Dream

I’ve mentioned already how much I adore sleep. However, I’ve always had trouble indulging in my favorite pastime – thoughts swirl in my head until I'm entangled in worries. Relaxation is difficult to find in the middle of anxious obsessions. I’ve attended seminars and audited classes to find reasons for my inability to let go and rest, and though I have some decent ideas, there haven't been effective resolutions.

I think one of the benefits, if you can call it that, of a mild sleep disorder is frequent memory of dreams. I lived on campus for my first 2 years of undergrad. My room was near the top of a 12 story building, so I’d sometimes opt to wait in line for the single elevator that would carry me to my floor. I can never remember it malfunctioning in my presence. Always absent during early morning fire alarms, I never was forced to endure the climb downstairs, the cold wait outside in pajamas and slippers, then the sleepy trek back up all those steps.

The elevator would often struggle in those times of stress. Overloaded with students who were so eager to return to bed that they would overfill the small space, it would sometimes just stop between floors. I was told that people would pry open the doors and squeeze out to the floor below or be pulled up to the floor above as the elevator hung suspended between.

These worries of a less-than-reliable elevator must have worked their way into my subconscious. Perhaps I wondered if my laziness in not always wanting to take the stairs would be punished. But the risk of being trapped seemed small, so most of the time I’d take my chances, step in, press my button and move to the rear of the car. I’d always hold on to the bar, but never thought much of it.

My recurring dream through those years, even after moving out of the dorm and into a 2 story apartment building, was of the elevator. It wouldn’t get stuck though. Instead, I’d be all alone – returning from class or a much-loved trip to Target – and it would rise for a moment, then begin to spin. Around and around it would twirl, steadily rising upward simultaneously. I don’t mind spinning, though I knew the elevator shouldn’t be rotating so rapidly. But since I was still going up, there was no reason to panic. I’d soon reach my floor, then the spinning would stop and the ride to be over. While unpleasant, the mild rotation was never a big problem.

But as soon as I had calmed myself and focused on the numbers above the doors that marked the progress of my ascent, the elevator would begin to tremble on it’s axis. While continuing to rise and spin, it began to flip end over end. The rotation in 2 directions created a path I was unable to predict. I sometimes traveled diagonally, sometimes upside down – but I was continually pulled in different directions. Unable to adjust, I was scared – out of control, unfamiliar with my ever-changing environment, and not at all sure I was still headed in the right overall direction. I would cling to the bar though. It gave me a way to remain slightly stable so while I was pulled in many directions, only my body was free to move. My head remained near the bar as I wrapped my arms around it to ensure I wouldn’t be torn loose.

I’d awaken, clutching a pillow, frown over having the same dream again, then drift back into sleep, sometimes to dream of the elevator again, but mostly to move on to other imaginary pursuits. Once I gain initial sleep, it’s easy enough to get there again. So I’m used to waking up for a moment, acknowledging a dream or thought, then falling back into the pleasures of sleep.

Interpreting this dream isn’t difficult – the dorm was my first living space away from home, college is a different atmosphere than I had known in high school, I had new friends, new independence and classes in which I desperately wanted to succeed so I could prove myself. My interest in this series of dreams centers around the bar I clung to so tightly. Wrapping around it, sometimes legs as well as arms, it always accommodated me, despite the fact that there was barely room to fit my fingers between the bar and the wall in the beginning of the dream. As the elevator ride grew less controlled, there was more room around the bar to hang on.

I think the bar was God, or maybe just faith in general. I grew spiritually while completing my undergraduate degree, and increased understanding and acceptance required the exploration of different faiths, different ideals, and people who were far from those I had grown up with. I think that threw my subconscious into a tumble of confusion – when you take away the stable feeling of predictability, there’s constant guesswork as to what you accept as truth, what you need to consider carefully and what you want to avoid.

I wish I had saved some of the things I had written then. I wrote for a community paper in high school, which undoubtedly makes me super-cool, so I can glance over some words on a page and remember how I looked at the world. Time has mellowed how I remember my days as an undergrad. I do recall some stress and bad decisions, and how I pursued some poor boy relentlessly despite his lack of interest. While that embarrassment remains sharp, the other experiences are more fuzzy. And while I know I associated the elevator dream with trying to stay safe in the midst of an uncontrollable, scary situation, I’m not sure how much I really considered it in the context of some major life lessons I was trying to learn. Was I too inexperienced or distracted to interpret my subconscious musings, or did I understand things then as I think I do now?

I rely on control. I love predictability and will attempt to set routines that make my life incredibly stable. But there is always some chaotic element - something I don't expect, can't control and may not comprehend. But I have a bar to cling to - a faith which has been enduring and strong, though I don't tend to it as I should; a family who has provided constant support and love; friends, who though far away think of me and wish me well; and faith in the goodness of people. I believe that we want good things for each other, that when I read about someone being pregnant, adopting a child, getting married, finishing school, getting a book deal, or winning the lottery, I, like most people, would smile and congratulate them on their good fortune. Because while scary things happen, they are countered by the amazing and the profound - you just have to hang on long enough to see them.