The following is a dream I received in an email from a man last week. His dream is written "as is" with paragraphs added to separate some of his longer paragraphs. My comments about the dream appear in italics.
This is a report of a dream I had on Monday 12/12/11 before 21:30 in the evening. I had an early night because I was incredibly tired during the day and I guess the content of the dream woke me up. Essentially, what happened was that I was a young, perhaps 35 or 30 year old woman who was a police officer, and I remember this being a very late part of the dream (there were earlier parts before it) although I can’t easily remember or visualise the earlier parts, although I believe they had something to do with investigating various crimes, but I can’t remember them. Some people might say that some of the areas of our brains that are inaccessible to us are memories from past lives, and some of those people say that though we may be of one sex in this life, we may have been members of the other sex in previous lives. Another explanation might be that you were accessing the feminine parts of yourself in this dream (we all have masculine and feminine energies).
Now in this part, for some reason, I was in the basement of a hotel, which was actually a computer service room and I was asleep on a chair and in front of me was some kind of server, which was sat on my lap, and inside the server were various (what I assume to be) electronic components, although in the dream they were represented by – this is really strange – this is old, really really old IBM typewriter that used this cylindrical ball with these letters on and it rotated the ball into place and stamped it to make an impression on the page – anyway, it was a load of those. Basements often represent your base instincts and urges. Balls could represent sexual experiences, especially in this situation when they are sitting on your lap.
Anyway, this guy in a white coat comes over and at first it looks as though he is conducting some kind of maintenance on these electrical components. He starts screwing one of these typewriter heads really really tightly into position and for some reason it looks as though it’s some kind of sexual fetish he’s getting pleasure from and once he’s finished screwing this typewriter head really really tightly into place in the set of circuit boards, he drops the tool he was using (a pair of pliers or something like that) and then slumps forward onto the circuit board or whatever it was on my lap and falls asleep. Screwing has many connotation. And white coat could refer to a doctor. Maybe you feel as if you are getting badly screwed by someone or some organization and you feel that they are deriving pleasure from your pain. Or possibly you feel that your life has gotten to the point where men in white coats will be coming for you.
So I’m horrified by this and grab this tool as evidence and then run out of this computer server lab, which is still in the basement of the hotel, walk through a really long corridor, which reminds me of the French catacombs – not because there’re are skulls on the walls but because it’s brick corridors, semicircular brick corridors and very dimly lit. I run along them and reach a door that takes me outside and it’s nighttime at the time and see a security guard there and scream really really loudly to him asking him whether anyone from Plusnet, which happens to be our internet service provider at home, whether technical support is available, to which he answers no. Darkness indicates that you lack insight into your current situation. Even after you left the "catacombs," you are still in darkness.
I then stumble out into a square outside, which is very very lively. It’s nighttime at the time, people are partying very loudly, there’s a bar to my left. The first person who comes up to me is a representative of the hotel – I’m obviously a guest there. I’m still this 35 year old woman by the way, and I’m trying to maintain my composure although I’m frantic and horrified by what I’ve just seen by this computer service technician, and this hotel representative brings this American guest over, who’s really concerned because somebody has used her sugar cube and the hotel is embarrassed because they’re not sure what’s happened to the sugar cube so, knowing I’d play along, they say that I’m the one who took the sugar cube and I saw ‘yep, yep that was me, I took the sugar cube, I will give it back to you, etc.’ I would pay attention to what sugar cubes mean to you – does somebody you know use them frequently? At one time (and possibly still) people used sugar cubes to introduce hallucinogenics. I wonder why you were so willing to accept blame for taking the sugar cube.
And this is where things start to get really really horrifying. For instance, I look at the American woman, who for some reason is quite large, and I reach out and poke her stomach and, as I do so, she turns into plasticine – well not even plasticine – like more like rotting flesh – putrefied flesh and my hand sinks right into it and as my hand does so, the putrefaction transfers into my arm, which then immediately becomes bloated and I basically freak out. It’s obvious from everyone around that I’m just delusional and that when I look down at my arm it’s like it and when I look up, everyone’s face is just absolutely horrified and when I look down again it’s absolutely normal and so is the American woman and people were freaking out because I’m freaking out. It appears here that you are losing your ability to perceive things correctly, almost like you had swallowed a sugar cube laced with acid.
I then see various other examples of this and one of the last ones - I can’t really remember them – but one of the last ones was reaching down into the glove because I thought it was filled with Cheerios and then it turned out to be filled with maggots and insects that are writing around my hand, and I throw the glove onto the floor, and it turns out that it was just, for some reason, a glove filled with Cheerios and then everyone else is absolutely horrified by the fact that I’m having this mental delusion.
Then I see one look and see that there’s a sofa in the corner and I decide that I need to lie down, so I lie down and then I see me – well I am me – rather than this woman again and I see her and I’m looking down over her (who I was a moment before) and then I woke up. Your perceptions in this dream appear to be distorted. I would look at your awake life and ask what you are perhaps distorting or perceiving incorrectly.
It’s now 21:47 and I’m going to try to get back to sleep. (That must have been a relief.)
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In the preceding dream, a lot of "things" appear that the dreamer may want to understand. Using Gayle Delaney's process of understanding dreams, I would suggest he separate the things from this story and ask him to explain what each thing means to him. I would also ask him if he has an emotional connection to any of them.
Interpreting dreams is a process. When we record our dreams, after several days or weeks, we may notice a connection between our dreams and those connections will help us understand the common threads that run through our dreams. By understanding our dreams, we understand ourselves.
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