Time Looks Like a Slinky

‘There is nothing to fear from one who shouts.’ – Chinua Achebe

You can’t talk about Freud anymore, because if you do, people either roll their eyes and label you an excitable dumb ass, or start in on an analysis based on a misunderstanding of The Interpretation of Dreams. So I don’t talk about him, because a) I can’t bring myself to read The Interpretation of Dreams, and b) I’m still not sure if he wasn’t a loony. Yes, most his ideas have been discredited, and, yes, I think his theories about penis envy and so forth reveal more about himself than they do about society as a whole, but the point is, I keep having this dream where someone is trying to kill me.

For most of my life, I’ve had dreams that are so vivid and memorable, that I have a hard time telling the difference between something I’ve dreamed and something that actually happened. This happens more often since I’ve moved to Chicago. Either city life is just that surreal to me, or I’m getting crazier. Neither would surprise me. It’s my blooming season.

Anyway, even if you don’t believe in dream analysis, it’s pretty obvious that the someone-trying-to-kill-me/chase dream is based in waking anxiety of being attacked, either physically, mentally, or emotionally. I read an article recently that these types of dreams are more common among single women in an urban environment, who feel vulnerable for obvious reasons.

Se  ñor Clackybones

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