24 November 2005

Calling all psychoanalysts! A new contest

It's about time for another contest and I think I've beat Amy to the punch with a fun one. The prize this time is a postcard from Colin that features Salvador Dali's artwork.

The rules: I just woke up from a wacky dream (which is strange, normally my dreams are really lame and Amy's are the bizarre ones). Whoever comes up with the most entertaining analysis wins!

The Dream
I'm in Sioux Falls, SD, at my parents' old house (which they moved out of a few years ago). I have a doctor's appointment at 8:30pm at the University of Michigan Hospital. I look at my watch and decide to pick up dinner at Steak and Shake after the appointment (never mind that, to the best of my knowledge, there are none of those restaurants in Sioux Falls, much less in South Dakota).

Cut to me walking down the driveway to a car that's parked in the street. Amy yells after me telling me what she wants for dinner: some kind of burger topped with tomatoes, fries, and sour cream.

Cut to me in the garage getting into my parents' white Subaru station wagon. For some reason, the seat is really high. Since I'm a tall guy and my head is against the ceiling, I have to hunch down a little bit.

Cut to me driving the Subaru down the street I grew up on (which is one block long, with a park at the end).

Cut to me driving a bike down the sledding hill in the park at the end of my street. The bike is white and kind of looks like the motorized bicycles you see all around Paris. This one, however, doesn't seem to be motorized. Evidently, I missed the left turn at the end of the street, because when I get to the north end of the park, I head back to the street I should have been on. On my way there, an old woman walking some generic-looking drop-kick dog yells at me for driving a car in the park. [If you haven't heard the phrase "drop-kick dog" before, let's just say I could probably punt this particular one about 35 or 40 yards...]

Cut to me on the correct street (Judy Avenue), at the stop sign at the north end of that park, waiting to turn right. [For those of you who aren't familiar with Sioux Falls, this would take me the opposite direction of the hospitals.] After two cars pass, I turn onto 18th Street. I'm still on the bike and am finding pedalling to be very hard--ah, I think, I just need to downshift. But I can't find the gear-shift anywhere. I slowly pass an old man walking. I'm still looking for the gear-shift, and have found a number of buttons and dials on the side of the bike. I'm not sure what they're all for, since they seem to be the controls for some really advanced driver's seat in a luxury sedan. I get off the bike to take a closer look. There's the gear-shift, the dial that goes from 5 to 30, with little hashes that look like the millimeters on a ruler. It doesn't click between gears, however. It just turns smoothly, like the volume dial on a bass amp. The old man passes me, rather like the opening scene of Office Space. Getting back on the bike, I start pedalling and adjust to a more comfortable gear. As I pass the old man again, he shakes his head and mutters something unintelligible.

Cut to me riding the bike on a "shortcut." The setting reminds me of one of the shortcuts that my friends and I used to get to Dairy Queen when we were kids, but in the dream it's definitely supposed to be a shortcut to the hospital (remember, I'm going to my doctor's appointment). As I go over a hill and break through a line of trees, things start to get unfamiliar. I'm now heading down a long grassy slope. On the way down, I pass some dogs playing as their owners talk. At the bottom are some picnic shelters (all in use, of course) and a small Pioneer Village where kids are learning to churn butter à la Little House on the Prairie. I had been having problems with the gears again, but going downhill is obviously much easier once gravity takes over.

When I reach the bottom, I'm completely out of breath, am completely lost, and have 5 minutes until my appointment. Also, there are some little kids in the picnic shelter nearest me and their mother is yelling at me for almost running them over. All the kids at Pioneer Village have stopped churning their butter to stare at me. So, I start walking the bike back up the hill to get back to my "shortcut." On the way, three golden retreivers come racing at me in full dog-park mode. Their owners (two men and a young girl, who look straight out of some late 18th- or early 19th-century painting) come chasing after them.

Just as I was getting to the top of the hill and back to the forest, Didg woke me up so I'm not sure how this dream was supposed to finish. All I know is that as I came to, I was a bit confused to find myself in our Paris apartment and my entire body felt leaden.

So, now that you've read it, break out your copies of On the Interpretation of Dreams and get to work! What's bothering me this morning (other than Didg's barking)? I hope there are some good answers by the time I get back from my physical and interview at the Prefecture de Police (I should finally get my residency permit today!).


At 25/11/05 01:35, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Colin, my only answer is that you MUST be pregnant. (Not Amy, but you). This dream seems very similar to the ongoing, random dreams I have during pregnancy. :o)
Hope that works out for you. Do you have a good dr. in France?

At 25/11/05 23:14, Blogger Linda said...

I am sorry Colin, but as a Qualified Mental Health Professional, I must inform you that you have made the wrong choice by moving to Paris to pursue your education/career. It appears that your real talent lies in flipping gourmet burgers. You have a future as a fat boy, as expressed in your difficulty pedaling, and of course the burger part is obvious. I would say that if you start packing now, you can be back in the states and applying for a job at a Steak and Shake by Christmas!
Good luck and bon appetit!
Sabra's Mom

At 26/11/05 15:12, Blogger Linda said...

OR...you're just pregnant.


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