Andrea and I like to do a lot of things together, but one of the best things we do together is talk, and lately we've been talking about our dreams. If we don't catch each other in the morning (I have been having this horrible habit of oversleeping lately), we usually fill each other in when I come home from work that night.

It usually starts with, Hey, you know what? I had a totally crazy dream last night that I wanted to tell you about this morning, only you didn't wake up.

Andrea's most recent dream involved a door. We were inside our room and someone was pounding at the door, and she said in her dream, she'd turned to me and said, "That must be (name) at the door. I'm glad it's locked."

"What does it mean?" she asked me, awake now.

I said, "Well, what do doors mean to you?" I always love this part -- it's all symbols and metaphors.

"All I know," I said, "is that doors do two things: keep you in and keep others out. Also -- its function is very voluntary, unlike, say, locks without keys. Or outright cages. Doors are things you can open and close."

"Interesting," she said.

Aren't dreams always.


The other day I posted on Letters to the Last Girl about this dream I had about this faceless girl and this interesting thing I had to say to her: I'm that girl you get to draw but don't get to sleep with.

Of course, when I got home, she was all like: Who's that girl? And I was like, I DON'T KNOW!

That happens to me a lot - faceless girls who feel familiar, but not quite. Strange.


I recall, at this point, two important dreams, early on: This one in February 2006, in which Andrea does a cameo way before we even met in person (heh), and another one much later, which I actually used to jump start a conversation over text with her.

"You're that friend who interprets dreams, right?" -- has got to be the lamest pick-up line ever, but it's strangely effective. (How else to start a conversation with a friend of a friend, right?)

That dream was simple enough -- it was our mother and me, and I was sitting while my mother cut my hair.

I don't remember how she'd interpreted it at that time -- perhaps something about cutting ties or shedding habits or whatever -- fact is, whatever it was, it must have been something horribly appropriate for that time of my life, because I remember feeling totally impressed.


This evening: "I've been having that dream again," she told me after dinner, "About that house that wasn't really our house?"

"That one with the special hidden room, right?" We'd talked about this more than twice, and it's always been so fascinating, how we both had these places we frequented in dreams that don't really exist anywhere else.

Mine is this beach resort -- I can see how this giant hut is in the middle of it all, like a bar-reception area of sorts, and these slab of stones in the sand that lead up to it like a pathway, and how the sand dips and then there's the sea. I think the last time I was there, I bumped into a shit load of Film people from college haha. (Yes, an ex-dream entirely. Far too long ago.)


Last night, I dreamed a younger officemate was seeking my advice -- her sorta boyfriend was always nagging her for her drinking habits.

I think, before waking up, I asked her if she wanted to talk about it over drinks.


No comments:

Post a Comment