Dreamstate [100105]

In this series labeled under "Dreamstate," I'll be recording down the dreams worth blogging about. Whether they provide some deeper meaning in life or are just random and for funsies, I'm sure they'll make for a great read down the road.

So, from what I recall, the dream starts with a scene in a house. A bit similar to my grandmother's home before she passed, but largely unfamiliar. It reminded me a bit of Ken's house, typical Sunset-grid home, messy as well. I was wandering around and then suddenly, out of nowhere, I get hit with the knowledge that my parents are going through a divorce. I never see my mother in this dream, but I do run into my dad in the house. I remember having a short conversation with him, and then somehow being transported to a parking lot near Ocean Beach. The left side of my brain must have convinced my conscious that we drove there, because both my father and I were behind a station wagon. It was already dark out, and the hatch door to the car trunk was open. There was a bunch of random objects in the trunk that I couldn't make out, probably insignificant. What really got me in this scene was the raw emotion I felt; it was the trinity of anger, sadness, and sympathy. Anger for my father, because somehow I was instilled with the notion that he had a mistress (weird...), sadness for my mother, and sympathy for their relationship, because of how much I still adore them when they bicker and quarrel. My father was telling me that he would be handing down all the objects in the trunk to me as if I was never going to see him again. All the emotions rushed out at that moment: I cried, snot coming forth from my nostrils and whatnot; the bawling type of crying. I also remember that I was trying to hold the tears (and snot?) at bay, but failing to do so. To be honest, I don't remember the last time I cried, let alone being teary-eyed. After what seemed to be five minutes of constant crying and screaming, "WHY?!" I found myself in a lobby decked out with an almost pristine white granite floor, amber marble walls, and gold-gilded elevator doors. I could still feel the tears and snot pouring from my face. What the eff.

So here I was, walking down the lobby that immediately transformed into the top floor of the building itself (logic told me I got there by means of the elevator, how convenient. I wish I could move like that in reality). There were two high arching windows overlooking a metropolitan city (SF, perhaps) to my right. I spotted a very aged-looking office door with strips of the vanilla-colored paint peeling off: it looked old and tarnished. Mind you, at this point I was still incredibly emotional, probably still crying. I opened the door with a sense of urgency, and immediately felt relief gush forth, replacing all the negative emotions, kind of like how you would feel the moment you realize that the crowd loved your performance. And then, I saw a man with crazy clown-like hair and a ballooning figure with a stick-thin bespectacled man craning over him. The room was surprisingly large, so they didn't even notice me standing there, which was a good thing considering how bad of conditions my face was in. Now, why did I feel relieved? I don't know, but the men were talking about some sort of publication, news perhaps. Not long into the conversation, the balloon-like man threw a stack of papers into the air and exclaimed in joy about something or another as if giving a cue for the group of people to emerge from under a clutter of office desks that suddenly poofed into existence. Everyone was celebrating, joking around, being kids. I kinda just blended in with the room. No one took notice of me. I smiled, and woke up to the familiar white ceiling of my room.

I know the divorce part was probably dreamt up as a redux of John Lennon's childhood, probably a neuronal establishment of things learned throughout the day. The MUS15 lecture I attended just last night was actually very story-like, complete with visual imagery and sonic cues; it was still fresh in my mind when I went to sleep. Hmm, as for the other aspects of the dream, I have no idea. As a child, I once doubted my father's loyalty to my mother as he was always away on business trips. But, other than that one time, I don't believe that thought had ever reoccurred. I also haven't experienced anything extremely emotional in a long while, so this dream could have been my brain's excuse to release built-up tension.

Anyway, all I knew when I woke up, was that I needed to pee... And that I had had one of the more interesting and vivid dreams that I have had in a long while. Good work, amygdala!