I have very vivid, colorful dreams, peopled with folks I know and tons of celebrities. I really, really ought to start capturing some of them (the dreams, not the celebrities), because I’m sure there’s a story somewhere in there.
Take for instance the one I had the night before last that I mentioned on Facebook. I was editing some dude’s story, working feverishly to finish while my dd was ransacking his files looking for something that proved he’d committed a crime. I kept worrying about him returning too quickly and catching her, and I worried about a sentence I kept having to re-read because I knew something was wrong with it, but I couldn’t figure out what. What did that dream mean? I consulted my copy of the Dream Dictionary, but found nothing under “editing”. Go figure.
I’ve dreamed of buying a mansion with an underground pool, where you enter it from the basement steps. The water is a bit murky and lit from beneath. It’s a gorgeous grotto the Beverly Hillbillies would have loved. The dictionary tells me the basement is where we “bury” trauma. As in bodies of those we’ve wronged. Hmmm. Not quite. My basement wasn’t sinister. So, I looked up “pool”—it’s the “inner world of our thoughts and fantasies”. Put together? I have no clue what it means! I just remember the water feeling slippery and warm and wishing I could swim there forever.
Then there’s the weird shark dream I had…
My dd entered me in a reality show competition. I was game but didn’t know what the competition involved. Until I arrived at a big underground pool…
Wait a second. Pool, again?
The atmosphere was like that of a fight club, people ringing the pool. I felt the tension in the room as I descended the steps. Then I came around a column and saw what the competition involved. Sharks were tethered to a pole. All species—great whites, tiger sharks, huge basking sharks. The sharks had saddles on their backs.
I pulled up short, swung toward my dd, and shook my head.
She gave me a pat and said, “Piece of cake, mom. You swim like a fish.”
“Sharks eat fish!” I hissed back.
Then I saw one of my competing “riders” approach. It was Michelle Rodriguez from the Fast and Furious movies. Her hands were wrapped in fighter’s tape, and she was snarling as she looked me up and down. Which got me mad.
She chose the great white. I chose a tiger shark. When we began, the sharks moved around the pole like a carousel, bumping against each other, taking bites out of other sharks and riders, until only Michelle and I remained in the competition. I was bleeding from being bumped by sandpaper hides, but luckily no bites so far. I rode behind Michelle, she glanced over her shoulder, and guided her shark with her knees to ram into my side. I woke up before I found out who won, but I think she probably did. She was meaner. I was just trying to stay seated on my fish.
So, what’s that dream mean? Well, sharks represent your fear of death. Put that together with pool…? My inner world of fantasies is worrying about death? Hmm. And why is my dd in all my dreams?
Any strange dreams you want to share? Anything you think I can do with my underground fight club-shark rider fantasy—outside of Aquaman fanfic? 🙂