Sigmund Freud had cornered a market with his dream analysis and subliminal thematic dissection of the subconscious mind. But I wonder what good ole Sigmund would think of my dreamscapes: cinematic marvels that often go on in technicolor all while I’m far away in REM sleep. Anyone who’s heard my elaborately detailed dreams would tell you that it could put the most attentive person into a catatonic state. At every turn, there’s some kind of detail which I flag as some sort of undeniable symbolism and away we go into No Man’s Land.
So the latest dream I had involved a shoe store. I’m wandering around this shoe store and all of a sudden, I find the perfect pair of shite shoes. Excitedly, I pick up the box and declare that I want to buy these perfect shoes. But I am distracted by a pair of sneakers and just as I turn back around to find the white shoes, I notice someone swipe the shoes I wanted and escape out the store. I angrily shout out: “Hey, those are my shoes!!!” And I get an attendant who seems to not notice what the heck I’m going on about. I turn to anyone in the store who’ll hear me and say, “That was the most perfect pair and I wanted them and I can’t believe someone just stole my shoes!!” But no one seems to be moved or acknowledge me in any way. I feel dejected and annoyed.
Does anyone really need to have annoying dreams like this? I mean really. It’s not bad enough that someone can grab the last pair of shoes in real life but why in the world would one carry that kind of bad luck into the subconscious realm? Isn’t dream life supposed to be fantasy and perfect in every way? Shouldn’t dreams be on your side? Seriously. So yeah. But forget that. What followed was another completely frightening portal into the mind.
Sting, the singer is dressed like a metal-head leather-clad freak. In the dream, he is instructing someone on how to instill fear in a human being. He goes in front of a dilapidated chalkboard and squeaks in white chalk the word: RATS. Then, Sting begins to warn the guy he’s instructing that if the guy was weak, to not go into the next room. The horrors in the next room apparently would be too much for any faint of heart. I step aside in the dream and say something like, “I don’t want to see this.” Then, the dream starts to play like a movie that I have successfully paused. The person I’m with–who’s off-camera–says that it only gets worse from that scene on so it’s a good thing that I decided not to continue.
Okay, now here I have to say…what the f**k?? Why in the world would my mind conjure up such strangeness? Most of the time, I can easily decipher my dreams but lately, they get more detailed and convoluted than they ever were before. And so I leave it to you, my viewing public. What in the hell is my mind manifesting? Is there some sort of message I’m missing? Am I going nuts? Why is Sting in my dreams?
I’m interested in seeing what you’re twisted minds come up with. I dare ya…