DREAM SEQUENCE: Freud and his followers say that dreams are loaded with hidden and not-so-hidden meanings. I really wonder just how true that is. I know that some people have vivid dreams with intricate plot lines ripe for psychoanalysis. As to me, I seldom have dreams with any discernable theme to them. Most days I wake up with no memory of dreaming at all. And even when I do, my dreams aren’t very memorable. They mostly seem like fleeting, mundane images; e.g., I may be walking in a park for a second or two, then outside a warehouse, then in a car. On those rare occasions when my somnolent impressions have any discernable significance, their meaning is usually quite obvious; e.g., my anxiety that my new landlord is going to disrupt my peace and quiet by rebuilding the house (and then raise my rent!). In other words, my sleeping mind doesn’t seem to put a lot of energy into devising clever and symbolic ways of expressing my deepest desires and taboos. It just tries to get some rest.

The other night, though, I had a weird dream, weird enough to remember. In this dream, I was outdoors on a city street (could have been anywhere, the landscape wasn’t very memorable), and it was night. I was looking up at the dark sky and I could see a strange, glowing patch, bigger than a full moon, partly blocked by some buildings. This glowing area was brighter than a cluster of stars but not as bright as the moon, and had a strange swirly shape to it. I remember walking around to see it better from behind the buildings. A stranger said that it was from two different things way out in space. Then a little later, someone else said no, it’s only one thing, a ghost cloud. This wasn’t your ordinary cloud; it was way out there. It seemed uncanny and vaguely threatening, but not immediately dangerous. No need to run, but no cause to relax either.

Well, the dream could have ended right there, but then came act II. Still late at night in a city, like some scene from a Batman movie. Still a strange glowing cloud up in the skyline. But now, this guy that I used to know and haven’t seen for five years shows up. Marty is his name. Nice enough fellow, I helped him to get his job as an administrator at a social service agency. Now, before you Freudians start postulating some repressed homoerotic attraction on my part, let me tell the rest of the story. Marty comes over and looks at the cloud with me. He doesn’t seem afraid of it at all. He seems to think that it has some wondrous, mystical meaning behind it. He tells me that we just don’t know what that cloud is. I ask him, is that mostly because we haven’t sent any spaceships out to explore it yet? Marty then says no, we can never know what that celestial cloud is. Heavy, man!

Then I woke up and looked at the clock. 12:45 AM. Yea, not surprising. If I’m gonna have a weird dream, it’s usually early in the night, right around 1. No big deal, I usually get back to sleep pretty easily when I have them. I just rolled over and told myself that there is no “ghost cloud” out there; NASA and NORAD have got the heavens covered. Then it’s 5:30, no more ghost cloud dreams (or any other dreams), and it’s time to get up. All is normal.

Next morning, I thought about it some more. What did I eat that might have triggered all that? And where did Marty come from? Well, I didn’t eat anything funny that night, but just before going to bed I listened to a CD lecture about 18th Century philosopher David Hume and how he debunked the attempts of 17th Century thinkers who postulated that we can come to know God through the beautiful design of our Universe. OK, my subconscious was probably having some indigestion over that, given that I’ve also put some stock in the “natural theology” approach. And Marty? Oh, yea, I recall him having a simple albeit intelligent faith in the ultimate goodness of his employer, his Catholic religion, and his overall place in the world. As opposed to my existential skepticism regarding all of those things. Yea, Marty would be the guy who would have faith in the ultimate goodness of the unknown and the unknowable.

What is the ultimate lesson here? Hmmm … I’m not sure. But from now on, I’m gonna avoid both pizza and those Teaching Company lectures just before bedtime!