Of things that come out in the night

It didn’t hurt: the tiny metal stub poking out of the flesh between thumb and index finger.

Traced over it, and it grew longer, stretching out of the flesh like a seedling.  Took the longer tip and pulled gently, watching, fascinated, as two-thirds of a sewing needle slid out.  Top end blunt, point snapped off.

The needle’s eye gave a tug against my skin.

Put the broken needle on the black stone of the kitchen bench, turned my right hand so the palm was facing up and looked across the horizon of my lifeline.  There was late afternoon sunlight. Glow across the palm, light and shadow.

There. At the base of my index finger. Two more tiny metal stubs poking through.

Pulled them out, faster now.  One was a bright piece of straight needle, the second was curled and slightly pocked – more like old fuse wire.  Put them on the bench next to the first needle.

Something new.  Glass.  A short line of glass protruding from the side of my hand, below and parallel to the index finger and before the curve of flesh up to my thumb.

Clear glass and very fine.  Expensive looking.  Reidel.

Still no pain.

Lifted the glass and the palm opened in a long, dark slit.  More glass inside, different colours like broken bottles.  Longer sticks poking up now: timber?  Like thick chopsticks. Pulled them out, some longer than my hand.

Look at this - said to the husband, who’d appeared in the kitchen just then.

It’s all coming out of my hand.  

He peered into the slit.  Does it hurt?

No, but the more I take out, the more there is in there.

And pointed at the kitchen bench, to the pile of glass and debris as big as a loaf of bread.

The dog was asleep further along the kitchen’s counter.  This was odd.  She’s rarely allowed indoors, let alone on any furniture.  Let alone on the kitchen bench.

Still, the poor old thing looked very comfortable, I hadn’t the heart to move her.

There’s no end to this, to the husband, what should I do?

Doctor.  Decisive.  You’ve got to see a doctor to get the rest out.

It hadn’t occurred to me that any medical help was needed.  No pain, no blood, no harm… but maybe a doctor would be a good idea.  The glass, in particular, seemed to be endlessly replenishing itself and I gave up trying to get more out.

Went to the next room for the camera, thinking this would make a wonderful picture for the blog.

Got back to find husband closing the lid of the bin and the pile of hand glass, timber and metal was gone.

What have you done? 

Got rid of it, of course.

But I wanted to take a picture.

Well you didn’t tell me, and now it’s gone.  I had to clean up, didn’t I?

I half woke then, still cross at missing the photo.  Fretting, the way you do with a dream still moving through your mind.  While I knew my hand was fine I’d never be able to prove it had happened without the photo.

A few seconds later I knew it properly for a dream.  I went back to sleep.

Waking an hour or so later, with the radio alarm, the dream troubling me still.  Said to the Prof: what could it mean?

I have no idea, he said.

Thinking aloud, I wondered if it was a good dream: getting rid of sharp things that had cut and hurt me inside. 

Hmmm, he said, but you still found a reason to be cranky at me, didn’t you?

I can’t let go of this dream.  I had to write it down.  I haven’t been aware of a big dream in months and I feel there was a purpose for this one.

I think it was about removing hurt.  I think it was about how simply one can start to take away the deep buried hurt.  Just pull it out of your right hand and lay it on the breadboard.

I think it was right for dream-Prof to tip all that sharpness in the rubbish, although my wish for a record obviously continues well past that first waking.  I think the old dog sleeping up on the bench must mean something too.  I thought I had it, yesterday, but the idea has drifted off now.

Peace, maybe.  Rest. Comfort.  And there was something in the way the body of the black dog merged with the black stone counter that meant something too.  But I don’t know what.

The scene is obvious: the kitchen, the heart of my home.  Place of making and disposing, nurture and dispatch.

I think too, of the endless quantities of broken glass inside my dream-hand.    Layer after layer of sharp edges, fragile surfaces.  Brown, green, clear, all kinds.

As much as I could remove, there was always more there. And that’s life.

mtc

Bec

 

Comments

[Shula]

It was a good dream.

Really good.

x

[Stomper Girl]

I really want to be flippant and suggest your hand had pins and needles, but I won't.

It's a bit Pandora's box, isn't it, the way once you start more and more stuff comes out? Very interesting that the Prof would clean up the debris while you wanted to study it and blog it .... I think my relation with Fixit works along those lines!!

[sueeeus]

What an amazing dream. I'm glad you wrote it out. I often wonder about dream analysis too. Last night I dreamt that my babies (a girl! and my beautiful boy) were taken from me. By my mother (I think). I think I was much younger, maybe a teenager even. It was so vivid and so heart-wrenching and I was so helpless for God-knows why. I was fighting for them but I couldn't get them back, and woke up sobbing. I'm too afraid to give it any more thought!

I hope you find some peaceful meaning for your dream. You were so CALM, the way you took it all in! That must mean something too.

