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October 20, 2005

494: The pitfalls of machine-assisted sleep.

We used the white noise machine again last night, this time using the cricket mode. It wasn't like sleeping on the Death Star, which we did the night before; it was more like sleeping in a field full of bugs but without the creepiness of sleeping among bugs.

It doesn't sound soothing but it was, and at first I thought it would be better than sleeping in outer space (as we did the night before). This new setting should lead to a more restful, natural sleep -- our dreams should be more pleasant and less weird, right? Wrong. So very wrong.

Last night I dreamed that I was visiting some girl's apartment, where her bed was set up inside a giant, glass-walled shower. I went into the glass bathroom to make a phone call and found that my cellphone had evolved into an updated version of my current phone.

I wasn't as confused by this phone-swap as I should be; I was mostly annoyed that the phone was black and purple plastic, and no longer metal. I like my metal phone. I shrugged it off and checked out the features on this new phone. To my surprise, the default ringtones included THREE versions of the Young One's theme ("to live, and love... THERE'S A SONG TO BE SUNG!"). Needless to say, I was completely pumped by this discovery.

We prepared to leave the Urban Outfitters-inspired (ugh) apartment, but someone needed a haircut. I watched as a frightening man cut someone's hair, and to my surprise, found that the maniac hairstylist was Ralph Fiennes. Ladies and gentlemen, I have zero interest in Mr. Fiennes -- I find him boring, pretentious, and dismal. I used to think he was kind of insane because he dumped Alex Kingston for some old bitty but then I saw Croupier and decided he made the right move. God, she sucks.

What was he doing in my dream? Well, he was cutting hair and glaring at me over the girl's head with wee, beady red eyes. Creeped out by that, I was glad when it was time to exit the apartment-turned-hair-salon-of-weak-mouthed-doom. We appeared, as if by magic, in what I assumed to be a school auditorium.

I was wrong -- it was some kind of auditorium on a giant ship, but I wouldn't find that out for a little while yet. The place was packed, so we had to hurry to get our seats as crowds of people filed past us to get theirs. In the crowd, I spotted a complacent-looking Daniel Craig. I contemplated congratulating him on the Bond thing but didn't want to give up my seat or abandon the people I had arrived with -- whoever they were, I didn't really know. We didn't talk much, we just looked around at everyone who wasn't lucky enough to get a seat.

Why were we sitting? I don't know. I didn't say seated for long. I got up and walked to the back of the auditorium, where I discovered that we were on a giant boat. I walked around on the back deck of the ship and had a feeling that something was about to go wrong, which it did -- the ship tipped down at the nose and spun around like a top. I don't think we died but we passively clung to the railings in a half-hearted attempt to save our own lives. I looked down and saw poor Dewey, my dwarf rabbit, sliding down the deck -- see, he's got no thumbs to speak of, so he had a harder time clinging to the railing. He slipped off the ship and that was the last I saw of him.

The alarm went off and rescued me from my own brain. I woke up feeling really well rested, but only in a physical sense. I mean, mentally, I feel like the white noise machine is going to make my brain asplode.

Maybe it's not the machine's fault -- maybe it's my brain's. Maybe the machine is only enhancing my ability to remember what my mind is already doing. Everyone knows you have more dreams than you remember, so maybe the machine is just letting me recall my dreams and this crap is happening in my mind on a regular basis. I've always had good dreams -- well, good in the funny sense, rarely in the sense of their containing anything happy or fortunate. Maybe my brain is more entertaining than I realized. Or, alternately, maybe I'm insane. I did a little research on it...

The major points of this dream were the presence of celebrities, an auditorium, a crowd, and a sinking ship.

The ship is a troubling thing; according to an online dream interpretation dictionary, a ship is "a symbol of major transformation or metamorphosis...
A sinking ship may indicate feeling overwhelmed by life, feeling that you’re at the mercy of the outside world or unable to transcend your life lessons." I didn't jump ship so I don't have to worry about it being a symbol of "being disloyal or moving on to other pursuits." On second thought, I think this is all a bunch of crap. I was dreaming about a ship because I like ships and earlier in the evening, Pete and I talked about how much I'd like to live on one. So, my conclusion is, the ship is fine, whatever.

The celebrities... well, they really mean nothing. According to another dream dictionary, "because today's media completely inundates the public with images and rumors of celebrities, they may appear in your dream simply as extraneous static." That sounds right. Also, I think I'm famous so that probably compounds things.

The crowd? "Increasing happiness and/or widening opportunity for betterment is assured in a dream featuring an orderly, good-natured crowd." Everyone seemed OK, even as they were falling off the boat and to their watery graves. So, I guess that's good.

Yet another dream dictionary says the auditorium "suggests that you have been delaying an important decision on which you would be wise to act."

I'm beginning to pick up on something here. Dream interpretation is like reading the horoscopes. It says "You enjoy eating food when you're hungry," and you're like, "OMG! That's totally me!! HOW DID IT KNOW THAT!?" Maybe I'm insane but I can't worry about it. I can, however, stay as far from Ralph Fiennes as possible. Also, if that boat has anything to do with the Bond franchise, I think someone should tell Daniel Craig.

Posted by ashley at October 20, 2005 11:08 AM

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