Yay! I have finally broken down and purchased a laptop stand. My carpal tunnel strained wrists are very grateful at this development and I finally seem to be hitting the right keys when I type. I don’t actually have carpal tunnel but over the past few years my hands have had a few more aches and pains than they have had in the past. Part of me thinks that this is just a part of growing old and soon I will be complaining about my arthritis and yelling at kids to get off my lawn. Another part of me wonders just what all my years sitting at a computer will result in years down the line. I’m not sure which answer I prefer.
On another note, I have been just having these absolutely bizarre dreams recently. It is rather strange. I went a few weeks where I wasn’t remembering my dreams and that is never a good sign. I’ve read about how important it is to be aware of your dreams and when you don’t it means that your mind is working on something big. Well, I seem to have broken through that logjam and have been having these big, vivid dreams every night and one of them I want to discuss.
(Yes, I know that reading other people’s descriptions of their dreams is the equivalent of looking at someone else’s baby pictures. It might technically be interesting but the other person is much more invested in the moment than you are. Look at it this way, in this case I won’t have an issue if you decide to post a comment saying that the baby is of below average attractiveness.)
Not surprisingly, one of the dreams took place in a bar. Given my lifestyle that would be a pretty typical environment for me to find myself. What really interests me is that I constantly dream about this bar and yet I have never been there in reality. Meaning I don’t dream of bars that I actually spent a huge portion of my life in. I don’t dream about the Backer or Harry’s. I dream about this unnamed bar where I am seemingly a regular and on great terms with the staff.
I could draw up a floor plan for this place. They have this little outdoor bar out back, really not much bigger than the bar setup that my grandparents’ had in their basement (it was a fun environment to grow up in). When I hang out there in my dreams I find myself talking to the staff. When I go inside I am in this multi-level establishment that usually has a small but dedicated crowd. Occasionally there are bean bag chairs to give it a seventies vibe. Every time I dream of it I know that it is the same place but I know that it isn’t real. I’ve just been visiting it for the past year or so.
Does anyone else have this? Are there places that you dream about that do not exist outside of your own imagination that you constantly visit? I find it fascinating that my subconscious will create this place to work things out and return to it months after I first dreamed of it. I used to have a similar dream as a kid but recently I have had more of a dream world that I find myself in. Things aren’t as random as they used to be. There seems to be an actual setting. I have no idea what this might mean, it could just be my rational mind trying to find meaning where there is none, but I’d really like to know if it is common or not.
Best of 120 Minutes: Heard Elvis Costello on Prairie Home Companion this weekend so I thought that it would be good to go with some old school Elvis. If your king is dead, try ours.
The five random CDs for the week:
1) Cowboy Mouth “Mercyland”
2) Steve Earle “Essential Steve Earle”
3) Alejamdro Escovedo “Real Animal”
4) Allison Moorer “The Hardest Part”
5) Moby “Play”
Showing posts with label Dream interpretations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dream interpretations. Show all posts
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Monday, October 13, 2008
Questions in the dark
“Why don’t I ever see you dancing?”
I was asked that in a dream last night and it has been bouncing around my head all day.
Now I know that I have talked about my dreams before and I can never tell if people want to hear about them or not. Dreams are always much more interesting to the person who lived them than to someone who is forced to listen to something that is by its nature nonsensical. However, for the past few weeks I have been having these vivid dreams with similar elements and I just have to talk about the one I had last night. Very seldom do you wake up from a dream and wonder if you are now in reality.
I won’t go into the first half of the dream, which involved a horrible dinner in Vegas, my using a street luge as a means of transportation (very poorly as I crashed into a building) and my getting a lift to my old grade school in some guy’s car. That was all interesting and rather vivid but instead of ending up at the school I ended up at the British Museum. Specifically, the British Museum in 1998 as all of the scaffolding was up for the construction of the Great Hall. Exactly how we drove from the Chicago suburbs to London and back in time in one fell swoop is beyond me.
Obviously, by this point I realized it was a dream and kept on telling myself to wake up. Things were very vivid at this point. I could feel the wooden handrails as I walked up the stairs and the rain pelting me as I kept on trying to break myself from the dream. It was still as real as any workday morning. I then found myself lying on a bench, trying to protect myself from the rain when I noticed someone was doing the exact same thing right next to me. And while we can question my subconscious here I was certain that this is the person who is in charge of Everything. After a bit of small talk he asked me, “Why don’t I ever see you dancing?”
It wasn’t a critique of my life. It wasn’t a charge that I was wasting my days on a fool’s errand. It was one of genuine interest and almost a suggestion. Why is it that I can’t bring myself to dance?
