"How will I know?"
I don't normally remember my dreams, but I do remember one this morning. And it's possibly the most unsettling one I've ever had.
I'm in this house, see, and elements of it (like the big screen TV) have been lifted from the house of a friend of Shane who kindly let us hang out there one weekend. But there's a long (infinite? you know how dreams go) hallway, filled with doors. And behind each of those doors sits one of my friends, past or present.
And they're all sad. I don't know how else to describe it to you. I sit in the living room playing video games until finally somthing makes me get up and start walking down the hallway. I want to go into the rooms and help my friends in whatever way I can, comfort them in some way, but something stops me; in that weird logic we know in dreams I know that if I knock on the doors they'll tell me to go away.
And again, with dream logic, those "go away"s carry with them an undercurrent of resentment, of "you can't possibly help me", maybe even of accusation, as if I had some part in causing their current state.
Now, in real life, I do like to help my friends when they're having troubles or feeling bad. I see someone I like in distress, I want to talk with them about it until they feel better. But I've learned over the years that sometimes intervention isn't wanted or helpful, and that talking about it sometimes is counterproductive (at least for the moment). I've gotten better at getting across the idea that I want to help them but if the help they need is solitude, I can do that too. And I've gotten better at, y'know, actually leaving people alone.
But I'm sure it's that insecurity, that I'm somehow making things worse and that my attempts at help result in nothing but strife and contempt, that underlies the dream. What makes it weirder is that as far as I know none of my friends are having any problems that would make them as crushingly sad as they were in my dream. I don't really believe in premonitions, but I wanted to email everyone who appeared in the dream when I woke up and ask if they were doing okay.
But on the other hand, I know when I find out I've been in someone else's dream I always think it's a little bit weird. So I'm not going to do that. I hope if any of them do have problems I can help, though. People (myself included, of course) often don't communicate with others when they could use help, and I think that's for the worse.
Oh, and my dream had a soundtrack, a repeated bit from the middle of an old Pavement b-side. It's got the incredibly silly title of 'Mussle Rock (Is A Horse In Transition)', but it's one of the most heartwrenchingly yearning songs I've heard recently. The part I was hearing, over and over again, door to door, consisted on some sturdy electric-Neil-Young style backing, and Scott Kannberg repeating the same refrain over and over again. I'm still a little bit weirded out over the dream, and the song, right now.
I'm in this house, see, and elements of it (like the big screen TV) have been lifted from the house of a friend of Shane who kindly let us hang out there one weekend. But there's a long (infinite? you know how dreams go) hallway, filled with doors. And behind each of those doors sits one of my friends, past or present.
And they're all sad. I don't know how else to describe it to you. I sit in the living room playing video games until finally somthing makes me get up and start walking down the hallway. I want to go into the rooms and help my friends in whatever way I can, comfort them in some way, but something stops me; in that weird logic we know in dreams I know that if I knock on the doors they'll tell me to go away.
And again, with dream logic, those "go away"s carry with them an undercurrent of resentment, of "you can't possibly help me", maybe even of accusation, as if I had some part in causing their current state.
Now, in real life, I do like to help my friends when they're having troubles or feeling bad. I see someone I like in distress, I want to talk with them about it until they feel better. But I've learned over the years that sometimes intervention isn't wanted or helpful, and that talking about it sometimes is counterproductive (at least for the moment). I've gotten better at getting across the idea that I want to help them but if the help they need is solitude, I can do that too. And I've gotten better at, y'know, actually leaving people alone.
But I'm sure it's that insecurity, that I'm somehow making things worse and that my attempts at help result in nothing but strife and contempt, that underlies the dream. What makes it weirder is that as far as I know none of my friends are having any problems that would make them as crushingly sad as they were in my dream. I don't really believe in premonitions, but I wanted to email everyone who appeared in the dream when I woke up and ask if they were doing okay.
But on the other hand, I know when I find out I've been in someone else's dream I always think it's a little bit weird. So I'm not going to do that. I hope if any of them do have problems I can help, though. People (myself included, of course) often don't communicate with others when they could use help, and I think that's for the worse.
Oh, and my dream had a soundtrack, a repeated bit from the middle of an old Pavement b-side. It's got the incredibly silly title of 'Mussle Rock (Is A Horse In Transition)', but it's one of the most heartwrenchingly yearning songs I've heard recently. The part I was hearing, over and over again, door to door, consisted on some sturdy electric-Neil-Young style backing, and Scott Kannberg repeating the same refrain over and over again. I'm still a little bit weirded out over the dream, and the song, right now.
