For a long time, as an adult, I didn’t remember my dreams. And when I did they were really grim affairs. Anxiety dreams that just went on and on repeating themselves. I was always going somewhere and I was late or I was on the wrong street, or in the wrong town or city. And on top of that I was late. These would go on for a long time. Repeating themselves. The one I liked least was I would be down in something like the bowels of a ship going up this stairs and down that one and on and on like a mouse in a vertical maze. That dream just tired me out.
I also had the teeth falling out dream. I called it the Chickletts dream. Because my teeth looked like Chickletts in my hand once they had fallen out.
But when I was a really little kid, before five maybe, I had a couple of dreams which if I remembered them during the day made me feel warm inside. One was a flying dream. I would be flying along in the forest and without thinking about it I would swing this way or that and miss this or that tree and if I came to a cliff I did not fall, but flew straight down the face of the cliff and then flew again a foot or two above the ground.
I enjoyed this dream a lot; it’s a dream of having great and magical powers. Most little ones have that inside them, but in my case, my parent’s beat that out of me pretty quickly. Well, they didn’t beat it out so much as beat it down and under. If you are lucky, you get gradually weaned from the idea that you have magical powers so that you are able slowly to adjust and adapt to the loss of those magical powers. But if they don’t get out this way and get pushed down, you go through life as an adult feeling like shit because way deep down there in the unconscious you still feel as if you have magical powers, but as an adult you are not living up to those powers. You can’t fly and you never will.
Winston Churchill was walking across a bridge one day and there was the top of a tree not far from the bridge. So he jumped, like he could fly, or something and almost killed himself from the fall. He turned out to be a man with near magical powers.
The other one was about money. I would be walking along and I would notice a penny, and then another penny, and then a dime, and a quarter and so on, a trail of money in the forest, and sometimes I would dig in the earth and find a whole cache of coins. But most frequently the trail of money would lead to a kind of hole at the base of a tree and I would dig around in the leaves in the base of that tree and unearth whole handfuls of coins.
I guess this dream is about being lucky and striking it rich. But there’s something about that hole in the base of the tree that reminds me of an anus. So maybe the dream is about turds. Freud says the kid’s first gift is a turd. Some kids in fact upon first going to the bathroom pick up their turds and take them back to mom or dad and say, Look Mommie what I have done. Our turds are our first really big production; the first thing we make all on our own. So if a little kid ever walks up to you with a turd and says, look what I have done, don’t yell, you fucking little perverted monster get that shit out of here. Instead, admire the shit for a little bit, and then instruct the little one on the toilet’s flushing function.