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Varieties of Oneiric Experience

...is what tomsdisch labelled these investigations, and he held that hearing (in this case reading) others' dreams is as amusing as hearing any story can be, which I agree with completely, whether creepy and unheimlich or goofy and dadaist.  There's just no doubt that it all means something, and something important, but what or why can't be said, just as with stories themselves.  Teaching a lesson (or learning one) just won't do.

Anyway, after carefully grooming the data I seem to arrive at no conclusion -- most people don;t have those kinds of dreams and of the few who do there seem to be as many women as men -- so forget it.

It does suggest though the need for a real taxonomy of dreams:  not an analytic mode or method, we are far from that pace Freud and others, but a simple taxonomy, like the meme structure of folktales.  SO you can wake up and say oh one of those.  We do that anyway of course, but this would be science, like.

The Forgotten Errand.
The Big Nice House  (this one is cognate to the New Apartment, which in my dreams is always a wonderful refuge, sometimes with free meals or similar).
The Big Nice Elaborately Produced City.
The Big Guy who makes me Guilty/Nervous/Anxious
The Rock Band that Needs my Help (this can't, at least in this form, be a permanent fixture of mentality, though it might have earlier cognates. e.g.  The Shaman who Neeeds me to Beat the Drum.  In my case it was auditioning to replace the bassist in the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, a band I never even listened to much.)
Meeting Dead People who Act Alive
Being Dead but Still Alive
Meeting Famous Dead People who Act Alive

... well I seem to be drifitng into inconsequence, like the Chinese Encyclopedia. 


Comments

vakratunda
Jan. 23rd, 2007 01:57 pm (UTC)
Probably
I have more sordid Freudian style issues to work out than you.

I always thought that this song was inspired by a similar dream:

Detachable Penis - King Missile

I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my penis was missing again
This happens all the time
It's detachable
This comes in handy a lot of the time
I can leave it home when I think it's going to get me in trouble
Or I can rent it out when I don't need it

But now and then I go to a party
Get drunk
And the next morning I can't for the life of me
Remember what I did with it
First I looked around my apartment
And I couldn't find it
So I called up the place where the party was
They hadn't seen it either
I asked them to check the medicine cabinet
'Cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes
But not this time
So I told them if it pops up to let me know.

I called a few people who were at the party
But they were no help either
I was starting to get desperate
I really don't like being without my penis for too long
It makes me feel like less of a man
And I really hate to have to sit down every time I take a leak

After a few hours of searching the house
And calling everyone I could think of
I was starting to get very depressed
So I went to the Kiev and ate breakfast.
Then as I walked down Second Avenue toward St. Mark's Place
Where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street
I saw my penis lying on a blanket next to a broken toaster oven
Some guy was selling it
I had to buy it off him
He wanted 22 bucks but I talked him down to 17
I took it home
Washed it off
And put it back on
I was happy again
Complete
People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached
But I don't know
Even though sometimes it's a pain in the ass
I like having a detachable penis



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