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Elements of 3 Dreams: 4.3.2015

April 4, 2015

{4 consecutive days of dreams featuring characters from Lithuanian literature (which I’ve been reading a lot of), but then I’d wake up, and not remember anything specific. Nothing Lithuanian-related on Friday though.}

#1.

Spouse and I are in the bedroom that we stay in at his father’s house. I’m writing something on my laptop, which is resting on the top bunk that I sleep in; Spouse is elsewhere, doing something else. I suddenly realize the bedroom is flooded, and the waters are rising. I see many of the books I brought with me underwater, including my red-covered dictionary. I save the document I’m in, and hurriedly try to get the laptop turned off safely (without electrocuting myself).

I’m looking out the window at the desert-like backyard (mostly bare dirt, but also small cacti) when Spouse and I discuss when we’ll leave. He wants it to be tomorrow; I suggest we should stay at least one more day.

Later, I go back into our bedroom. The waters have receded: it’s just a little squishy on the floor. But I don’t recognize any of the stuff in the room as mine or ours. So I go back into the hall, and find a different bedroom, but I don’t recognize anything as mine there either. {It’s not that the stuff I see is covered in mud and debris, or moved around; it’s altogether absent.}

+++

#2.

I’m attending a Catholic Mass that’s being held in a room that’s mostly a really-long corridor. There are many other people about, including women in my family {none of whom I can recall right now}. I’m waffling about whether I should take Communion or not, as the previously-very-long-line is winding down. Just as I decide that I will do it, the priest turns around and walks back toward the altar. A young JM, next to me, remonstrates with me for not acting sooner.

I don’t tell him that it was taking me so long to decide because… technically… I haven’t been Catholic since 1986, so I’m not actually entitled to receive Communion.

+++

#3.

I meet a red-haired woman who looks vaguely familiar to me. I’m surprised, though, when she tells me I look vaguely familiar to her. She looks at my name tag, and I can see that she doesn’t recognize any of my names.

I consider asking her for her name: if I can determine in which context I knew her before, I can decide how much to disclose about having changed my names. But then I realize that the whole topic will kill the conversation, so I don’t do ask. I just smile slightly, and agree that it’s odd (that we look familiar to each other).

+++

#1 NOTES.

There are no bunk beds in the bedroom where we stay in FIL’s house, which is in Kentucky, not a desert. I don’t like the Kentucky house, but I liked this dream-house okay.

I rarely dream of deserts, but when I do… they are in New Mexico. This desert seemed more like Arizona. Which would make it unfamiliar, because I’ve only been to Arizona once, when I was very small.

The red-covered dictionary element was interesting because that dictionary is tucked away in a corner of my studio closet where it’s hard to get to — I don’t think I’ve used it since before we moved. Oh, wait — that red-cover isn’t my current dictionary; it’s my “college” dictionary, that I had since I was an undergraduate.

In the dream, as I looked around at “all my books” underwater, I wondered why I’d brought so many with me. There was some sense that many of the books were from grad school.

Okay, so in the dream, I brought all sorts of books with me, and my laptop. But then the flood destroyed or disappeared all the books, and everything else I owned that I’d brought with me. Usually, I’d be totally panicked in a dream like that, but I wasn’t. Even my suggestion of staying further was to “help out FIL”, not to recover or replace my lost stuff.

If I were to “get rid of” the words I used in college [dictionary], what would that mean? Ideas from grad school [non-dictionary books] that also need to go away would be what?

= = =

I don’t recall ever seeing a small cactus in person (not on TV or in a book). The lone one I’d been looking at seemed… friendly. Maybe by staying longer I was hoping to get better acquainted with it?

Like Havi, these days I’m thinking about how to do less, winnow away more stuff/things/ideas/activities that are no longer useful, so I can focus on what actually matters to me.

First the flood, then the fact that we were in desert but I had zeroed in on one specific cactus, suggests that I’m doing something right. I think.

+++

 

#2 NOTES.

I’ve been thinking about celebrating Easter again, but not in a religious way. And probably not on the actual date of Roman Catholic (or Eastern Orthodox) Easter. Just some time in the spring I guess.

{Easter probably needs its own blog post.}

+++

 

#3 NOTES.

I had red hair as a young child. As an adult, I colored my brown hair back to red for many years. The woman I met in the dream would not have known we had had hair color in common at some point.

I assumed I had either gone to school with her, or worked with her, at some point, but now that I’m thinking about it, in the dream it seemed like there was a third possibility; I don’t know what it was.

I’ve been Fiadhiglas since 1992, so if she didn’t recognize that name either, how would I have looked similar enough that she thought she knew me?

Also, how did I know her? Was she… a different version of me? Her hair was curlier. The way she was dressed struck me as conventional, suburban. Was she my Road Not Taken?

= = =

Why did I have a name tag, but she didn’t? I think she had more social status than I. But I didn’t want to bother with telling her more about my past history than necessary; I didn’t want to get to know her.

= = =

Even when people have names that I think seem interesting, if I ask them about their names, I usually hear about who their parents named them after. There’s a very communal flavor to these stories. Other people don’t have a category in their minds for people who name themselves, because other people apparently don’t know anybody like that. And since I’m an outlander (not part of their community), if I tell them my story (or some portion of it), instead of celebrating with me my discovered identity, they often take it as if I’m deliberately being anti-communal. And therefore, it’s off-putting.

I haven’t found any method of disclosing that I changed my names that doesn’t adversely impact how most people perceive me. Perhaps analogous to disclosing an invisible disability.

Every once in a while, someone will be interested in my story, rather than repelled. But, they still won’t celebrate with me.

In Dream #2, somebody else’s Sacrament, for a “community of believers” I haven’t been (even nominally) part of since 1986, would in no way be celebrating.

+++

In Dream #1, I was forced to let go of things that represent previous (NT/book learning) stages of my life. Leaving me free to get better acquainted with a minimalist environment, in the here and now, where I can immerse myself, and do things.

Dream #2, letting go of outdated religious practices. Finding something that works for me.

Dream #3, letting go of… explaining my entire history when I don’t even want to get to know the other person. Letting go of thinking superficial resemblances between me and someone else mean I owe them something, while they (naturally) owe me nothing.

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