Dream last night: it was interesting because the time I experienced in the dream seemed to happen over the course of an entire day. I have plenty of dreams where 24 hrs lapses between the start and finish of the dream, but the actual time experienced in the dream is only within the hour or less that I am actually having the dream in real life. Occasionally, I have one of those Inception-type dreams, where the time experienced actually seems to be so much longer than the time I am living in real life. This was one such dream.
I forget most of the beginning of it now, other than some turn of events in my life had led me to become a wandering homeless man. As I wandered far from my home, I came upon a vast estate of a wealthy older couple who liked to throw extravagant outdoor parties at night and had a golf course, large dam with a popular fishing spillway, and a huge botanical garden among other things on their estate. At some point, my uncle, who died seven years ago, started chasing me through some of the woods of the estate and he wanted to kill me. In the dream, I could recognize him as being a familiar face, and I even sort of knew his name, though I applied his son’s (in real life) middle name to him at one point in the dream, getting the rest of his name from real life correct.
In the dream, he was also not really represented as my uncle or former uncle, but simply another homeless wanderer like myself who wanted to kill me for some reason. I stepped into the limelight of the evening outdoor party to get away from him and be seen around other people, thinking he wouldn’t try to kill me if others were watching. He didn’t. I soon saw where they were keeping the wine, and wanted to distract the entertainers and hosts long enough to sneak over and steal a bottle of wine, but I didn’t get to. As the party wound down, I realized I had to go on the run again to get away from my killer uncle.
I ran down a hillside as day broke, and realized that I was just not going to get any sleep as long as I was on the run. This is when I encountered the golf course and fishing spillway that the rich couple had opened up to the public. I ran past them and found myself walking through an area where people disposed of massive amounts of junk of various kinds, and then walked back up the other side of the hill into the botanical gardens and into a special house the rich couple had created for homeless people to bathe and change clothes. My killer uncle entered the house as well, and began trying to entertain everyone in there with all of the different voices he could do (he never did such a thing in real life). Then, he said “you can call me Hillbilly from now on.” This is when I started shouting to everyone that this wasn’t his real name and his real name was — then I shouted his full name from real life, except I inserted his son from real life’s middle name in here instead. Finally, he looked at me and said “at 12:30 PM today you and I are going to meet here and settle this.”
I said, “Fine,” except, I really intended to run again. A woman approached me and said that she would pay me $500 if I could find some kind of special item of junk for her–it was something like the engine on a specific make and model of car, or a similar strange request. Remembering the junk near the bottom of the hill and the spillway, I told her that I didn’t recall seeing anything like what she was asking, but I would happily find her some other junk that she would probably like. She agreed to this proposal and offered to drive me back down there to the junk. I woke up after this.
I just remembered that I’d had another dream about my uncle about two weeks ago, and had recorded it. I don’t know what exactly he represents. I know that I did hold some resentment toward him even after he died. Perhaps my subconscious is prompting me as this is someone whom I haven’t completely forgiven and let go yet, although I do think that I have. Perhaps as someone who kind of represents an authoritarian male figure for me, he is acting sometimes as a stand-in for Donald Trump, who is kind of the ultimate male authoritarian figure of the present whom I do clearly resent and despise. Generally speaking, I can’t stand the male or the female ego at their worst. Anyone on a high horse who thinks they have been given some special authority to tell me how to conduct my life is generally likely to get a bucket of bile from me in my journal unless I happen to have solicited their advice or wisdom.
After I stopped dyeing my hair (which was already pretty gray by my early thirties), I suddenly stopped having a lot of those high-horse men and women take it upon themselves to offer unsolicited advice into how I should conduct myself in social settings. It was kind of nice, but then I also suddenly had a lot of younger folks seem to resent me as being automatically the douchey older dude in the workforce who was going to pooh-pooh their foozeball tables and other millennial fun. I never really could decide if the worklife was better when people thought I was a twentysomething when I was really thirty-four or when people thought I was a fortysomething when I was really thirty-five. Of course, I am descending into utter navel-gazing, and I’ve lost any thread of being able to interpret last night’s dream.