Subconscious Shadows

I woke up with a headache today. Actually, a headache, an entirely full bladder, an unsure stomach, a stuffed nose, and an achy body—the headache has lasted longest. But, what has lingered and will now become part of my subconscious memory, are the feelings from the dream I had last night.

I married a man I'd never met. In my dream-understanding, I knew I had known of him, heard of him, but I hadn't had the chance to come to know or love him. I have no idea why we were married, we just were. It arranged itself. It happened.

He wasn't bad looking, and he seemed nice, but I didn't love him. At one point during our special day, I turned to him and said, "I'm not going to have sex with you tonight, just so you know." How could I? I had no feeling for him whatsoever. His face was hard to read (again, I didn't know him; I couldn't read him), but I could tell that wasn't something he wanted to hear. If anything, I would say his countenance fell. That wasn't a great start to building trust in our new arrangement, I guess.

But, sex alone doesn't build trust (though it will scream to claim to). Time, experience, sacrifice, love: these build trust. And then, after these have been built, then sex builds and compounds trust, and love. I guess I don't know this from personal experience, but that's the way life, trust, and love were designed to work.

Still, it was our wedding day, so we had a hotel room reserved and we went there. It was a really nasty place, actually. That's curious for my brain to invent. First it invents me a complete stranger husband, then it takes me to a dirty motel room where there aren't even sheets on the bed. . . . If I could write my own dreams, trust me, they'd be more luxurious. However, my subconscious is largely out of reach of any such useful pen or pencil.

Here's what lingers most about my dream: the feeling. I kind of felt bad for my new husband. Even though I didn't know him, trust him, feel I'd truly given myself to him, or that I wanted to, I still went through the motions and had sex with him. (Yes, I have sex dreams sometimes. Secret's out . . . but, once again, I don't write my own dreams, so I am not responsible.)

I'll spare you the details, but it was completely awkward. We didn't know how to communicate, cooperate, or connect. I wanted to be cute and show him my personality, but then I remembered he didn't know what that was, and I was nervous to let it show in case he didn't like it. I wanted to joke, laugh, have fun to break that "first time together" tension, but it was just all nerves and uncertainty and "I'm along for the ride, just keep doin whatever you think is right" awkward. I wanted to flirt, and have the proper desires one should have for her husband, but I was empty. We didn't share love, we just shared our bodies.

What a terrible feeling. But, was I really feeling? It was a dream, after all.

As I contemplated this dream and the lingering shadow feelings of emptiness and sad resignation to an uncertain life with an unchosen husband, I penned this phrase in my conscious mind:

Experiences in dreams cast a shadow of empathy into the waking reality


In the physical world, we see because light reflects into our eyes; in dreams, our eyes are closed. What then are we seeing in dreams? There is a light in the subconscious within each of us. For some it shines more brightly than others; we remember what we dream, and then the feelings and images linger, they incorporate into the memory, threatening to become believable as part of our past if we don't categorize them as originating from the subconscious. I personally remember some dreams better than I remember parts of my own life. It can get tricky at times, because our reality supplies our dreams.

As one who dreams and remembers dreams often, I believe that, for the great majority of dream material, the subconscious draws on the conscious occurrences from life. We dream of real and familiar people, places, things, feelings, obsessions, and fears. The waking components of our life curl up with us as we fall asleep, like young pets. And, restless as they are, shortly after we slip to the dream world, these conscious thoughts skitter about, making a mess of the trash bin (things we'd hoped had long-since been deleted), tearing up homework and shoes and other treasured things (ever dreamt that you showed up to a test without studying? or gone someplace and realized you weren't fully dressed? or lost someone you love, or something you cherish? I have, every one of those situations, multiple times), and occasionally those scurrying thoughts, though in some circumstances intimidating, will cower to intruders and let in the terror (nightmares).

If our feelings are the result of physical interaction with all sensory and existential components of the waking world, and our brains fire off habitual or reactionary pulses of emotion, feeling, desire—well, then in the subconscious world, why would feelings be any different? It's still the brain reacting to perceptions of the components of life, or of the world, of whatever composes your thoughts. And so, as that subconscious light shines, our subconscious self lives. It feels.

