Dream Journal
As many of you know, I’ve been suffering some pretty serious self-esteem issues lately. The trigger for this, of course, was my failed collaboration with Ikea, who rejected my idea for marketing an easily transported and assembled line of Sniper Towers. (A very bad decision on their part that they will one day regret!!) This was compounded by a disappointing season for my fantasy baseball team—A Fury of Pigeons—and some elbow tendonitis, which has prevented me from participating in Ping-Pong, my great love.
However, with the help of Dr. von Hammerstein, I’ve been discovering that there are many, deep-rooted reasons for my self-esteem issues, and as part of the process, my doctor has asked that I keep a dream journal.
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Michael Murray’s Dream Journal—September 20—September 30, 2010
I have a recurring dream that Rachelle keeps stealing the covers. In this dream series, I sometimes see her taking money from my wallet on the desk.
In this dream I am working as a waiter back at Fettucini’s restaurant in Ottawa and my section just keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. The people are coming in waves and there’s nothing I can do to keep up!
I am a flying saucer and inside of me are man-aliens performing anal probes on one another. I fly them to a distant planet called Mikonia.
(this is the sketch of the flying saucer that I provided for Dr. von Hammerstein)
I am playing Ping-Pong against a rooster. It’s a very competitive match, but I win, and when I do, a person that I hadn’t noticed before—some sort of judge—appears, grabs the rooster and chops off it’s head. It runs about the Ping-Pong table, headless and flapping it’s wings. I wake up screaming and crying, which Rachelle says happens about twice a week now.
I am in a Sniper Tower in the parking lot of Ikea and I am shooting people and I have a feeling of great peace and tranquility. Everything smells of freshly baked bread.
I am playing Scrabble and then I suddenly notice that the tiles are bloody and are actually my teeth, which keep falling out of my mouth. The only words spelled out on the Scrabble board are expletitives. I wake up screaming and crying.
Instead of walking, I decide to fly about the city. It’s a power I always have in my dream world, but rarely use. After a bit, though, I lose control of the ability to control my flight and get tangled in hydro wires. A murder of crows come to attack me, and I’m defenseless and scared, but then a bunch of pigeons come to fight off the crows, and then the pigeons, like angels, lift me up and fly me to safety.
I am a mighty steed galloping along a beach. I come across a centaur. The man half of the centaur looks exactly like Hugh Jackman. He asks me if I want to go swimming with him. I whinny a yes and we run off together into the waves.
