams upon awakening. We would take our most incomprehensible dream and bring it to a small group in a dark therapy room. One person would read their dream and then put their head down. The rest of the group would analyze and interpret the dream. It was great fun.
Even all these years later, I’m able to remember at least a few dreams every night. Most of my dreams are troublesome, and full of anxiety and fear. Maybe once a year I score the winning touchdown, or go on a first date with some beautiful woman and fall in love. At least three nights a week it’s that I didn’t study for the big exam because I skipped class all semester, and I’m panicked. I don’t know why, but I’m still stuck in college fear, and it’s 14 years later.
But whenever I have a dream about one of my friends, I can’t wait to tell them. I probably do this at least once a week. “Hey, you were in a dream I had last night! You were playing in a calypso band in the Keys!”
Only once has somebody told me I was in a dream of theirs. It was a friend who told me that I was chasing her around a dining room table with a knife. That did wonders for my self-esteem.
So, people must have dreams about me, right? I know that reads like an arrogant question from a jerk with a personality disorder, but I’m just talking law of averages. I’ve dreamed about all my friends hundreds of times (that I remember). So, I probably show up in other’s heads.
I don’t really care if I do or not, but I’m sure I’m in a least a few dreams per year. Now, let’s assume I’m not knifing somebody or terrorizing them on the gradeschool playground. Just a good old fashioned, “Hey, I was shopping at Big Lots, and you were in the irregular candy aisle buying off-brand Sweet Tarts!”
Nobody ever says this to me. I want to know if I’m in your dreams! So, make this deal with me – if you read this, and I show up, you MUST tell me about the dream. Not to satisfy my ego – it’s big enough. I just want to know that I’m not nuts about dreaming about everyone I know.
Now, if I end up doing something awful to you in a dream, keep that to yourself. Actually, no, tell it. I can handle it. I think.