I do not know what it's actually like to be forced into an arranged marriage. Dreaming does not complete the experience; it is only an image even if the feelings appear real. We wake up and don't have to live real-life consequences. But, I want to claim that dreams do, in reality, cast a shadow of added empathy to what we often can't live or feel in the waking reality.

Some things we do in dreams are impossible to do in the waking world in quite the same way as we can dream for ourselves to do. Our minds let us fly, die, breath under water, operate machinery or gadgets not known to this world, change appearance or gender even, act in ways we suppose we never would in real life (like killing another, or voluntarily having sex with a complete stranger, for example).

But, if the subconscious memory of these perceived feelings lingers in the waking reality, and our physical bodies still feel the emptiness or the fright, even when we know it wasn't real, can we claim to have felt what someone else has felt who does experience such a thing in real life? Of course not to the same extent, but can we still sense the fear we felt in our subconscious memory? Sense the pain or pleasure, emptiness or joy, dread or excitement?

If so, what a wonderful thing, dreaming. I have vivid and often too-realistic-for-my-liking dreams and I always wake with a new "memory" to ponder. Perhaps the memory is more a shadow than a thing itself, but there is no shadow behind what hasn't first faced the light. Therefore, if dreams exist (and probably no one would say they don't), and if the subconscious exists (which it does, though we scarcely comprehend its entirety, I'm sure), then there's a reason for this existence. And if not to help us maintain vitality in our imagination and empathy and soul, then why?

My soul (the body of my being clothed by the body of my flesh) has a very empathetic and compassionate nature. It loves to exercise this nature. I observe people and I can't help but think what does he think, feel? Who loves her and cares for her feelings and desires? What has life taught her? Who will be the next person to enter his life and change its course forever? I'm always wondering and pondering; I consider motives, I ache when I see their aching, I yearn to comfort and assist the heavy hearts. Some things I will never understand. Unless, perhaps, I live those things a moment under the light of dreams.

Though our sleeping eyes see as through frosted glass, clouding and separating us from the cold reality of actual experience, if we get close enough to the feeling and let the images press against the pane, the dream leaves an imprint through which we can see through the window of empathy into the soul of another—another whose eyes were forced to witness the real-life version.

There is a light that shines behind our eyes while we sleep. We sense the subconscious shadows of that light when we wake. If we let them, those shadow feelings will heighten our empathy and compassion as we live. Dream on.

Brownies?

I had the luck of getting an orange tootsie pop. As I walked next to my unidentified traveling partner, I untwisted the wrapper and offered it to her. She barely held it in her hand before she tossed it to the ground before I snatched it back again.

"It has TWO indians," I showed it to her. She was unimpressed. We parted ways.

I passed a disgruntled housekeeping woman on my way up to my third floor apartment and she shoved some towels into my arm not holding a tootsie pop and I said, "okay, fine, I'll deliver these to my neighbor," because apparently she'd just missed them...

I get up there, hand over the towels and get into my own apartment. I change clothing and then...suddenly I'm watching The Flinstones. Fred and Wilma are shopping for new furniture. Fred holds open the door for Wilma but instead of her passing through, a whole blur of people the same height and shape as Fred push past the open door and the "audience" chuckles. Then Fred and Wilma enter together. Fred goes off looking for manly things and Wilma sits down. An echoey voice speaks her thoughts as she sits in a chair I know is the one they will have later in their home. She thinks, "What can I get that will keep my enemy out of my house." As she says it she slowly turns in the chair to face the other way and THERE IS HER ENEMY sitting right there. The leather of the seat ripples with anticipation and a cat fight begins in the furniture store. It's a rumble tumble mess and a whirlwind tussle. When it's over, I step in and realize that my sucker was caught up in the whole mess. I pull of torn fabrics and batting and go wash my sucker clean. I enjoy the first lick after the proper cleaning.

Yeah.

