As far as I can remember I have always had dreams. Not like the "I have a dream today" type dreams, though I do have hopes and dreams. To what I am referring are night-time sleeping dreams. I have always had vivid dreams and remember most of them. If you think my mindless musings are peculiar (at best) when I'm awake, then you can only imagine how unconventional my subconscious notions can be.
About a year ago, when I was visiting with my counselor, we talked a lot about dreams. She said that many experts would encourage one to run out and purchase the newest Dream Dictionary. However, she advised that dreams really only mean something to the person that has them. In this case me - and that if I really thought about it, I could totally figure out the significance of the dream. This concept seemed right up my alley, as I love to over-analyze things.
Needless to say, over the last year I have had ample opportunity to analyze plenty of my weird dreams. Many times I can totally figure out why I dreamt about a certain event or a certain person, or perhaps even the overall symbolism of the dream. However, last night seemed to be an exception. I truly can't figure this one out. Here goes...
I was at a friend's house relaxing alone in his bed! In comes this heavy-set man, dressed in fly fishing gear, with a newspaper under one arm, devouring a can of Pringles (only about half the chips actually end up in his mouth). He sort of talks in this semi-gruff Chris Farley-ish voice. "Scootch over and make room for pops!"
I was like, "ewww". In real life this man resembles my friend's dad no more than I do. At any rate this was supposedly his father in the dream. Apparently he wanted to watch the TV in the bedroom. In order to distract myself, I take out a little piece of white paper and begin to fold it in half several times over until it is about 1 square inch. Then I take a pair of scissors and attempt to cut out the tiniest homemade paper snowflake the world has ever seen.
Soon, I am getting rather irritated by "Pops" who is continually chewing with his mouth open and getting Pringle crumbs all up in the bed. I decide I can't take it anymore. I leave the bedroom in search of my friend, who has apparently abandoned me to fend for myself. I pass the hallway bathroom - and the door is wide open - and there he is, on the John, with his pants down around his ankles, reading a magazine!!!
I tell him to hurry, that Pops is driving me crazy, and then I head downstairs to the kitchen in search of a drink, as I am suddenly parched. Dishes are everywhere, though they appear to be clean. And even weirder, the counter tops are covered with baby bottles. My friend doesn't even have any babies. I yell up to him and inquire about the bottles, and he responds something about feeding the baby animals. Not only does my friend not have babies, he doesn't like animals. Well, not that he doesn't like animals, he just doesn't have a need for any pets in his life. I decide that the dishes need to be put away, and if nothing else it will keep me away from piggish Pops. So, I end up cleaning the kitchen, and feeling like my work is never done.
So, there you have it - the dream that makes no sense. Dream Diagnosis Anyone?