Sunday, April 25, 2010

The Way It Might Have Been

And did we have a good time? You betcha. It would be terrific to remember the details. Here’s what I know.

Sometimes I feel like the old Victorian beach mansion we lived in for a summer. While I am sleeping, my body stays awake figuring out how it’s going to fall apart in the morning. It’s clear that I have been asleep, because I have been dreaming the same dream every night for the past two weeks. This dream is particularly weird and at times frightening, so I will gladly share it with people who are either weird or like to be frightened. We can only assume that if you’re still reading the blob you must be, at least, a little weird.

The dream begins in Boonton NJ, at the house in which my mother lived for 56 years. We sold the house two years ago when Mom moved to Washington State. Anyway, before we signed final papers and closed on the sale, we went into the basement and taped our four pictures in a place where no one would ever find them. (Editor’s note: I have no idea WHERE she put them.) In this way, we could remain part of the spirit of what was, for ever and ever. And that’s how the dream begins…

We (both Jeff’s family and mine and mom and dad) are at the house. It’s some kind of holiday –maybe Christmas or Thanksgiving, which we traditionally spent at the house. The house is no longer ours. We are there, unbeknown to the new owners, or anyone else we may have known. In other words, we are living in our old house, the new owners are somewhere else (we have no idea where) except I was worried that they would come and find out that, like a bad dream, we had come back, to spend who knows how long, as uninvited guests. I knew we were uninvited because I was afraid they would come home and have us arrested. Jeff kept telling me not to worry, that they couldn’t have us arrested because we still belonged there. In my heart I knew it was a lie – but still we didn’t leave. Oh, and dad walking and perfectly fine –which had not been true for 45 years.

In addition to my concern about trespassing, Jordan was about nine and she was dating someone who was at least fifteen. And no matter what I did or said, she refused to listen to me. She got all dressed up (with make-up and high heals) and chose to ignore my every plea. Devin was also small and she jumped around yelling something about how she was going to get in trouble, so Seth said he would follow her on her dates to make sure she was safe. The fifteen year old, who didn’t seem to be anyone we knew, came to the house to pick Jordan up, but he had to sneak in the front door (the one we never used), so none of the neighbors would see that we were there. I have no idea how we managed to hide, but it was, after all a dream.

If I knew someone who interpreted dreams, I would ask them to help me figure out the meaning of these repetitive fantasies because the not knowing is a bit disturbing – but I don’t, so all insights (as long as they are not sexual) are welcome and appreciated.

In the meantime, (while I’m waiting for analysis) and in order to pretend that I’m not lazy and without imagination, I’ll give it a guess. Here goes: Way down deep inside, I think we shouldn’t have sold the house because in our souls we are totally New Jersey. And now we have no where to be when we visit. Of course, we don’t have anyone to visit, except mom, but she no longer lived there --that’s beside the point. It could be that I ate some bad mandel bread and it has stayed with me for the last two weeks. Or it might be my turmoil about where to live. Nonsense. What does any of that have to do with the fact that Jordan was dating at nine and more importantly, she didn’t listen to me?

Oh my, oh my, it’s too bad I don’t have a better imagination because think of all the fabulous characters with whom I might have slept over the last two weeks. Never mind, I already did that when I was young. We’re just sayin’…. Iris

2 comments:

m_harding said...

Dear Iris,

Wow what a coincidence.

I have just finished reading the definitive works on dream analysis in the English language!

The book is called, The Definitive Works On Dream Analysis In The English Language! - I bought the English edition.

It is 3264 pages of in-depth case studies from a guy named Sigmund Schlomo Freud. Wikipedia says he is really really really smart with dream stuff. Unfortunately for me, the English edition that I bought was written in German, so I was constantly referring back to my German to English translation pamphlet. I received the pamphlet as a gift when I subscribed to the HISTORY Channel, during World War II month, but the only thing I had learned to say in German was “Welcome to Paris”. If you do buy Freud’s book I suggest getting the English translation of the original German to English, German edition. And NOT the much cheaper German version of the original German to English translation of the English to original German edition , that I bought.

Anyway, Freud, in the chapter titled - “DAS JERSEY BROADTS” - shed some Austrian psychoanalytical neurological symptomatic sunshine, on what seems to be , your problem.

And after an exhaustive study of every page, it seems to suggest, that due to environmental and professional stress factors you have come down with a case of , “Cuckoo“. I am not sure what the English translation is. And due to space restrictions I am unable to upload the visual references that Freund had provided.

(Note: The image of Woody Wood Pecker is a blatant infringement of copyright, and Mr. Freud, as a published author, should have been more sensitive to such an issue.)

Unfortunately the only advice that Freud gives is found in the very last sentence of the chapter. There he advises that people plagued with such frightening and confusing dreams , “….might want to stay awake more.”

I have to say that I expected more from a bearded bald guy with glasses and a watch fob. Had I known, I would have bought the condensed version of the book - Schlomo At Bedtime.

So the bad news is that our little cigar sucking Austrian nocturnal narrator was a big disappointment.

But wait…

The good news is that my Great Great Grandmother, Umamama , read your blog!!

Great Great Grand Nan was a medicinewoman back in the old country, and she says there is a sure-fire remedy for what her society calls…“Bad Dreams“. This is the first time that it has been passed on to what her society calls … “Other people”. Traditionally it has been to passed down from shaman to shaman for hundreds of years.

And the bizarre thing is, that it's so simple, you’ll wonder why you never thought of it yourself.

Here is what my Great Great Grand Mothers says to do:

Under a red crescent moon during harvest time, dance naked around the village fire pit backwards, while swinging a burlap sack filled with drunk black roosters around your head. Every third time around the pit stand on your left leg and scream "Pumpkins!" at the top of your lungs.

I know that it sounds a little dangerous - dancing around a giant open fire nude - but don’t worry, G.G. Nan assures me the real physical harm usually comes with trying to keep the poultry inebriated for the two day ritual - apparently they have beaks. And, of course, another obvious danger are the wild mountain dogs that come down to see why you are screaming about pumpkins, but that’s a given, and that is why you have your hair in pigtails wrapped in garlic cloves and carry the spear made out of Sherpa bones.

Well, there you have it! Great Great Grand Nan says to repeat as necessary. But no more than eight times during a Wicca astral cycle. Or , if a new Pope is getting elected.

She swears by this. I hope it helps.

...Here's wishing you sweet Dreams,Iris. Sweet Dreams.

Cheers,
m_harding

Iris&David said...

michael, what can I say. Brilliant just brilliant advice, which of course i will take. thanks for all you research...