Carolyn
J. Rose
A
few weeks ago I visited a friend in New
Mexico and took her on several shopping expeditions.
Shopping for quilts and end tables and hassocks led to rearranging furniture.
Rearranging led to driving new nails and moving pictures. The results were
satisfying.
But
not so the dream that seems to have been born from the experience.
It
gestated in the depths of my unconscious for almost a month before emerging and
flashing across the dark screen of my mind. In the dream sequence, I moved
pictures again and again. After I hung them they changed, shrinking and
expanding, taking on new colors. Landscapes became portraits, portraits became
blocks of color. Pictures that seemed to be perfect for the spots we chose
transformed into art from another century, another country, another world.
And
then there was the furniture. It grew larger and bulkier and heavier. It
refused to fit through doorways and up the staircase.
And
those doorways and stairs changed as well. Rooms appeared and disappeared as I
headed toward them lugging a nightstand or carrying a lamp. I didn’t have a
rock to roll up a hill, but I felt like Sisyphus.
The
morning after the dream, exhausted, bleary-eyed, but fortified with strong
coffee, I powered up the computer and went in search of meaning. If you’ve ever
done the same, you know the search can set you wandering through a vague
landscape where many signposts point toward your childhood, your past
relationships, your unresolved issues, and emotional turmoil you didn’t know
you had.
Hanging
pictures, I learned, could mean I was reaching a compromise about a situation,
or perhaps coming to an understanding of things. Moving pictures could mean I
was reconsidering thoughts and feelings, or perhaps trying hard to please.
The
furniture might represent relationships—past and present—and how and where they
fit into my life. As with the pictures, moving furniture might mean I’m
reassessing how much space those relationships should take up and whether
they’re of the everyday-use or guest-room-only variety. The increasing weight
and size could mean I feel burdened.
I
pondered that and decided I do occasionally feel burdened—but mostly by my
relationship with exhausting dreams.
Perhaps
tonight I’ll dream about having the power to wake up before a dream wears me
out.
That
probably signifies something, but I have no intention of making another
excursion into the realm of dream interpretation in order to find out.
