I am one of those people who likes to talk about dreams. Although I don’t tend to weight them too heavily in making life decisions, I like thinking about what they mean — I like the idea that dream interpretation could have significance, that our inner lives might actually be reflected there with some relevance to our conscious lives.
Recently, I’ve been unpacking and sorting through the stuff/clothes/junk I’ve accumulated over the six years since I graduated from high school. A couple of nights ago, I had a dream among the tins of old broken jewelry and perfume samples, I found a stash of green onions and broccoli, which was obviously of some concern given that these things have been packed away for a good amount of time. My interpretation? It’s time to use the green onions in the refrigerator that I bought for making peanut sauce about a week ago. It’s time. And I might be craving and increased broccoli intake.
Then last night, I stayed out late with old friends and when I got home, I almost fell asleep before falling into bed, which is definitely dangerous. Sleeping standing up is uncommonly difficult and I’m pretty sure the dangers are similar to those of having seizures or fainting suddenly.
This morning I woke up dreaming that I had been employed to design jungles — yes, like the Amazonian things in the arena of the equator where it is hot and sweaty. My job was to create jungle space everywhere. (An overwhelming task given my complete lack of jungle-building knowledge and also, in my dream, the apparent resistance of most communities to the artificial creation of jungles in their neighborhoods.) I think this might be a sign that I’m concerned about global warming. In addition, it might be related to some job search anxiety and my sense that I am underqualified for a variety of the jobs to which I’m currently applying.
Either way, I’m enjoying the dreams. Keep ’em coming, subconscious. And I will draw a picture of a jungle for the twins.