Dreams are little dramas
I rarely take notice of dreams unless I can use them in a story. The one’s I usually remember are more like a Jackson Pollock painting than a coherent image. So when I had a recurring dream that someone had stolen my underwear from its drawer I realized there was a reason for it.
All I can remember in the dream is waking up and find my underwear drawer open and empty. I checked out the dream interpretation on line and found nothing very helpful. In another search I found a very interesting if not simple explanation as to what is a dream.
“Dreams are the little dramas our minds make up when the "self" system is not keeping us alert to the world around us.”
If this is true then my mind has more dramas than an American daytime soap. Friends often ask me to interrupt their dreams. I use common sense logic as to where they are in their life suggesting the dream is about their current situation. My fear of flying (because I am not in control of the plane) is always a recurring dream if I know I have to travel. Thankfully these days I am but a prisoner in my library, my computer is my window to the outside world.
Back to this dream of the stolen underwear it has conjured up many ideas and a future book will start with the following.
Peter Brewick was a self-satisfied man who would spend hours lying on his bed looking at the ceiling. He imaged he could see pictures in the rough plaster above his bed. This Saturday morning was no exception, he was warm under the bed covers and had very little to do that day. On Friday nights he would wash and dry his clothes before neatly putting them away. He never saw himself as an obsessive-compulsive person, his friends did and this was why he had so few of them.
Pushing back the bed covers he sat on the bed and perused his bedroom. The drawer for his underwear was open and he was sure he had closed it the night before when he put his clean perfectly folded white boxer briefs away. The drawer was empty his underwear gone. He took the drawer out and turned it over as thought by magic the underwear was some how stuck to the base.
Picking up his cell phone he called the local police station.
“Burbank Police how can we help?”
“Someone stole my underwear.”
Dreams are what they are so we must use them when we can even if they seem absurd.
This dream as occurred four more times since the first time. My perfectly folded underwear is now kept under lock and key.
