Last night my dream involved me sitting on a toilet sitting infront of a lady I’d been quite close with recently passing a large, but easy, poo. I wonder what the Dickens it could mean. There was no dialogue. I was simply sat on the toilet, she was standing watching me. She couldn’t see the actual expulsion, just my body.
Weird.
My dream last night didn’t seem too weird. No actions transcended natural laws and nor did anyone get hurt. My night time chimeric occurance this time held a moral value…I questioned my actions in getting a job as a hospital teacher (which a friend of mine does) working with children who have cancer.
Before I go into the dream itself it’s worth noting that I am a qualified teacher. However, I’ve decided not to teach and to do something else with my life. I never liked teaching (or rather the little shitty kids). And I still don’t know what that thing I’m going to do with the rest on my life is.
The workings of my unconscious mind had already surpassed the recruitment and training process of such a job. I was merely in the middle of a ward having a conversation with my friend who already works as a teacher in the hospital. We were simply discussing how I’m suited to this job. I didn’t think I was, for many reasons, suited to teaching in a hospital ward which follow:
That was the end of the conversation, and the dream itself. When I woke up I made myself jot down the dream. The scrallings today look as though I tried to write a story whilst I was pissed. I wasn’t, merely tired.
Analysis
I always try to find reasons to avoid teaching work, even if it is well paid. Even if I am doing good for a community or society as a whole. Simply because I don’t like teaching.
Remember I was arguing a moral point not to work there. Not to be the only thing a child has to break down their painful day. Bad me.
I once had a dream that I went into my back garden and saw this man with masso bug eyes tied to the washing pole. He was shaking and sweating. Obviously in a great deal of anxious discomfort. I stepped out onto the path and made my way to him so I could save him from this situation he was in…As I strolled down the pavement ninjas did what can only be described as ninja flips over the fences from both neighbouring gardens. I shit myself. Metaphorically. They were swailing their swords regimentally through the air.
It was at this point I forced myself to wake up. I sat up, heart racing, thankful for conscious reality.
Interpretation
I get attacked for helping people.
Possibly?
Last night I got absolutely malakered. I was on the devil’s juice from about 4pm and stopped at about 1am. I wasn’t in a good way to say the least. I couldn’t get home hence I had to kip at a friend’s house…where I was sick. Fantastic. Then I pretty much passed out.
To be honest I rarely dream when I’m drunk. Last night was different….
There was a gusty wind blowing across the Scottish Highlands. The gust was the type which whistled and echoed. Me and a group of friends were trekking across the hills. We were partisans fighting against the rule of a foreign invader. We battled the wind, shot guns nestled on our shoulders. Cold. Dark. Isolated. Seeking shelter but always having to be on the move. If anyone has seen the film The Wind That Shakes the Barley that’s what my dream was like, but in the Scottish Highlands.
In reality…
The howling wind was indeed echoing along the canal basin beside the apartment.
Me and the people I was drinking with were discussing if our country was taken over whether we’d fight back.
We were discussing my friend’s mother, who lives in Scotland.
It is weird how our subconscious creates these scenarios.
…I’ve decided to have a blog devoted entirely to my dreams. I usually have a dream every night and they are gradually getting weirder and weirder. If I have them written down I’ll have something to read through and analyse. I’ll actually be able to assert my psychotic problems.
Here we go…
