It’s been a long time since I’ve added a dream here, but it’s not for lack of dreaming, of course. It’s just hard to write down the weirdness sometimes.
Last night’s dream was fairly simple (by Lainie standards). I was a man (don’t know why I dream I’m different people sometimes) and I was kind of a slack-jawed hairy dazed and confused type (but with a heart of gold, of course). Hmm, I can see this is going to be a very parenthetical sort of dream story.
Early in the dream my slacker friends and I were all racing down a street in various cars, then stopping to switch cars and all squeeze into one little car (which was much like my Mazda 5 in real life–not really a slacker-type car). Then we all went to a huge store (even bigger than the nearby huge Shop-Rite, which I hate–I prefer the smaller Stop & Shop) to get some munchies. As we were walking around, I realized I had a stash of marijuana on me. The especially odd thing about this being in my dream is that I’ve never tried marijuana or any other illegal substance in my life (in spite of living in the Netherlands for two years). I have definitely smelled it and seen other people under the influence of it, but I’ve never even seen a baggy of it except on television. But here I was in dreamland with it in my hand. I was still enough of myself, in spite of being a man, that I was shocked to find it there. So I proceeded to tuck it in my waistband to hide it (not sure why I didn’t put it in a pocket; I guess my waistband seemed sneakier). However, it was such a thick bag of weed that I feared it was a big of an obvious bulge there.
Then my slacker friends were all in a crumbling old house (uh oh, here I go dreaming about a house again–is this house representative of my inner self?) I didn’t want most of them to know about my Mary Jane bag, so I was trying to hide it. I was also very afraid of being busted by the cops, though the one friend I’d confided in assured me that I was better off hiding it than trying to sell it, since I’d get in more trouble for pushing it than just for possession. So we went all over the old house trying to find an appropriate crack in the baseboards to hide my weed. We were surreptitiously moving aside furniture and feeling along floorboards hoping the other dudes wouldn’t notice. Then I awoke. I have no idea if I was able to hide my stash.
We got new windows and new siding on our house. We have a lot more work to do still, but here’s how it looks so far.
Front Before:
Front After:
Back Before:
Back After:
Next we plan to put some paving stones for a patio in the back and paths around to the front.
Last night I dreamed my mom was talking me into buying a house in Atlanta. For part of the dream I was apparently just out of college and single, but of course as often happens while I’m dreaming, I remembered I’m actually a married mother of 2 . Still, I really wanted that house in Atlanta (I live in NY state, by the way). I was also flirting with some icky older man so that he would do some renovation work for me–totally not like me. I don’t even know how to flirt, really, and I’ve never used it for personal gain (other than gaining boyfriends, and like I said, I don’t know how to flirt so I didn’t gain many when single).
Anyway, I did really like the house (and yes, I do dream about houses a lot). This one was not as large, rambling, bizarre, or haunted as the ones I usually dream about, though. It was pretty much a standard large ranch-style house, except that some of the bedrooms were connected not by a hallway but by doors straight to the other bedrooms. It had 6 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms, which I thought rocked. I also had great plans for one room to be a big workout room. I was even planning on getting online to my fitness forums and writing to friends in Atlanta to tell them I was moving down. So my fitness interests were definitely leaking into dreamland last night.
This was a strange dream in its very normalcy. It’s unusual for me to have such a dull sort of dream (though I enjoyed the house while dreaming about it). I woke up disappointed, on the one hand, that I wasn’t getting a bigger house with a workout room, but glad I wasn’t moving to Atlanta (though it’s a lovely town) and glad I still live with a hubby and 2 kids.
I know I haven’t written about many of my dreams here yet, but I have several I’ve written short reminder bits on so that I can later write about them here. Actually, I just counted and there are about 8 of them on the list so far.
A couple nights ago I had another one involving a weird large house (probably about my weird inner self again). This time the house was my supposedly my dad and step-mom’s house. I actually haven’t seen their newest house so it would be really freaky if it turned out to be like in my dream, wouldn’t it? Anyway, they had this massive, bizarre house that was a converted church (weird since they live in the Dallas area where you are more likely to find movie theaters or strip mall stores converted to churches rather than churches converted to houses).
