Dream Interpretation Thread

[Adam Strange]

It’s the weekend and I had a rare day when I could sleep in and so I didn’t set my alarm. Instead, I woke up naturally at 8 AM with sunlight streaming through the window. For some reason (maybe the blankets were too warm, IDK) I went back to sleep.

I don’t do well when I sleep too long, and after two more hours, my unconscious was fashioning a dream that was a nightmare, in order to wake me up. This is its modus operandi, and I’m quite familiar with it. What is interesting is the form of the nightmare that it sends me.

I’m an e8w7, 3w2, 6w7. Enneagram 8 is fear of being controlled, 3 is fear of being insignificant, and 6 is loss of faith in authority. So, of course, my dream dwelled on these points.

I found myself stuck in a large building that resembled an embassy. I and members of my team were working long hours in the dark basement, while the rich and elegant people we worked for were having a party in the beautiful rooms above us. The computer guys on the team decided to improve the computers and accidentally put them all out of commission after dinner, so I, feeling tired and frustrated, decided to go home and perhaps they would be fixed in the morning.

I was dead tired and hit the wrong button on the elevator and was taken to the upper floor of the embassy instead of the street. There, the party with the beautiful, exotic-looking people was in full swing. I was neither dressed for that nor emotionally up for it. The elevator stopped working so I had to find the stairs to go back down.

As I wandered around looking for the stairs, I found a room that opened onto a balcony over a lake. The children of the rich and famous had found that place to retreat to, similar to what kids do during large family get-togethers during holidays. I struck up a conversation with one boy, about 11, and asked him what he liked to do. He said he had a toy boat he liked to pilot across the lake outside. I asked him some technical questions about the boat; how it worked, how it was designed, and he just looked at me blankly. I realized, with a great deal of resentment, that he was probably richer now than I would ever be, and he’d never have to know anything to get even richer. He was born on the escalator.

I found my way down to the street level and was confronted with rows and rows of exotic cars, all of which I wanted and none of which I would ever own. My resentment grew larger, because the gap between my life and the lives of the undeserving rich was obviously large and growing larger. “Why work for this system?”, I thought. “I want to destroy it and replace it with a meritocracy.”

And then I woke up. If you call this waking state different from the dream.