I feel attacked by my subconscious
This is Why We Shouldn’t Analyze Our Dreams
From someone who has never analyzed a dream, ever
I’ve never put much meaning into dreams, like I don’t put meaning into reruns of Full House or That 90s Show. That being said, I do have one recurring dream.
This dream always takes place in a house I used to live in, not always the same house. Most recently it was the apartment I lived in with my dad in Gardner, ME. The location is familiar and, at the same time, unfamiliar. I walk through the kitchen into a room that did not exist when I lived here. It’s a bedroom, and I walk through it to another bedroom. I walk through that room to another bedroom. I walk through that room to another bedroom. And on, and on. My recurring dream is of a house with infinite bedrooms. What is my subconscious trying to tell me?
When I started having this dream I wasn’t in a house I had lived in. It was my rich aunt’s house in Scarsdale, NY, which makes more sense because her house was big and did have, seemingly, endless bedrooms.
Seriously. I remember climbing a ladder in my cousin’s closet into a whole ass bedroom I didn’t know existed. It was small and felt to me, a teenager, like a room frozen in time.
Looking back, this is almost definitely where the dream started.
I don’t put much power behind dreams, but I know a lot of people do, so I made my way over to dreamdictionary.com to do some diligent research. I learned that 1) the study of dreams is called oneirology, and 2) Bedrooms represent personal space and are “associated with feelings of your private life you may not be willing to disclose.” Along with that, the bedroom “mirrors a part of the personality of the dreamer that they may not be familiar with as yet.”
Well shit. Maybe my subconscious is actually trying to tell me something.
I think the dream started from a place of envy. I was just becoming an adult, with full fledged mental illness, facing the terror of the real world. I was 18 and I remember having this exact thought more than once:
“My parents somehow managed to not be living with their parents….. HOW?”
The actual answer to that question has a lot to do with capitalism, inflation, the cost of living, the housing market, etc. The dream doesn’t worry about those things. The dream doesn’t care about a mortgage for a house with infinite bedrooms because in the dream, the house is already mine. And I don’t just have enough room for me but for everyone I love and care about! What a comforting thought.
So it could be said, as I’ve become an Actual Adult, the dream has shifted from a place of envy to a place of — anxiety? What if the dream is a coping skill my subconscious uses while I’m asleep to ease the anxiety I’m always feeling as someone who has to exist in, and somehow survive, capitalism?
It’s true that there is always an amount of worry at the back of my brain designated for financial concerns, including housing, food, medical needs, and leisure activities. It’s also true that there is never enough money for all of these needs. Some stuff might get put off, incremental payments might get made to keep services going, while I just sort of hold my breath waiting for the next paycheck that is, inevitably, already spent on bills, food, gas.
This is a reality for many, many, many Americans who live “paycheck to paycheck.” Obviously I knew I was living this way, but I think I had reached a state of such radical acceptance that I didn’t even realize how much anxiety was being generated in the back of my mind. It is what it is, I thought, No sense wasting energy thinking about it.
Then I try to analyze my one recurring dream in the hope of writing a satirical article, something funny, and learn that, in fact, I am such a ball of nerves that my brain puts me in a cocoon of bedrooms so I can feel safe and warm for just a little longer. So I can stop worrying about where I’m going to live when my house inevitably falls down. So I can stop worrying about how I will stay warm in the winter. So I can stop worrying about where my family will live, and how my family will stay warm. So I can stop worrying about things I didn’t know I was worrying about.
I enjoy this dream. It’s familiar, warm, colorful, and cozy. Instead of just enjoying this dream, though, I should start appreciating it. And maybe call my therapist.
