Last night I had a dream that I absolutely kicked the shit out of one of my high school classmates. A petite wiseguy with a tiny-penis complex, let's just say that in real life I didn't care for the guy.
It all started out with some half-joking sparring, which then escalated into wrestling with intermittent punching. Next, I have him in a chokehold and I start to squeeze. I hope, mildly, that I don't actually end up killing him. But I am at least hoping that he passes out so I can be on my way. Eventually he faints. I arrange his body next to a brick wall at the end of a dead-end street. And since I'm so considerate, I place his head delicately on some abandoned newspaper. I walk away with a spring in my step.
Then I start to sweat it. Surely he will awaken and tell people what happened?
Next, I'm in the hospital visiting him. Before arriving however, I construct a perfect defense. We've always liked to joke around, right (erm, not really, but whatevs)? Things just got out of hand. Besides, he's given me bruises too (actually he hadn't. But to protect myself, I searched my body for bruises I could blame on him and found one that I have in real life that I didn't get from fighting a high school nemesis). Besides, I could tell things were getting bad, so for his and my own protection I used my positional advantage to put him gently (ahem) under so no one else would get hurt.
So, I'm at the hospital. He looks terrible. Like he's just survived a hanging. He has big angry bruises all over his body and especially around his neck. On closer inspection his neck looks like one big rope burn. My forearms did that? I'm thinking: geez, Jen! Suddenly one of our 6th grade teachers shows up along with one of my grade-school girlfriends who once gave this guy the time of day (something I'm sure she'll feel embarrassed about evermore). I feed both of them my bullet-proof defense. They seem to be buying it.
Then I wake up.
So what do you think? Catharsis? Wishful thinking? Revenge of the Nerds? Bildungsroman? Feminist rage?
Analysis, please.
It all started out with some half-joking sparring, which then escalated into wrestling with intermittent punching. Next, I have him in a chokehold and I start to squeeze. I hope, mildly, that I don't actually end up killing him. But I am at least hoping that he passes out so I can be on my way. Eventually he faints. I arrange his body next to a brick wall at the end of a dead-end street. And since I'm so considerate, I place his head delicately on some abandoned newspaper. I walk away with a spring in my step.
Then I start to sweat it. Surely he will awaken and tell people what happened?
Next, I'm in the hospital visiting him. Before arriving however, I construct a perfect defense. We've always liked to joke around, right (erm, not really, but whatevs)? Things just got out of hand. Besides, he's given me bruises too (actually he hadn't. But to protect myself, I searched my body for bruises I could blame on him and found one that I have in real life that I didn't get from fighting a high school nemesis). Besides, I could tell things were getting bad, so for his and my own protection I used my positional advantage to put him gently (ahem) under so no one else would get hurt.
So, I'm at the hospital. He looks terrible. Like he's just survived a hanging. He has big angry bruises all over his body and especially around his neck. On closer inspection his neck looks like one big rope burn. My forearms did that? I'm thinking: geez, Jen! Suddenly one of our 6th grade teachers shows up along with one of my grade-school girlfriends who once gave this guy the time of day (something I'm sure she'll feel embarrassed about evermore). I feed both of them my bullet-proof defense. They seem to be buying it.
Then I wake up.
So what do you think? Catharsis? Wishful thinking? Revenge of the Nerds? Bildungsroman? Feminist rage?
Analysis, please.
4 comments:
HAHA! I love it. Not sure what it means, maybe all of the above that you have listed. Something you've always wanted to do, being fulfilled in your dreams? I actually find some dream interpretations interesting. I have some crazy weird dreams (usually stress related) and super annoying re-occurring dreams.
Maybe you're self-conscience about how others feel about your actions/decisions, and feel that you have to self-justify in order to gain the approval of others?
Ok, yeah right. I'm done.
This is HYSTERICAL!!! I am dying to know 1. Who the nemesis is and 2. Which teachers showed up. This is making me giggle re reading it. I think it is a healthy expression of your life's frustrations taken out on something that can be visualized.... Someone super annoying from your youth. Totally rational and probably healthy :)
Like Kjell said, feminist rage fo' sho'.
But seriously, I used to have really violent dreams ALL THE TIME. I'm far too delicate to hurt anyone myself :), but someone I loved (like myself or my family) was getting killed or maimed nightly. My first therapist did some dream interpretation/therapy with me. Her theory was that all that violence was about anger/frustration that was going unexpressed to the people that it mattered the most to communicate with. I wasn't solving problems, I was ignoring or avoiding them. So I got to work on communication and BAM, it worked like a charm. Now I have violent dreams only occasionally, and when I do, I ask myself if there is someone I should be communicating something too that I'm avoiding. I saw one of your FB commenters mention the mind-body connection to fatigue, etc. -- I sure wish this communication thing would have solved all my health problems! I'll keep working at it...
Perhaps you were thinking of that lame-o Doctor that you saw, just before bed. Seriously that is what makes me mad. (I just read your last post as well). If I ever become wealthy I'm going to start a scholarship program for premed students who display exemplary acts of compassion, a quality which seems to be rapidly disappearing in the healthcare profession.
For a while I was having nightly dreams in which Brian was constantly doing uncharacteristically stupid stuff, and his idiocy would make me irate. I would wake up really mad at him and have to remind myself that he hadn't done anything wrong in reality. I realized the dreams were and aftereffect of the stress I was feeling trying to keep the peace between him and Edward. They are getting along better now/ no more dreams. It's interesting how our subconsciousness deals with stress.
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