I sometimes find myself disturbed by how, um, boring and banal my dreams tend to be. Under the circumstances, I was glad to learn that it's actually common to dream about your job as I've certainly had my fair share of dreams about blogging.
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Annals of Dull Dreams
14 Jan 2008 08:25 pm
Comments (24)
Ever dream you're back waiting tables, and you're running around, and you've got ten people yelling at you, and you've got a really heavy, full tray to carry and OH MY GOD YOU DROP IT!, and then you wake up?
I haven't waited tabled in over a decade, and I still have that dream sometimes.
Did you use the nicotine patch when you quit smoking? That thing gave me amazingly intense, vivid dreams. It's like the poor man's hallucinogen -- just slap it on & go to sleep.
It's strange, but whenever my bladder is really full I tend to have dreams about urinating in strange places. Is that normal?
Mine are usually textbook, formulaic dreams -- I'm naked in a crowd, or late and unprepared for a calculus finals -- but this week, for the first time, I've dreamt about . . . the presidential candidates! In one dream I was hanging out with Barack and Michelle, shooting the shit, and in another I was grilling Rudy about his many, many flaws as a politician and a person.
I need a week at a spa.
Is it just me, or does anyone else experience bizarre jolts after reading several of Matt's posts with increasing unease, and then suddenly realizing that you've been reading Sullivan's blog -- or vice versa -- and then having to go back and re-read everything again in the proper "voice"?
Is it just me, or does anyone else experience bizarre jolts after reading several of Matt's posts with increasing unease, and then suddenly realizing that you've been reading Sullivan's blog -- or vice versa -- and then having to go back and re-read everything again in the proper "voice"?
I think I just dreamed that the Wizards beat the Celtics on both ends of a home-and-home, but then I realized that I was awake.
None of you have ever dreamed of God, or of life after death?
Do you think Hillary Clinton dreams of being a bitch from hell?
Is it just me, or does anyone else experience bizarre jolts after reading several of Matt's posts with increasing unease, and then suddenly realizing that you've been reading Sullivan's blog -- or vice versa -- and then having to go back and re-read everything again in the proper "voice"?
It's so weird you wrote that--that's exactly what I dreamed last night. Woke up in a cold sweat.
Not too long ago, I dreamt of the war crimes tribunal of Darth Vader.
None of you have ever dreamed of God, or of life after death?
No, but I've died in my dreams. In one I was caught in a nuclear explosion. I was standing in the driveway with my father, when there was this bright flash. I shut my eyes, but I could still see it. And then the wind began to really roar, and this wave of heat hit. I inhaled and could feel my lungs burn up. Over the roar of the hot wind I could hear these popping sounds -- which I realized were the blood vessels in my head popping.
And then I woke up. And I didn't get back to sleep for quite a while...
If the boring and banal dreams you've been having are in the same vein of dreams that most other people are having, then your dreams are indeed boring and banal, no?
I remember having dreams of getting into fistfights when I was a kid. I was always surprised when someone hit me, how little it actually hurt. It's the only time I ever succeeded in kicking anyone's ass.
I recently dreamed I was sitting in an indoor amphitheater that occupied a strange location at the very top of a 100 story building. The rows of seats were arranged at a very steep angle, and in front of the first row there was only a two-foot high concrete wall, beyond which it was a strait drop down to the tiled lobby 100 stories below. I was very uncomfortable and wanted to get out, but I was also embarrassed because no one else appeared the least bit nervous.
I go from dreams about getting shot or cannibalism to the truly banal. Once, I dreamt I was out of deodorant...
I sleep poorly, but when I do sleep, I sleep deeply, so I rarely remember actual dreams. I do remember various scenarios from the "hypnogogic" period of sleep when I'm tossing and turning but not actually asleep.
Most of those deal with my various favorite babes - frequently in combination, e.g., Natalie Portman, Emma Watson, and Winona Ryder. Maybe throw in JoJo - or all three Corrs sisters. Or my "Asian Tong Team" - Kelly Hu, Maggie Q, and Lucy Liu.
I got more where those come from.
Matt worries that his dreams of blogging are banal.
I dream about reading blogs.
I dreamed last night that Hitler hired me to write a book proving that Jonah Golberg was a communist.. I hadn't realized he wass Hitler until after he had hired me, and I couldn't afford to give back his advance . . .
No, I'm not kidding.
I once dreamed I went sledding with Lucille Ball. We used those little round plastic disc-style sleds.
But the best dreams are dreams of flying.
I'm a light sleeper, so I tend to remember my dreams. I also have very bizarre dreams. Perhaps Matt sleeps well and deeply and so doesn't remember the stranger dreams.
I had a lot of 'I'm being chased’ dreams growing up. In one of the most bizarre dreams I've ever had, I was being chased across a bridge that spanned the Missouri river when suddenly the bridge platform morphed into a rope ladder across the river. I fell through the hole but managed to grasp a rope rung. Looking down, I saw an enormous pastel-pink, old-fashioned transistor radio that was as wide as the river and floating gently downstream. The radio started playing the theme music from the old Mutual of Omaha insurance commercials ("Mutual of Omaha is people, you can count on when the going's rough...") and then I woke up…
I'm really just baffled at how much attention this story is getting. It's news that people dream about work? You spend at least half your waking life there, Sherlock, why the fuck wouldn't you dream about it?
Comments closed January 28, 2008.
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Heads in the Sand
I dreamt about being the docking boy on a WWII zeppelin troopship. The manager of the docking facility was bald, mustachioed, shirtless, went to Harvard to learn physical therapy, and had venereal disease.
Posted by good dreams | January 14, 2008 8:55 PM