Oh, man!! What a weird dream!
The dreams that I seem to remember the strongest seem to come around right before I wake up.
Last night’s was no exception…weird. I remember that all the dogs I’d ever met on the mail route…and probably some more that I’d met along the way…were in my dream. I was at a party…a big outdoor party full of people I’d never seen before…and the only ones I was familiar with were these dogs.
These dogs were running around and having fun…the people were “making” over them, complimenting them on their spirit and enthusiasm. Next thing I knew, every one of the dogs was getting a bath…and they were all enjoying it! Multiple tubs of soapy suds….every one of them full of one or two smiling, wet dogs.
What a party it was! A wet and soapy dog is a real icebreaker…it seems like things were really kicking into high gear when the dog washing began.
It seemed like the only real thing that was going on at the party was the part with the dogs. That part was pretty straightforward …just a bunch of folks having fun giving a bunch of happy dogs a bath.
The next part of the dream that I remember that was really strange was that every single guest that was attending the party had an “emotions interpreter”. Every action, every thought, every feeling the guest had was run through this other person’s interpretation. Nobody knew what was going on with themselves until they ran it by the interpreter.
Maybe it was some weird subconscious thing trying to tell me to rely on my own intuitions and conclusions? I don’t really know.
I remember in my dream that I wondered how these people made it through the day. I didn’t have an interpreter…I was an emotional satellite, an untethered wallflower…I was just there to observe. It seemed like everything was taking twice as long…it was a slow process to experience but then have to wait for someone else to tell you how you felt about it all. Until the people got the lowdown on what they’d been up to, they were just confused and lost…baffled by their own spontaneity. And the process itself seemed to be an experience killer….all these people seemed nervous, like they had some lengthy ordeal ahead of them filled with paperwork and administrative hassles every time they tried anything new.
It was a strange dream, to say the least.
The interpreters seemed to be pretty comfortable with the arrangement. It was law that every citizen be subject to constant interpretation…and it was law that the conclusions were never challenged. Because it was law, every interpretation was always correct…or, if not always correct, never questioned.
It was a good job to be an interpreter.
The regular people…the ones being interpreted…seemed pretty OK with it all. It’s hard work to figure out why we do anything…it must have been a comfort to have someone else telling you what it all meant…even if the answers were wrong.
It’s pretty scary to stand on your own, sometimes.
A dream is just a dream…just a bunch of stuff rattling around in our heads waiting for the right morning for us to wake up and be remembered. I don’t need anybody to interpret anything in my life….I don’t need any help in that regard.
I have enough of a problem just beating my own interpretation to death.
Now…does anyone have a nice big dog that I can adopt?