Wednesday, November 13, 2013

a dream about feces and aliens


So I'll admit it, I just tweeted something about the meaning of feces in dreams and lost a few followers. As a professional book critic I guess there's pressure to tweet about book related topics to my 430 (now twenty-something and falling followers) but dreams are important to me. For those willing to go there--they're brutally honest, eerily surreal channels of communication for those who: a) spend a lot of energy controlling emotions b) are in denial about desires which are forbidden or far-fetched c) won't give into fears in an effort to be strong, or d) all of the above. The list extends endlessly--to each their own. The hundreds of books in even more languages dealing with repressed desires, and how they relate to dreams, say so. Like if your body all of the sudden began stinking somewhere, on your feet or teeth, those of us who will listen will see these as signals telling us: maybe it's time for a tune-up. More about my strange dream related to feces:

I'm in my old bedroom from when I was a 13-17, the closets are mirrored sliding doors, inside sits a cage holding two pet mice, another cage is in the middle of the room. All of the sudden my husband's standing there asking me about the efficiency of owning mice as pets. Then his writing partner/our friend, Nick, comes into the room, looks at the cage in the closet, pulls a handful of hay from it, then picks up and dumps a cardboard boxful of feces on the floor; it's a lot, about ten pounds, and it looks like human feces. I complain about him dumping feces all over my floor; wonder how I'm going to clean it up; complain about the smell. Then Nick says, "Pets are a big responsibility, if you can't clean up after them every single day then you have no business owning them." 

Jump to me in a deserted grass-spotted lot lighting a kindled fire in what looks like a bird feeder--to alert aliens who part illuminated clouds and descend from the night sky and land in the lot to carry their brother away: a mouse I've neglected that's dehydrated and on the brink of death. When they land, they are traditional gray aliens and telepathically tell me that this mouse has no connection to them. They seem nonplussed but are calm and end up leaving me to deal with the dying mouse alone. I place its sick body on the ground, it limps away and disappears. That's when I faze back into my sleepy body in bed. 

A brief and crazy dream, maybe, but every detail plays as if this was actually a part of last night's waking events. I couldn't help myself. I looked up "feces dreams" to see what they mean. My guess was it might have something to do with depression, or any sort of degenerative state, but I was surprised to learn feces dreams are actually positive in the way they portend a financial windfall, meaning typically: to come into unexpected fortune that involves a large amount of money. The dream itself is supposed to offer insights into why you are having money problems. And "once you take these factors into consideration, you may have a better chance of uncovering hidden information that will help you make a decision that truly serves your best financial future in the best way possible." (source)

This makes sense since I recently found out we can't afford the house we're trying to buy, but on top of that my husband's family, and Nick, who chastised me in the dream, have all been offering advice that buying this house is a poor decision. They think we're getting in over our heads, due to the tenacious nature of success in the LA writing industry, and other factors, of course, domestic AND long-distance. According to my dream, Nick showed distain regarding my careless desire to nurture beyond my means. Call it a nesting instinct on my part, I'd like to think I'm being financially savvy to not want to throw money away on long-term rental properties. Whatever it is, hubbie and I obviously bit off more than we can chew and the decision's already causing a great deal of stress. The overall lesson: listen to the advice of those close to you who have established intelligence that's as pragmatic as it is caring. Our impulsive longings are hardly obvious--otherwise why would we dream about shit and aliens?


9 comments:

Blazintommyd said...

I had one the night before last where I was eating something and felt like a tooth broke and tried to spit it out and it was actually a mouthful of teeth - the dream book says it portends a financial reversal 8-| judging by my present situation it's hard to imagine. Ever notice these divination things are more like - they give you something to think about and you end up either saying pfffft or trying to conform to it?

Sabra Embury said...

Yeah, it's a lot like astrology. I've had missing teeth dreams, similar to what you're talking about, which says something about being obsessed with your appearance.

Anonymous said...

Hey Sabra, long time no read :)

In psychology, enuresis is associated with anxiety. Encopresis, anger.

Toodles,
Glacial Spain

Glacial Spain said...