Then, I'm at another wedding, this time for some girl named Britney. She's from my home ward, I guess because again I see a bunch of people from my ward. And at the piano up front is a lady named Barbara Lepinski who for whatever reason is no longer my friend. She also says the opening prayer, telling the person that WAS going to say it that she'd actually been asked to say it, though it wasn't true...and she introduces the prayer as "what's in her heart for the special occasion." So she says a prayer and I hear something about joyous occasion and seeking forgiveness... Then the reception begins and my mom is showing people how to make rolls...it's like a RS enrichment meeting and reception in one...weird. I wasn't dressed for the occasion, I don't even know why I was there. I was huddled on some back seats in a blanket with a young Anna Smith. So incredibly random...

Honey Bunches of Oats With Almonds

My sudden marriage was a prearranged one, to a guy that I'd apparently only seen before (though his face is not one attached to anyone in my memory) and knew was already married. That saddened me, that I was going to marry a man that I didn't know, that wasn't super attractive and that was already married. I had a ridiculous hat (think chef hat mixed with Dr Seuss' cat in the hat) that was all white, and he had on a Dr Seuss tie (come to think of it, I think it was the Grinch on his tie...the groom was nice though..) and the wedding was only going to be a small out-of-temple ceremony, Dr Seuss themed. So bizarre. He was busier than I was helping people gather and checking on last minute arrangements and stuff, so at a moment when I got his attention, I got him away from everybody.

"So, we haven't really had a chance to ever speak," I started, and put my hands on his ribs, like under his shoulder blades.

"Oh yeah," and that was all he said before he kissed me, something we'd also never done before. It was a very strange kiss. It was almost like even though he was kissing me our lips weren't touching. I tried to like it but decided I would probably learn to...for some reason I was okay with this whole situation. Except one thing.

"Well, I thought you were already married..." I revealed my concern.

"Oh, no, actually. That's not my wife. I'd be crazy not to take you as my wife." He pulled me close and I could feel a large, round, soft belly in the way of getting any closer.

I shrugged inside. Yes, kind of like a "huh" in my lungs or like a lip-smirk in my heart. I guess this is it then.

The show went on. I saw old family friends gathered, talking, congratulating me, bringing gifts. Then my hat just would not go on right and my hair looked awful, like I hadn't showered in a week and it was impossible to do anything with it. I don't even recall if I was wearing a dress, only I know I wasn't naked like some dreams will arrange. I remember really looking at him, trying to know his face. He was kinda cute, but plain. His light brown hair was thin and curly, clutching tightly to his head. He also had a beard crawling around his chin, four or five shades darker than his hair. His eyes were small and light-colored, like honey. His nose was fine, normal, with a point. I didn't feel excited, but I didn't feel it was wrong. But there, looking at him, ignoring the rest of whatever was happening, the dream ended.

So I'm still single.

I also dreamed that Spongebob and Patrick were stranded after a boating picnic they went on turned out badly. This one is mostly washed away (get it, like ocean waves..hyuck) so I don't remember the details. Oh well. I'm sure I can just go watch some SBSP episode and pretty much have it summed up.

A few nights ago and consecutively I dreamed of Ty, but now it doesn't bother me, no matter what happens in it. I'm glad for that. It's because I called him and he told me I didn't do anything to offend him and so my brain is done worrying and applying meaning to things. Callooh callay! It's good to get exes out where they belong.

But, a Dr Seuss themed wedding?? I think perhaps I'll eat another bowl of HBoO with Almonds (with soy milk) tonight before I go to bed to see what else I come up with.

Imagine a groom dressed like this...


sweet dreams to you!

Walking through a forest in Alaska a ranger type person and I were puzzled to find multiple plastic jugs, milk jugs, water jugs, and other plastic materials dotting the forest floor. I had seen a bird overhead earlier and suspected it was a strange bird collecting plastic containers in its talons and then dropping them near its home. The ranger didn't believe me, even when I pointed out the small holes which could have been talon punctures. Then there were other people in the forest and the dream changed to their story....