Of course I don’t mean this in the physical sense though even in that sense I don’t dance. I blame my lack of coordination and my self-conscious streak for that nugget of my personality. But I think that is part of the point. I can never relax and just dance. Screw whoever is watching me if they think I look like an idiot. If I’m enjoying myself why should I care what someone else thinks?
But I don’t work that way. I live life with a look of grim determination. I’m so used to being a fighter and having to struggle for all of my accomplishments that I can never let it all go. My shoulders are always tensed, always on guard for the next challenge. I can’t say that this has been a bad way to go through life. Almost all of my success is due to the fact that I will simply outwork and outhustle people. It just leads to a life where you can never relax. Even when I went out to the bar on Saturday night I hunkered down on my stool, eyes scanning the room, my hand always inches from my beer on the off chance that someone might try to reach for it.
I don’t dance in my life. I’m 35 years old and the times where I just went out and celebrated the fact that I am alive, that despite the fact that the world around me is horribly flawed it is still the most amazing thing that one can ever imagine being part of, are few and far between. I’ve always been serious. I’ve always been focused on accomplishing the task in front of me. Now I have people in my dreams asking me if that really is all there is. And I have to say, I’m pretty sure that they are right.
I was asked that in a dream last night and it has been bouncing around my head all day.
Now I know that I have talked about my dreams before and I can never tell if people want to hear about them or not. Dreams are always much more interesting to the person who lived them than to someone who is forced to listen to something that is by its nature nonsensical. However, for the past few weeks I have been having these vivid dreams with similar elements and I just have to talk about the one I had last night. Very seldom do you wake up from a dream and wonder if you are now in reality.
I won’t go into the first half of the dream, which involved a horrible dinner in Vegas, my using a street luge as a means of transportation (very poorly as I crashed into a building) and my getting a lift to my old grade school in some guy’s car. That was all interesting and rather vivid but instead of ending up at the school I ended up at the British Museum. Specifically, the British Museum in 1998 as all of the scaffolding was up for the construction of the Great Hall. Exactly how we drove from the Chicago suburbs to London and back in time in one fell swoop is beyond me.
Obviously, by this point I realized it was a dream and kept on telling myself to wake up. Things were very vivid at this point. I could feel the wooden handrails as I walked up the stairs and the rain pelting me as I kept on trying to break myself from the dream. It was still as real as any workday morning. I then found myself lying on a bench, trying to protect myself from the rain when I noticed someone was doing the exact same thing right next to me. And while we can question my subconscious here I was certain that this is the person who is in charge of Everything. After a bit of small talk he asked me, “Why don’t I ever see you dancing?”
It wasn’t a critique of my life. It wasn’t a charge that I was wasting my days on a fool’s errand. It was one of genuine interest and almost a suggestion. Why is it that I can’t bring myself to dance?
Of course I don’t mean this in the physical sense though even in that sense I don’t dance. I blame my lack of coordination and my self-conscious streak for that nugget of my personality. But I think that is part of the point. I can never relax and just dance. Screw whoever is watching me if they think I look like an idiot. If I’m enjoying myself why should I care what someone else thinks?
But I don’t work that way. I live life with a look of grim determination. I’m so used to being a fighter and having to struggle for all of my accomplishments that I can never let it all go. My shoulders are always tensed, always on guard for the next challenge. I can’t say that this has been a bad way to go through life. Almost all of my success is due to the fact that I will simply outwork and outhustle people. It just leads to a life where you can never relax. Even when I went out to the bar on Saturday night I hunkered down on my stool, eyes scanning the room, my hand always inches from my beer on the off chance that someone might try to reach for it.
I don’t dance in my life. I’m 35 years old and the times where I just went out and celebrated the fact that I am alive, that despite the fact that the world around me is horribly flawed it is still the most amazing thing that one can ever imagine being part of, are few and far between. I’ve always been serious. I’ve always been focused on accomplishing the task in front of me. Now I have people in my dreams asking me if that really is all there is. And I have to say, I’m pretty sure that they are right.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
What makes a candidate (part two)
It is amazing what thoughts come to you at three in the morning. I awoke from a very strange dream and posed the following hypothetical question to myself. Let’s say that someone invented a machine that would record your dreams so that you could watch them over again on the internet. No more struggling over just what you saw; every instance would be recorded in a convenient digital format. However, not only would your dreams be recorded but they would be stored in what could only be described as DreamTube. The entire world could also see exactly what you saw as you slept. If this was the case would you sign up for the machine?
I think for the most part the answer would be no. Now it is true that I would give pretty much anything to reexamine my dreams (partly due to the fact that I get inspired by them and partly for the insight into my subconscious) but I don’t think I would want to open that up to outsiders. This is coming from someone who posts almost every detail about his life to a website every night. Plus, would you want to share every dream you have in which you are naked in a classroom? Would anyone have the courage to say “Here is what my dreams are like world. What do you think?” It’s an interesting thought experiment to say the least.