*****
I'm in my old bedroom from when I was a 13-17, the closets are mirrored sliding doors, inside sits a cage holding two pet mice, another cage is in the middle of the room. All of the sudden my husband's standing there asking me about the efficiency of owning mice as pets. Then his writing partner/our friend, Nick, comes into the room, looks at the cage in the closet, pulls a handful of hay from it, then picks up and dumps a cardboard boxful of feces on the floor; it's a lot, about ten pounds, and it looks like human feces. I complain about him dumping feces all over my floor; wonder how I'm going to clean it up; complain about the smell. Then Nick says, "Pets are a big responsibility, if you can't clean up after them every single day then you have no business owning them." 
*****
The mirrors are saying, “Look at yourself.” The bedroom is your inner self. I don't know how you feel about your old bedroom, but I think for a lot of teenagers, their bedroom was their own personal kingdom and sanctuary. The cages and the cardboard box serve to contain, restrict. But what? Not you. You are the one employing their use. Pet mice, and shit. I thought it was strange that someone else dumped ten pounds of shit on the floor and then everyone just expected you to clean it up. Your merely complaining about it seems like a relatively mild response. (If it was my dream, that'd be the point where I yelled WTF and started attacking people with a baseball bat.)

Glacial Spain said...

I'm a little fuzzy about what the mice represent. On the one hand mice are vermin, but since they're pets, then maybe not... Also, mice are small and vulnerable. Among the animals we might sympathize with, they're at the bottom of the food chain... Taken in conjunction with the feces, though, and the fact that the mice are in the closet (where secrets are hid), I'm thinking they represent some repressed desire. But what desire?

Initially I thought the mice represented your son, but I think Nick represents your son. Pulling straw from your cages – something else for you to pick up after, and the action interferes with your desires. It also makes sense in terms of changing his diaper. Nick dumps feces on the floor and you have to clean it up, just like you have to change your son's diaper.

When Nick says, “Pets are a big responsibility, if you don't clean up after them...” is he talking about himself or the mice? Perhaps both at once: On the one hand, the expectation is often that parents must (mothers especially) sacrifice of themselves for their children. But I never met a mother that doesn't want to potty train their child ASAP. I suspect the drudgery of your domestic responsibilities is impinging on your personal desires.

Glacial Spain said...

*****
Jump to me in a deserted grass-spotted lot lighting a kindled fire in what looks like a bird feeder--to alert aliens who part illuminated clouds and descend from the night sky and land in the lot to carry their brother away: a mouse I've neglected that's dehydrated and on the brink of death. When they land, they are traditional gray aliens and telepathically tell me that this mouse has no connection to them. They seem nonplussed but are calm and end up leaving me to deal with the dying mouse alone. I place its sick body on the ground, it limps away and disappears.That's when I faze back into my sleepy body in bed. 
*****
The first time I read this I read “birdcage,” not “bird feeder,” and thought of burning (destroying) a cage that contains your spirit. But nope. Besides, the fire is meant to signal, not destroy. So, you wish to feed your spirit, and are signaling others about your desires. The aliens are sort of shadowy and generic, telepathic. In one sense they're your subconscious bearing the wisdom of the universe. Except instead of the life altering message you hoped for, they shrug and leave you alone. In another sense, I'm guessing they represent relatives who live out-of-town, because of what you wrote about them.

Are you able to balance your need to follow and express your desires, with domestic drudgery? (Not that all domestic responsibilities are drudgery – but let's face it: it isn't exactly bliss, either.) What does owning a house mean to you? To what extent would you equate drudgery with throwing money away on rent?

Sabra Embury said...

You've given me a lot to think about, GS. To answer your question about owning a house, if it's not rhetorical, it's terrifying. Any hard commitment is terrifying. Monotony scares me.

Glacial Spain said...

Owning a house is terrifying because it is a "hard" commitment? Maybe it's funny to you, then, that the thought of signing a 12 month lease makes me uncomfortable for the same reason! (After all, I could decide tomorrow to sell my house, and reasonably assume I could sell it at a fair price within three months.)

You know, of course, and all the money experts would agree that owning a house is financially wiser (along with a ~9 month emergency fund). So some day.

Glacial Spain said...

As for fearing monotony, Sabra, that is because you have the soul of an artist.

My wife is a pianist. She claims that to maintain her integrity as a performer, she must always guard against becoming numb. Sometimes it's a pain in the ass.

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