A man was in love with a river maiden. She was a ghost that lived or was trapped in the river. He would visit her and fall more in love with her but he could never stay to be with here and could never touch her. His friends didn't know what was going on, but they were worried for him. The young man was quite popular in town and had been betrothed, in a way, to a prominent man's daughter. He cared for the girl, but just wasn't falling for her as he felt he should. He had a best friend that truly loved the prominent man's daughter, but this friend was true and faithful and didn't get in the way of anything. (Oddly enough, no words were spoken in this dream. It was all in looks and gestures, body language. Like those Pixar short films.)
The river maiden told the man in love with her (she loved him, too) that he should go on with his life, that he needed to live and be happy in his mortal life. Sadly, the man recognized this too and went through the preparations for a wedding with the other girl. He tried to be happy and he was never disagreeable...only his entire heart was elsewhere. It saddened him that his heart be there since it could never be granted the happiness of its desires. The day of the wedding came. His bride was as beautiful as a leaf veiled in frost, seeming as frail and sad and cold, too, since she sensed that her groom did not want to be there. She walked to him. He stood next to his best man. When she was by his side, he looked at her, he looked at his best friend and he gave her hands to him. His friend excitedly swooped in and hugged the bride in his arms; she turned from frost to rays of sunshine.
The man, dressed in fine tuxedo, ran toward the forest. There was a tall bridge reaching over the deep river below. Music beat from his racing heart. He cast himself into the current, saying something to himself, expending all the air in his lungs, and he surrendered to the liquid.
A beautiful woman faced an underwater wall of earth, staring as if watching her imagination play sadly across the mud screen. The scene zooms in on her until she turns suddenly as though hearing a voice she thought she'd never hear again. He reached out his clear water hand to her and she glittered like gold reflecting sun under water...

It's a bird....

The man in whose arms I was draped last night? Superman. Great looking, nice muscular build, taller than me, you know, super. perfect. Well, we start at an official building because he was called there on emergency while I was with him. Someone had impersonated him and gotten into this huge safe and stolen a small orb which had held the prototype to a very small chip designed to help with flight. He takes the fake orb in his beautiful hands and opens it. The fake looks convincing, just doesn't do anything. He's bummed but finds comfort in my kisses. :) He takes me to my house. (Oh, by the way, I'm like 17 in this dream. That kinda bothers me, but oh well.) At my house he's lying on the floor and I'm sitting on my bed. we want to be outside, but it's just so cold. I look at him and say, "Do you know of a place, lots of grass, about seventy-one degrees, sunny and nice?" He says, "Let's go to Arizona." I smile. He grabs be under my arms which I link around my neck and somehow we disappear through the roof and into the sky. For some incredibly lame reason my mind doesn't follow me to that escapade but instead stays with my family, watching them do routine stuff at home. Lame. They start getting worried about me though and so I guess that's why the mind stayed behind from the adventure, to tell the lucky unseen me to come back in time to soothe worries before they got too high. Superman came back with me and everyone was relieved. That's about it. Not fair, for the most part, so many loose ends! Oh well. Superman was my boyfriend!

Blast

I had a very strange work dream. It's weird because I've had similar dreams to this, but only today was there a slight real-world connection. Blast.