Anyway, I want to spend a little more time delving into the nature of political candidates. (Yes, I read the comment on last night’s post. It says something about America that I can no longer tell if that was an entirely sincere comment or if it was written in a post-ironic sense.) What I want to discuss are some of the things that a presidential candidate can not be.
The first rule is that they cannot be fat. Yes, Bill Clinton was overweight but I’m talking fat in the William Howard Taft sense of the term. The “could possibly get stuck in his own bathtub” criteria is one that voters could not overlook. It is strange given the obesity levels in the country but could you imagine a 300 pound presidential nominee. Just wouldn’t happen. Try to name a politician who meets that criteria and you would have to struggle. Given that politics is now a visual medium you have to present an image that works in that medium.
Another interesting area is the candidate’s religion. Now as opposed to even the recent past I don’t believe the actual religion of the candidate himself plays a great role. There was minimal issues about John Kerry being catholic (with most of it surrounding his pro-choice stance) and a little more about Joe Lieberman being Jewish but neither of those were major factors. Really, the only religious stance that I feel would be unelectable would be avowed atheists. It is interesting that in a country founded on religious freedom that this would be a major hangup. I just do not see the American population getting behind such a candidate, even though they would have no problem supporting a candidate who only pays lip service to religion. It isn’t a question of morals or ethics as those are not tied to religion. It is just that since so much of the country’s nature is tied to references to god that to actively not believe would prove to be a major hurdle.
I’ll end with a few of the other basic rules of presidential campaigns. It is always a benefit to be tall as historically the taller candidate wins the election. Height just plays better in terms of gaining respect and it shows when you watch the debates. Pay attention to things like posture and camera angles and how Obama’s height advantage creates a positive image of him for no reason other than the fact that he is tall. Also, have a short and recognizable name. Recent elections have gone to the candidate with the simpler last name. No one is sure why but it is actually true. Finally, always release your bad news on a Friday afternoon. No one watches the news on Friday night so you can get away with things.
I think for the most part the answer would be no. Now it is true that I would give pretty much anything to reexamine my dreams (partly due to the fact that I get inspired by them and partly for the insight into my subconscious) but I don’t think I would want to open that up to outsiders. This is coming from someone who posts almost every detail about his life to a website every night. Plus, would you want to share every dream you have in which you are naked in a classroom? Would anyone have the courage to say “Here is what my dreams are like world. What do you think?” It’s an interesting thought experiment to say the least.
Anyway, I want to spend a little more time delving into the nature of political candidates. (Yes, I read the comment on last night’s post. It says something about America that I can no longer tell if that was an entirely sincere comment or if it was written in a post-ironic sense.) What I want to discuss are some of the things that a presidential candidate can not be.
The first rule is that they cannot be fat. Yes, Bill Clinton was overweight but I’m talking fat in the William Howard Taft sense of the term. The “could possibly get stuck in his own bathtub” criteria is one that voters could not overlook. It is strange given the obesity levels in the country but could you imagine a 300 pound presidential nominee. Just wouldn’t happen. Try to name a politician who meets that criteria and you would have to struggle. Given that politics is now a visual medium you have to present an image that works in that medium.
Another interesting area is the candidate’s religion. Now as opposed to even the recent past I don’t believe the actual religion of the candidate himself plays a great role. There was minimal issues about John Kerry being catholic (with most of it surrounding his pro-choice stance) and a little more about Joe Lieberman being Jewish but neither of those were major factors. Really, the only religious stance that I feel would be unelectable would be avowed atheists. It is interesting that in a country founded on religious freedom that this would be a major hangup. I just do not see the American population getting behind such a candidate, even though they would have no problem supporting a candidate who only pays lip service to religion. It isn’t a question of morals or ethics as those are not tied to religion. It is just that since so much of the country’s nature is tied to references to god that to actively not believe would prove to be a major hurdle.
I’ll end with a few of the other basic rules of presidential campaigns. It is always a benefit to be tall as historically the taller candidate wins the election. Height just plays better in terms of gaining respect and it shows when you watch the debates. Pay attention to things like posture and camera angles and how Obama’s height advantage creates a positive image of him for no reason other than the fact that he is tall. Also, have a short and recognizable name. Recent elections have gone to the candidate with the simpler last name. No one is sure why but it is actually true. Finally, always release your bad news on a Friday afternoon. No one watches the news on Friday night so you can get away with things.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Thoughts from the corners of my mind
My subconscious taught me a rather interesting lesson last night. As I have mentioned before I have been having these incredibly vivid dreams for the past two weeks at least. Just strange, out of this world dreams where I am transported to places I have already been but only in my dreams. Last night was another case where as part of some strange religious retreat I was in this run down monastery type building. Except most retreats I’ve been involved with do not involve secret passages and one person being attacked by a wolf. Though to be honest that would at least make those things a little more interesting.
