recovery and the dream
Music: The Cure: Pornography (1982)
This weekend I threw my annual Walpurgisnacht/May Day party, which marks its 11th anniversary! I started throwing the party in Minnesota as a graduate student, and Saturday night we realized that not one, not two, but three of the inaugural partiers were in attendance: Me, Brent, and Christopher (we missed you Dave!). As partiers, we have matured quite a bit. There was no spin the bottle or "I Never" drinking games. Instead, there was moderate partying. At least among the 30-somethings. The twenty-somethings were a completely different story, but I hear their shenanigans went on outside such that the DJ was spared. Here is a photo gallery of the night's festivities!
Meanwhile, I had an odd day yesterday, topped off with an odd night. I was a little hung over (although I did try to not overdo it), but managed to get some work done and some papers graded, and did a little Facecrack DJ-ing (inspired by Vitanza's Jass sessions). Almost finished reading a very good prospectus. I then wrote a long letter to a friend---an old "hobby" of mine, but one that felt good, like reflecting in a journal with a readership of two. The day was odd because of a subtle nagging, something more than my cloudy and slow brain trying to think.
I made a Bloody Joshie at nightfall, which helped me to feel better. Then I went to bed early and had a very long, unpleasant dream. I don't know if you would call it a "nightmare," as it was not horrifying: it was just unpleasant and, as I type this reflecting, it still nags at me because I'm just not sure what it is "really about." I do believe there is some truth to the psychoanalytic perspective that I cannot access the "dream thoughts" by myself, so I'll share.
The dream was about identity theft. As the day progresses the "plot" gets murky as whatever unconscious anxiety was surfacing sinks back into unknowingness. I should have written down what I remembered from the dream this morning. Nevertheless, the dream involves someone taking over/control of my server and URL identities. Facebook profile too. My blog now features pornography, and all my other pages have been replaced with quasi-commercial content involving body parts and tiny text that is hard to read. I am horrified, feel totally helpless about all of this; some of the material posted is private things about me.
I decide to try and frighten the thief. In the dreamworld I have a number of friends who code for a living, and who will know how to help me. Until I can get in touch with them, I send a threatening email to the imposter webmaster saying that I will send him a virus unless he returns my website to me. No response.
On a different day, I am walking in a gravel parking lot and away from my vehicle either toward some festival I am attending or to work (I cannot remember) and this snot-nosed teenager taps me on the shoulder. He sort of looks like Eddie from The Munsters, but older—about maybe 16. In a snide voice he makes a comment to me that is at first nonsensical, but that I quickly realize is an indirect reference to my pirated web pages. He indicates, indirectly, that he can easily destroy my life. I wake up.
Ok, so, I have been having some bad dreams for the past few weeks. One of them my therapist help me to figure out as a reference to the tenure process. In part, this dream is probably part of a composite of anxiety including worries about tenure. The horror of the dream is basically not having "control," and I am at a point in the promotion process that is, well, out of my control.
But obviously there is more to it.