Already running late for work, I had to hurry to the high school. Those kids just HATE it when I'm late. So somehow a motorcycle seems the fastest way to get there, so I am suddenly driving one of those to the school...except I can't sit on the seat, I'm sitting in a shopping cart as I hold the handles of the motorcycle...to say the least it was very difficult to keep it together. Maybe that's telling of my life right there... Anyway, I pull up to the school and realize I won't be able to get any kids home, obviously, and I go into the office to make a confused call back to the bus compound to tell my boss I need to come back for a bus. The lady at the secretary desk was a complete waste of twenty minutes. I just wanted to use the phone she had at her desk that would actually transfer over to the transportation office with four short punches to the phone pad, but nooooo, she couldn't use that. It would have been fortunate because the four digit number was posted near by and for the subconscious life of me I could not remember the last four numbers of the office number. SO, we had to use every other non-useful way imaginable. Ultimately she handed me a brand new cell phone, not even unwrapped, and said, "Here, just have this." I was so ticked that I just tossed it back at her and rushed out. I could have walked to the bus compound in far less time than it took to try to make that phone call. I passed all my waiting kids as I got back to my motorcycle-shopping cart duo-mobile (it had an unattached couch cushion for a more comfortable seat...) and the kids were like, "No way, where's the bus!" I completely ignored them -- I often do...is that bad? I'm not there to make any friends... -- and rode away ridiculously, around the block to the compound. My boss had called in a sub driver and this young guy in a beanie was in the driver's seat, ready to pull away. I said, "I'm here though! I was at the school, trying to call you but I just could NOT get a hold of you..." My boss must have sensed an insincerity I more or less felt about the ordeal, and she said something like, "They would have been empty words." Referring to whatever I would have said on the phone had I managed to call, and continued, "I called in a sub." I looked at the sub, frustrated and then suddenly softened. "Do you just wanna take this route until Wednesday? Just take it." He said, "sure." Great. I was leaving anyway. He drove away and I left, bugged.

You know how in the winter it's really dark at 6:50 AM? Well, as I pulled out of my parking slot this morning, I checked my mirrors on my right because there was still a bus there and I didn't want to hit it. I examined closely, even squinting to be sure (it was so dark!) and I thought 'I'm clear' and pulled forward confidently and it took a minute to realize the screeching metal sound was actually my bus smearing bus 19's mirrors down the side of my bus. Nothing occurred in my mind at the moment as to how to solve it otherwise, so I just kept pulling forward until I was clear. I reported to the mechanics (passing and informing bus 19's driver on the way...) and they set out to solve the problem. I was super frustrated at the mistake for a couple teary moments but I had to get it together and keep driving....Accidents are lame. Blast...

But one cool thing was that it was SUPER foggy this morning. I love fog.

vive la France

I dreamed I made it back to France. It was a very quick trip somehow and as I walked an unknown street to some unknown place there was this guy that gave me a knowing smile. I kinda smiled back but kept walking (French men...) to the place. In a minute that guy was back, at my side, walking my same way and suddenly I realized he'd stolen my second watch. I had one on my wrist but my second one was in his hand. So he was back now to tease me about the time it read. It was set to Utah time so that I could remember the time there. So I said to him, "Well, so where do you guess I'm from?" He thought a moment, as we walked into a government building, and said, "Payson, Utah." I stopped and said, "Wow, tres proche." which means "wow, very close." but then we were distracted by it being my turn to hand some official papers to an official lady behind an official desk. She looked at them and said, it all looks good. But this guy next to me he said, "Wait, what about this?" He pointed to a paper that had a large $178 at the bottom and she said, "Ah oui, je dois refaire ça." which meant "Oh yes i have to redo/renew this." I suddenly realized that I had gone on a trip to France with absolutely no money to my name. But, the lady didn't know and wouldn't care even if she had known, she swiped the card I regretfully gave her to pay this $178 legal fee so that I could stay in France.

When I left that place I headed back to my apartment. That was strange. I entered a building, with the watch thief still in tow, and when I got into my apartment, it was pretty much exactly like my current one, with less furniture though. My room was exactly as it is, with most of the stuff moved out of it. It was then I realized I had forgotten my passport. The companion of my thus far expensive travels had turned from unknown man to well-known friend, Aurore Mathieu. I suppose I had returned to France with her (she's here in the Provo mission right now) and she was assuring me that I'd be okay without it. Huh. I had that sinking feeling that too many things were going wrong, and how would I be paying for anything for my three week stay? Bad planning, Em.

I sat down to log into facebook on my computer and change my status from "discovering Skype" (which was what I had changed it to before I fell asleep last night because my friend Carrie was teaching me stuff about it) to "est en France. et oui!" And I sat and wondered what i would do for three weeks. The end.

Now I want to go to France. Really badly. Except with some money. Bread and cheeeeeeeeeeeeese.