Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Tales of my Subconscious

Two nights ago, I dreamt that I was in my memoir class in the Meiser building. The whole class was standing in a circle, and I vaguely remember preforming some sort of ritualistic dance. The bishop of my home ward made a cameo as the president of the university, and then Jethro Tull (pictured below, for the musically unaware. It was just the lead singer and floutist, Ian Anderson) joined the circle and was standing next to me. He was very nice.
April 2nd, around 7:20 PM I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt that my friend Brandon, who is in my Tolstoy class, gave me a ticket to a BYU football game. I planned to meet him there. I drove to the game, got our of my car, and was walking across the parking lot, but I noticed that it was really the back parking lot of my home church building, I see Lauren leaning against a car. She is standing with a group of people that I don't recognize, and I start walking towards her. Suddenly, I drop to my hands and knees, child's pose, and I am puking. It's the chunky kind of vomit that hasn't been digesting for very long, and I can barely breathe through the stream of vomit and bile. I am throwing up into a white handkerchief that I am holding in one hand, but as soon as the vomit touched the white fabric it vanished. I wake up at 8, right when the play I am supposed to be attending is starting, and there is more drool on my pillow than I have ever see in my life. 
Mid-January, I braved the cold to go on a ward temple trip at 6:30 in the morning. I had stayed up late the night before, and decided to take a nap when I got home. That day I dreamt that I went back to the temple for my endowment. I entered the doors of the temple and saw the inside of a mosque. I've never been to a mosque but it was everything I imagined a mosque to be. I removed my shoes and walked across the smooth and cool woven mats to look at the hundreds of people falling to their faces in prayer, and the elaborately carved  arches that hung overhead. I am dressed in white as I walk slowly down into the font. The font is wider and deeper than the one I've been in for baptisms. There is a live ox floundering in the dark blue water with me. I am afraid he is going to bite my toes.
I also keep returning to a vintage shop in my dreams that I have never seen in real life. The last time I dreamed about it I was being chase through a tunnel beneath the store by a gunman, dressed in black. 

1 comment:

Alyssa said...

give me a day, and I will analyze that first one.
The others, mystery.
Except we should go shopping.