Dream On

Yesterday the first thing I did when I got to work was check our mental health provider’s schedule to see if she had any openings. She didn’t, so I was forced to corner her in the break room instead, which was okay because I needed coffee and that way she couldn’t charge me.

“So just out of curiosity,” I said. “What do you suppose it would mean if a person were to dream they were having sex with a guy like, um, Ryan Gosling maybe? In a shower? And then their mother walked in.”

She spewed decaf, patted me on the back and walked away laughing. And she calls herself a professional. Then again, why would I trust anyone who drinks decaf to begin with?

The dreams have been a little odd lately. Well odd-er. I’ve always had my old standbys. The one where I’m at a rodeo and they’re calling my name to compete and I can’t find my horse, which always means there’s something coming up in my life that I don’t feel prepared for. And then there’s the one where I have to go to the bathroom and the only toilet is in the middle of a room full of people, which generally happens when I’m feeling vulnerable and um, exposed.

Lately, though, my dreams are beyond my interpretation. Like the one about The Comb.

Remember back in the seventies when it was the epitome of cool to carry a big wide-toothed comb in your back pocket? I’m pretty sure John Travolta started it in Welcome Back Kotter. Or maybe it was Saturday Night Fever. Do any of you remember? (Peers at audience.) Oh. Right. A lot of you probably didn’t have hair yet in the seventies. Or even bodies.

Anyway, my husband still has one of those combs. Blue turquoise with enough heft to foil a mugger should the need arise and one broken tooth. He had it when I met him. Refuses to comb his hair with anything else. That thing has traveled with us to every single rodeo, every voyage home for Christmas, every camping trip in a wilderness area accessible only by horseback. The Comb is forever.

Last week, I dreamed I broke The Comb. Three pieces. Unrepairable. I was devastated, quite sure it was going to be the end of my marriage.

At two-forty-five a.m. my husband rolled over, squinted at me and said, “What are you doing?”

“Just checking.” I stowed The Comb safely in the medicine cabinet, shut off the bathroom light and climbed back in bed.

I have no clue what this dream was supposed to mean. I am not aware of any dire marital issues, but I have been writing a lot lately so it’s possible I just didn’t notice when my husband brought in that Russian mail order bride, although I really wish he’d ordered one who’s into dusting. And laundry.

As for the Ryan Gosling dream…well, you’d have to read the scene I wrote just before bedtime that night to understand why I’m pretty sure I know where that one came from.

And no, my mother will not approve.

Kari Lynn Dell – Montana for Real

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13 Responses

  1. Drives my husband crazy that I can remember so many of my dreams when I wake up. It’s not uncommon for me to remember 4 or more of them. And I know I dream in color.

    I guess I’m old but I don’t really know who Ryan Gosling is! I know he’s supposed to be the “hot” item but I was clueless. I googled him. Nope. Still no clue. Never seen any of his movies.

    My worst dreams always involve being back in my old job, which is odd as I didn’t really hate the job…My boss is another matter! But the job was great.

    Hubby tells me that I giggle in my sleep. Probably not dreaming about sex. πŸ™‚

    • That was actually the weirdest part of the dream. As far as I know I’ve never watched Ryan Gosling in anything but a movie trailer, and he’s sure not who I’d pick to play my hero. But he um, filled the role in my dream really well.

      *fans self*

  2. I’m so glad I can’t remember most of my dreams. LOL The last one had me on top of my frig with a bear at the bottom trying its best to eat me! I have no idea and I’m not sure I really want to. Now why can’t I have dreams with hunky guys in showers? I think I need to read that scene you wrote, Kari. πŸ™‚

    • Last night I dreamed I got a pickup stuck in a stairwell. I think we were in a high school. I have no idea whose pickup or what high school or why we were driving down the stairs, but I do know these vivid dreams are very hormonal. I only have them for a certain ten days out of every month.

  3. Haven’t a clue what your dream meant but want you to know that the comb came out much, much earlier….fifties, sixties…. I remember one in Rebel Without a Cause – James Dean…., pretty sure Sal Mineo had one and many, many more.

    • Josie,

      Now that I think about it Fonzie always carried a comb, but it seems like they were the little black fine toothed kind. My husband’s is about six inches long and has the handle that stuck out of your pocket so everybody could see it. They went hand in hand with the feathered hair era.

  4. The shower dream is easy to interpret — your inner “mommy” (i.e., you conscious) was keeping you from further indiscretion with Mr. Gosling. Next time, try to dream you lock the bathroom door before you get in the shower. πŸ˜‰

    • Or maybe don’t dream that I’m in the shower at my mother’s house. That was dumb of me. And just when we were getting to the good parts, too.

  5. I remember more about my feelings during the dream than the actual dream itself. unless I’m in a silly dream like I’m in a gun fight, have take 6bullets and I’m still “okay” and fighting.

    and I do dream in color too, but not full color. like there will be a vibrant red coat. or a really green tree. Whatever the color, it’s extremely bright and attention grabbing.

  6. I love discussing dreams!

    I dream very vividly and exhaustingly a great deal of the time. Unfortunately, whenever I have a dream about a guy, even if I’m not me in the dream, when I get close to indiscretion my subconscious reminds me that I am, in fact, married and can’t do that. I HATE MY SUBCONSCIOUS.

    I remember those combs! They still make them, but no one carries them in their back pockets anymore. I don’t know why. So handy. πŸ˜‰ Funny that your husband still has his!

  7. I love your posts, so funny…and intriguing.

    I’m not sure what dreams are…if they are foretelling then I got a lot of issue forthcoming. I have some truly weird one. Weird, weird, and sometimes creepy. It’s the writer’s mind. I’m sure.

    Oh, and I dream in color. And I’m always slim. (Delusional, I know)

    • Yeah, that’s the best part. Like in the shower dream, where it was more like I was one of my heroines than myself (skinny and no husband) right up until that part where my mom showed up. Then it was ALL me.

  8. Ha, too funny, Kari. Sometimes I remember dreams really well, and others, not so much. And they always make perfect sense right until I wake up.

    Like Keri, the emotions often stick with me longer than the dream itself. I don’t usually dream about what’s going on in my life, but in college I had some vivid coding (computer programming) dreams after pulling 10-12 hours working on a project. Those are like not even getting to rest. Ugh.

    Love that you had to check that The Comb was okay. πŸ˜‰

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