I think I may be slipping into the Middle Ages style of sleeping where I sleep for about four hours or so, then wake up for a few hours in the middle of the night, then take another short nap. Saturday night/Sunday morning was like this. I drifted off on the couch pretty early and then went to bed around 7:30pm. By 1am, I was up and ready to think all the thoughts.
I had been having a dream about being in some kind of contest where you had to conquer your fears. It was one of those mishmash, jumbled up dreams, but I had to get up to the top of a building and retrieve a shirt that would fit me. I realized there was a way to get to where I needed to go without having to do the dangerous part of the stunt, so I opted for the easier way out.
Heights sometimes mess with my head. I’m not sure why. I’ve been to the top of the Sears Tower (or whatever it is called now) and the Empire State Building and I was fine each time. Looking out a plane window does not freak me out at all, but certain heights fuck with me. This dream stunt seemed like something I should avoid.
On my way up to the spot where the shirt was, I ran into my brother Mike’s mom, Karen. She gave me the same look she used to give me when we were kids and she knew we were up to no good. It was kind yet disapproving at the same time. I have no idea why she was there, looking out a window on the third floor of the building in my dream, but there she was. She sort of nodded to the right door I needed to go through and when I went back, she was gone.
I love it when I get a visit from someone I loved who has since died in a dream. It doesn’t happen very often, but it always seems to be a nice surprise. The only times it is unpleasant is when I really want to talk to them but can’t. There have been a few of those that have been memorable. I wonder if everyone has these types of dreams.
So, I am laying there around 2am on Sunday and I was thinking about different dreams I have had over the years. As I mentioned several months ago, I have serial dreams. Most of these are not pleasant and knock-on wood, I haven’t had one of these for a long time. But there I was, laying in the dark next to my lightly snoring wife and one of them popped into my head.
It’s weird how the brain decides to bring stuff to the forefront every once in a while. I hadn’t thought about this particular set of dreams for a long time. The gist of the dream, or dreams, really, because I had them off and on for a decade or so, is based around the top floor of a fancy hotel in a big city with a bustling downtown like San Francisco or Chicago.
The top floor is where I would often have a room and the room was filled with very bad feelings. Scary stuff, you know, that triggered intense feelings of dread and despair. Sometimes there would be scary things to see, but looking back, it seemed like much of the dream would involve being in some sort of state of having to go to the room or leave the room.
As I laid there in the dark, I thought about the elevator that would take me up to the room. It was a pretty regular elevator and probably based on one that I used to ride a lot in my youth with a dark brown interior. I can’t quite put my finger on the elevator it actually is, but it is always so familiar.
Funny that I wrote “is” in that last sentence. I feel as if I will be checking back into that hotel at some point in the future. I wonder if I will be using the side entrance, as usual, where the door is obscured a bit by these large block columns that are slightly off white. There are steps that go up to the door from the sidewalk and, in my dream, I would often sit here and try and sort out what was going on in the scary room.
Sometimes I would go down to the lobby of the hotel and try to switch rooms, but the feeling of dread and scary sadness would just follow me to the other rooms on the top floor where I would always be. On other nights, I would dream about going about my business in the busy city and having to come back to the “room.” Over time, I started to challenge the feeling of dread and fear and do my best to not let the room win. That’s what it felt like, I think, that the room was trying to win or defeat me or control me.
I’m sure a dream expert could tell me what this all means, but to be honest, I really don’t care. It’s more interesting to me that I have these dreams that come back again and again sometimes. What does that say about my brain, I wonder. What is it about that “room” that fascinates me and compelled me to either run from it or face it.
When I would get off the elevator or, if I decided to climb the stairs (which I am just remembering was another option, at times, because the elevator was occasionally kind of evil and scary), there was another small set of stairs to climb to get to the room. It would often feel like bad Deja vu in the dream, too, that I was faced with climbing the last two small flights.
Was this to steel my nerves? Was this just one more piece of however I was punishing myself? I don’t know.
See you tomorrow.
AI created this on an app that Jeff showed me a few months ago. Lots of fun to be had putting in weird commands like "Evil hotel room" and seeing what it comes up with for you.