That Dream Meant What?

Psychologists tell us that our dreams are sort of like detailed road maps into the inner working of our brains. Many people can remember their dreams, often in graphic detail, and there is an entire industry devoted to interpreting these dreams. A good psychologist can relate your dream of flying to a desire for independence, your dream of milking a cow to a desire to obtain your just dues from an unjust system, and your dream of having sex with Halle Berry to your desire to, well, have sex with Halle Berry.

I'm not sure that I buy into the whole "dream interpretation" game, based on the GIGO principle-Garbage In, Garbage Out. When I hear people recounting their dreams- "And then I went into the cave. I was wearing a silver Bob Mackie original with puce shoes, which seemed really strange because who would wear puce with silver, and I was wearing a ring with a sworl design that, if you looked at it the right way, resembled a young Elvis, or the Last Supper...."-I get really suspicious. I'm pretty sure that they're making it up as they go along.

I frankly don't trust anyone who says that they remember their dreams in that kind of incredible detail. I don't remember my dreams at all, except possibly in the generic way that leaves you thinking, "Wow, was that really Halle Berry? I didn't think she cared". Sometimes, though I get little reminders of my dreams, when I wake up. They aren't enough to trigger a real memory of the dream-just enough to let you know that you must have been dreaming, like when you wake up at the crack of dawn, and you're dressed as Spartacus. I mean, you don't remember the slave girls, but you know that there was some serious dreaming going on.

I got one of those little reminders this morning. I woke up with a song running through my head, and I just can't get rid of it. Unfortunately, it's Burl Ives singing "Have a holly, jolly Christmas", and it's only October, for God's sake. I wonder what the psychologists would say.

Sometimes, I think it's probably a good thing that I can't remember my dreams. With my luck, Burl Ives ended up getting lucky with Halle Berry, and all I got was the chance to fly over and milk a cow while wearing the Spartacus costume.