What made me wake up and go “Whoa” was a conversation that took place in the dream. I had gone off by myself, separate from the main group who were all having fun (wolf maulings aside). When we all got back together I went into my usual self-loathing rant about how I’m always alone and how people don’t warm up to me and how I always have to make my own way through the world. As this rant was going on someone, and I’m not sure who in my life this represents, yelled at me “Chris you are only happy when you are competing and someone is keeping score. Life isn’t like that.”
That is a pretty specific statement that some portion of my brain unleashed on me early this morning. First off, setting aside the dream was pretty indicative of the way I live. Even in big groups I tend to go off by myself. I just don’t gain friends very easily and if you put me with a group of strangers I tend to float off to the edges. And while I don’t know where that sentence came from I think it is true that competition is what drives me.
In certain instances that has been a very beneficial thing. Obviously it made school much easier than it might otherwise have been. While I still say it wasn’t my goal to be the best student in a class it was certainly my goal to do my best and I celebrated when that resulted in my besting all the other efforts. You can go places in a work environment when challenging yourself to do better than the person in the next cube is one of the things that you do to keep your sanity. But from a social standpoint that is not entirely a good thing.
Maybe it means something that most of the friends that I have made the past few years have come from playing trivia, a place where keeping score is part of the whole experience. I think that is one of the biggest problems in my life. I always try to put metrics or terms like best on situations where they really don’t apply. It’s like whenever someone breaks up with me. My reaction is less to cry and wonder what might have been but more of a post game film breakdown. I run through the scenarios and go “Hmmm, I bet if I bought dinner I would have won.” And I use that term of winning. I’ve joked that all relationships can be explained using football metaphors but sometimes I think I take it too far. Sometimes things just happen.
I don’t know if it is my competitive nature that keeps me aloof and always separate from the crowd. Maybe I just like giving myself the challenge of taking on the world alone. Maybe I’m just scared of showing the world who I really am on the chance that who I am really isn’t much of anything. I hope there is a happy medium out there for me to reach. Your dreams tell you what you are really wondering and last night made me wonder about who I truly am. Maybe I’m not as perfect as I think.
Wednesday Night Music Club: Sometimes I wonder if I was born decades too late. Mainly when I listen to acts like The Be Good Tanyas. I love this music. Sure it is old timey but it is beautiful all the same.
What made me wake up and go “Whoa” was a conversation that took place in the dream. I had gone off by myself, separate from the main group who were all having fun (wolf maulings aside). When we all got back together I went into my usual self-loathing rant about how I’m always alone and how people don’t warm up to me and how I always have to make my own way through the world. As this rant was going on someone, and I’m not sure who in my life this represents, yelled at me “Chris you are only happy when you are competing and someone is keeping score. Life isn’t like that.”
That is a pretty specific statement that some portion of my brain unleashed on me early this morning. First off, setting aside the dream was pretty indicative of the way I live. Even in big groups I tend to go off by myself. I just don’t gain friends very easily and if you put me with a group of strangers I tend to float off to the edges. And while I don’t know where that sentence came from I think it is true that competition is what drives me.
In certain instances that has been a very beneficial thing. Obviously it made school much easier than it might otherwise have been. While I still say it wasn’t my goal to be the best student in a class it was certainly my goal to do my best and I celebrated when that resulted in my besting all the other efforts. You can go places in a work environment when challenging yourself to do better than the person in the next cube is one of the things that you do to keep your sanity. But from a social standpoint that is not entirely a good thing.
Maybe it means something that most of the friends that I have made the past few years have come from playing trivia, a place where keeping score is part of the whole experience. I think that is one of the biggest problems in my life. I always try to put metrics or terms like best on situations where they really don’t apply. It’s like whenever someone breaks up with me. My reaction is less to cry and wonder what might have been but more of a post game film breakdown. I run through the scenarios and go “Hmmm, I bet if I bought dinner I would have won.” And I use that term of winning. I’ve joked that all relationships can be explained using football metaphors but sometimes I think I take it too far. Sometimes things just happen.
I don’t know if it is my competitive nature that keeps me aloof and always separate from the crowd. Maybe I just like giving myself the challenge of taking on the world alone. Maybe I’m just scared of showing the world who I really am on the chance that who I am really isn’t much of anything. I hope there is a happy medium out there for me to reach. Your dreams tell you what you are really wondering and last night made me wonder about who I truly am. Maybe I’m not as perfect as I think.
Wednesday Night Music Club: Sometimes I wonder if I was born decades too late. Mainly when I listen to acts like The Be Good Tanyas. I love this music. Sure it is old timey but it is beautiful all the same.
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