I am utterly fascinated by dreams. In high school I was so intrigued by them, I did an entire research project devoted to the historical record of prophetic dreams (the account of Lincoln’s own dreams predicting his assassination are downright chilling). I’m even more fascinated by my own dreams. There are dreams that I had as a kid that still haunt me to this day. Exhibit A: I couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 when I had a dream that I discovered a 3-foot spider in my doorway. Now this wasn’t just any kind of spider. Not only was it large in size, but it was more of an animated spider than it was realistic. Endowed with huge cartoon eyes, it danced around my apartment and taunted me by shouting “Booga Booga Booga!” You laugh, but as a kid it scared the bejeezus out of me. As a result, to this day, not only do I suffer from arachnophobia, but even animated spiders frighten me. Remember that scene from the movie Jumanji where the obviously animatronic spiders attack the main characters (of course you don’t, no one but me saw that terrible movie). ANYWAYS, even that scene made me squirm. And I will not even describe to you I suffered through that terrifying scene in the last Lord of the Rings movie. SUFFERED! And it would have been nice if someone warned me that there is a large robotic spider featured in Michael Jackson’s This Is It concert DVD. I mean, who would’ve seen that one coming.
I say all that to illustrate the point that my dreams have always lingered with me long after I have them. I’ve recently started reading Carl Jung’s Man and His Symbols–a little light reading recommended by my newest Improv teacher as suggested material for class, no joke. The first section explores dream interpretation and how our dreams relate to our subconscious. Or something like that. It’s got me thinking about a recurring dream I’ve had since I can remember. The details change but the premise is always the same. While at an amusement park, I encounter ridiculous obstacles that keep me from getting to the roller coasters. Sometimes it’s as simple as my friends don’t want to go or treacherous weather. Sometimes the obstacle is more elaborate such as the track falling apart spiraling the current riders to plummet into a black-hole abyss. And it is always frustrating. My best guess is that my biggest aspirations in life have always been just out of reach. I get to the park, but can’t quite get on the ride. Or perhaps I allow circumstances to get in the way. I think I’ve only made it on the roller coaster once, and I think it might have been just before I moved to NYC. Although that could be a classic case of revisionist history where I desperately want this dream to mean something substantial. What would Carl Jung say? Or Freud? Or those Dream Interpretation for Dummies books I see at Barnes and Noble?
I’m sure Jung could have had a field day with my recurring dreams of me interacting with celebrities (usually of the geriatric variety): Morgan Freeman working at Taco Bell, my mom murdering Jack Nicholson (and subsequent cover-up attempt of hiding the pieces of his corpse in our dumpster) or my first date with Clint Eastwood. ::sigh:: Clint Eastwood ::sigh::
But last night’s celebrity cameo was weird. I discovered Tiger Woods was my half-brother, so we went out for drinks to get to know each other better. After not discussing his whorish tendencies, he headed outside. I followed him, hugged him intently and stared deep into his eyes while I declared to him, “I don’t care how many women you’ve slept with. I still love you because you are my brother. ” He didn’t say anything, but he looked touched. And then I woke up. What do YOU think that means?