Dream Interpretation

My Christian Prayer group meets on zoom, nowadays.  My friend, Albert is on it, too.  Albert is 90 years old and deaf as a haddock.  I try to help him as much as I can. He has trouble hearing and following the conversation and instructions.  If he does hear it, he doesn’t understand it.  It takes time for his mind to process the information—at least that’s how I see it.  I am very sympathetic towards him because I have a feeling that I will be in his condition, someday, and I hope people will be kind to me.

Last week, the night after our zoom meeting, I had a dream about Albert—a nightmare, actually. Albert accidentally locked me in a closet.  He was oblivious that he shut the door on me and the door was locked.  He didn’t hear me call.  He didn’t hear me bang.  No one did.

That’s it. That’s the dream that woke me up.  It really bothered me. 

I didn’t have to have psychoanalysis to figure out that I felt trapped by Albert.  I admit that when he’s not at a meeting I feel happy.  Do I feel stuck? I shouldn’t because when I don’t have time or the patience on certain days, I tell that to Albert and he accepts it. 

But still.

It continued to bother me for a few days.  So much so that I just had to get out of that closet.  Now this closet was not a walk-in-closet like you have in your bedroom.  It was a closet that classrooms have.  It was full of shelves.  I barely had room to turn around.  I started looking for something to smash through the door.  There were mostly reams of paper and some boxes.  I saw a couple of glass vases that were pretty heavy and solid.  But then I saw a statue of liberty.  It was about a foot high and made of metal.  That was my best choice.  How ironic would that be if I gained my freedom from a statue of liberty!

So I banged on the door.  No one came, but I noticed that the center of the door seemed weak.  So I banged and banged, concentrating on the center.  I banged until I smashed through.  It was a small hole but big enough to slip my hand through.

And my arm followed my hand through the hole and down to the door knob.  I was looking for that little knob mechanism that turned the lock.   It wasn’t there; instead this side of the knob had the key hold, which meant that the locking mechanism was on the inside of the door—my side.  All this time, all I had to do was unlock the door from the inside, myself.

I’m an idiot.  I have the solution to my problems, within my self.  All I have to do is open the door.  

My astronomy club meets on zoom, nowadays.  My friend, Albert is on it, too.  Albert is 90 years old and deaf as a haddock.  I try to help him as much as I can. He has trouble hearing and following the conversation and instructions.  If he does hear it, he doesn’t understand it.  It takes time for his mind to process the information—at least that’s how I see it.  I am very sympathetic towards him because I have a feeling that I will be in his condition, some day, and I hope people will be kind to me.

Last week, the night after our zoom meeting, I had a dream about Albert—a nightmare, actually. Albert accidentally locked me in a closet.  He was oblivious that he shut the door on me and the door was locked.  He didn’t hear me call.  He didn’t hear me bang.  No one did.

That’s it. That’s the dream that woke me up.  It really bothered me. 

I didn’t have to have psychoanalysis to figure out that I felt trapped by Albert.  I admit that when he’s not at a meeting I feel happy.  Do I feel stuck? I shouldn’t because when I don’t have time or the patience on certain days, I tell that to Albert and he accepts it. 

But still.

It continued to bother me for a few days.  So much so that I just had to get out of that closet.  Now this closet was not a walk-in-closet like you have in your bedroom.  It was a closet that classrooms have.  It was full of shelves.  I barely had room to turn around.  I started looking for something to smash through the door.  There were mostly reams of paper and some boxes.  I saw a couple of glass vases that were pretty heavy and solid.  But then I saw a statue of liberty.  It was about a foot high and made of metal.  That was my best choice.  How ironic would that be if I gained my freedom from a statue of liberty!

So I banged on the door.  No one came, but I noticed that the center of the door seemed weak.  So I banged and banged, concentrating on the center.  I banged until I smashed through.  It was a small hole but big enough to slip my hand through.

And my arm followed my hand through the hole and down to the door knob.  I was looking for that little knob mechanism that turned the lock.   It wasn’t there; instead this side of the knob had the key hold, which meant that the locking mechanism was on the inside of the door—my side.  All this time, all I had to do was unlock the door from the inside, myself.

I’m an idiot.  I have the solution to my problems, within my self.  All I have to do is open the door.