Inaugural Post – New Moon in Aires
This is about a dream.
Recently, I had a terrible one. It occurred on a Wednesday. The dream jolted me awake at 2:40 AM. Not a good thing, if your alarm is set for 6:00 AM. and you are scheduled to report to the office at 8:45.
Backstory: I work in a cubicle. I am surrounded on three sides by grey padded walls, that are taller than me. I am 5 foot 5. The 4th wall, which faces a narrow aisle, is 1 foot shorter, with an opening cut in the middle. This is where I enter to access my swivel chair. When seated in my swivel chair, the cubicle swallows me whole.
Here is my dream (armchair interpretations are most welcome):
After much tossing and turning, I fell into a dream. The apartment I was living in seemed more like a house. However, it was on the ground floor. The back section of the house was missing its wall. The interior was open to the air. I was inside the house.
I looked out the window and saw neighbors inside their respective houses staring back at my house through their windows. Soon after that, they left their houses and began filing into mine and taking over my space. The treated my belongings as if they were their own. Next, their kids rushed in and began trashing the place.
I noticed my handbag on a nearby shelf. I took it down and searched inside for my pink wallet and iPhone. They were gone. Stolen, I thought.
Consumed with dread, I asked everyone who had invaded my house if they had seen my wallet and phone. Their behavior was to deny everything, like the witches in the movie Rosemary’s Baby. Then they accused me of being a bad person.
I desperately tried to escape from my own house. I found it impossible to navigate my way, without no access to the GPS on my missing phone. I felt lost in my own house.
Staircases were everywhere inside my house, going up and down, leading nowhere, like the M.C. Escher graphic at the top of this page. The air inside was swampy.
The invaders, my presumed neighbors, began looting my house. Stealing my furniture and claiming it as their own.
Suddenly, my sister showed up. She immediately started moving my belongings out to the curb. When I protested, she treated me as if only she knew what was good for me and that I was an incompetent.
I was terrified my identity had been stolen from me. I wanted to call for help, but could not do that without my phone. Everyone inside my house was acting duplicitous and seemed to enjoy the torment they were inflicting on me.
For a brief instant, a faint realization dawned on me: If they took all of my furniture I would not even care. But I needed my phone. It was my lifeline.
Again, I tried to escape. I ran all around the house, going in circles. I felt trapped. The people in the dream seemed vaguely familiar to me, but they were not intimates. It was as if i knew them from somewhere, but was certain I could not trust them.
When I awoke abruptly at 2: 40 AM, I had a tension headache and sore neck. l reached for my iPhone and scanned the headlines in the N.Y. Times. l read an essay written by a woman who had just recovered from a stroke.
“Make everyday count,” she advised, quoting Steve Jobs.
(Was this a message from the ether?)