In this dream I was really afraid to go in the attic, though I had been there before and knew it was haunted. Woooo-oooo (that was me doing ghostly noises). Still, I decided to go into the secret passageways below the attic, and there I found my 3 teenage nephews chilling with some friends. Somehow we all ended up going into the attic. We also did some roller-skating in the attic with a disco ball overhead (boy, throwback to junior high, there–anybody else as old as I am remember “couple skates”–the terror, the anticipation, the joy when you had someone actually cute to skate with, the agony when your friend’s homely and slightly “special” little brother wanted to skate with you?)
Still, amidst all the skating and stuff, we did have some freaky experiences of objects flying around the room for no apparent reason. Then we all got a bit hysterical and had to find our way out of the basement again. I managed to go out through a ground level door (apparently this house was built in the side of a hill) and as I skidded down the hill to the front door, I passed some old men in karate uniforms. They were going up to the attic for a karate class. Huh.
That’s all I remember at this time. My notes about this dream are actually upstairs, so if I go up there and find that I forgot something, I’ll add it later.
I wonder what this house dream says about my inner self. Perhaps I should not inquire too deeply.
Last night’s dream is a bit hazy in my mind, but I remember certain elements of it. First there was some complicated driving of an SUV over rough terrain to find the right place to park outside a half-ruined mall (huge like the local mall, but the local mall is thriving rather than ruined). Then I ran into my step-brother Doug in the middle of the mall (odd since he lives over 1600 miles away in reality). He was joyously exclaiming about the birth of a new baby–his wife was in a hospital attached to the mall. He showed me the baby and then put it down. We were chatting away when we realized the baby was missing. It had actually crawled away (pretty darn impressive in a newborn, I know) and we had to dodge between other mall-goers and grab the baby. Another guy tried to grab it at the same time and then he looked at us like we were baby-snatchers. I assured him that Doug was the Daddy and a very good Daddy even though the kid got away from him, because after all, who expects a newborn to get away?
Then, as often happens in the middle of a dream, my subconscious remembered that I also have children, and there they were. However, by now there was a terrorist scare in the mall and I had to take my kids and run to the house. Now our house was just across the street, but it was pouring rain, so it was no easy feat to get the boys there quickly. Then I had to go around closing doors and windows, because of both rain and terrorists roaming the streets. Of course (as always happens in these locking down the house dreams) I had plenty of struggles getting things locked properly.
I mentioned in a previous post the theory I once heard that when you dream of a house it represents your inner self (need to look that up again). Well, a common theme of my house dreams is this inability to lock it down from outside threats. I’m not sure what this means about my inner self, but maybe I have some weird paranoia going on or something.
Here’s a dream I had last Saturday night. Actually it’s a few dreams that all ran together. One involved our house, which was not quite the same as our actual house anyway. It was falling apart–terribly–like the floors were tearing apart so you could see the basement below. The house thing is actually something I can sort of interpret–I seem to remember that when you dream of a house, the house represents your inner self. Usually when I dream of a house, it’s a weird big rambling place with lots of secret rooms (which I guess is like me) or I’m rushing around trying to lock all the windows and doors before bad people come (which is probably some self-protective thing). This was the first time I remember the house literally coming apart, though–funny thing is I feel pretty normal and happy when awake. Maybe the house coming apart has to do with all my injuries and illnesses the last few months?
I also dreamed that I was back in school again and hadn’t done any of my homework for 6 different classes. (I get those a lot.) Then there was another dream where my dad gave me a strange really old car–large, powder blue and bulbous. My dad does really like old cars, and has had his share of MGs, dune buggies, motorcycles, and other random vehicles, but he usually doesn’t go for the huge kind and he doesn’t give them away. Plus I seem to remember him telling me before that he didn’t like blue cars. Curiouser and curiouser.