[Hyena In Petticoats]

There's a poem over here that seems serendipitous to your dream....

http://comfies.blogspot.com/

Feels like a good dream to me - better out than in, right?

xxxxxxxxxxx

[sueeeus]

Typepad must have eaten my comment. I dreamt last night that my babies (my girl! and my boy) were taken from me, and it was so vivid that it woke me up crying and shaken. I was too afraid to even think about what it could mean.

I hope you find a peaceful meaning for you dream. I think it's quite something that you were so CALM through it all. That must mean something too!

[Hyena In Petticoats]

I found a poem today that seems serendipitous to your dream:

http://comfies.blogspot.com/

Feels like a good dream to me; better out than in.....

xxxxxx

[mary]

And you dreamt this soon after your Dad's visit?

Or not?

[meggie]

I have many terrifying dreams that remain with me, throughout the next days.
Pain from the centre of you being? Prof helping to get rid of it?
An interesting post to ponder.

[Stacey]

A strange dream like that has got to mean something. Dreaming is such an interesting topic, I think.
I have a recurring theme in my dreams and I dream along this one theme about once a week.
My husband and eldest son both sleepwalk and yell and scream in their sleep. Very disturbing.

[sueeeus]

I was going to say something about the specifics of broken Reidel. Expensive glass! And you weren't at all freaked out or dismayed by that.

[joke]

I'm with Mary on this. The whole time as I read this entry, I kept screaming in my head "It's your DAD, you maniac!"

-J.

[Judi]

All that debris coming out of your hand without pain???
That's gotta be good..
I'm with Joke ..your Dad's recent visit is more than coincedental..
I like Prof's take..

[Judi]

my verification word just then was sssh !

[Bec and Call]

I hate to disappoint all you clever-clogs Freuds (and to expose myself for delayed blogging) but this dream actually happened months ago - just before my chronic busy season began, hence the delay in blogging.

I also just wasn't ready to post it without a decent period of mulling. Consider it mulled.

So. There.

Mind you, just because it's old doesn't mean it's not about my dad - because, y'know, he's been around a while and nothing ever changes.

[joke]

It's about your dad. Ask me to explain it to you with crayon, and I will.

-J.

[My Float]

Ack, I wish I had something amusing to say but it's all too serious and earnest and isn't worth a pot of poo.

Suffice to say that your Prof and your black dog (I can hazard a guess about who this is) protect and look after you. The Prof especially gets rid of the rubbish. (Funny comment of his, too, by the way.)

A big hug.

[msaims]

this is a great way to analyse dreams.

1.write out the dream.(done!)

2.divide the dream in to 3 chapters.
-past, present, future.
for eg..
chapter one.discovering debris (past)

chapter two.confering with husband (present)the time when you had the dream.

chapter three.husband removing debris(future) this could have already happened seeing it was an old dream.

3.list every key word in the first chapter in order.

hurt
hand
metal
flesh
seedling
sewing needle
broken needle
palm facing up
lifeline
afternoon sunlight
straight needle
curled needle
fusewire
expensive glass
broken bottles
timber
chopsticks
debris

4.now write the first thing that pops in to your mind when you think of each word.

if hurt just means hurt to you write hurt.
(it would refer to a past hurt.)
if hurt means sadness write sadness.

i asked three people what a sewing needle means to them. one said 'hard work', one said 'relaxation'. one said 'repair'. (this why i kinda don't like dream dictionaries.)

these key words should start to give you an idea about what this dream was about.

5.do the same for the 2nd and 3rd chapters.

i had this full on dream about roller-skating in an underground carpark once.
i was flumoxed. i did this process and it all made sense.
amy.

[MsCellania]

YIPES!
If you ever do analyze this puppy, please post the results.

[ali g]

Dreamt the other night that my first wife was back...scared me so much had to stay up the rest of the night watching the SBS weather map on the bedroom TV till dawn with no sound in case the boss woke up and I had to explain why I wasn't asleep...scary scary scary phew!

[sheoflittlebrain]

I was told once that all the people in your dreams usually represent facets of yourself. For instance, the Professor might represent a part of you that wants to be rid of all that sharp edged stuff for once and for all..while another part of you wants to hang on to it a bit, examine it..and maybe another part(even the dog representing some part of yourself) just wants to sink into oblivion...just forget it altogether.

Be that as it may...I really wanted to comment on your equisite writing in this presentation of your dream..like reading poetry:)

[joke]

Oh, you laughed when I said "quarterly" didn't you?

-J.

[paula]

Always. The most unusual dreams stick with me and leave me feeling disjointed and slightly confused. I just put them in the back of my mind and go on. Sometimes they start to make sense and sometimes they just fade away...

[crafty]

I loved the way you have written this. Just as in your dream, it takes a few moments to realise you are describing a dream rather than a reality. Just like waking up.