Thursday, 12 July 2007

Cake dream

Dreams are brilliant. I had a dream last night. You know how weird and funny they can be.

In this one, I was in some old, walled Italian city. Beautiful place, all narrow streets, squares and porticos (whatever they are - it sounds Italian so I'll leave it in). Actually I don't know why it was Italian, it just was.

The thing about it was, the place was under siege. By whom, I don't know. But there was chaos, panic and unrest throughout, as old stone blocks fell from the sides of buildings and fire seemed to reign down from the sky (the impression I got was that the fire was a bombardment of missiles of some sort - but it was aflame anyway).

Amidst all this, I was in a place which seemed like some kind of hostel or commune or something. There was a huge communal kitchen with a few side rooms almost like dorms and offices (the implication seemed to be that I worked in this kitchen along with someone else). The tension in here was palpable too.

There was a sense of day and night passing and things getting more intense, everyone in motion, hurrying around as things appeared to be getting more desperate outside.

Then, in this hostel/commune kitchen area, someone took me to one side. A mysterious hooded figure, ill-defined, but like an odd cross between the sandman and a sinister bond villain. He told me I had one sure-fire way of getting out. He told me to be very careful, and not to let anyone else in on this, except one other person who already knew, and who would be escaping with me.

I had to lean forward as he whispered to me my instructions. It was important I didn't miss a detail, I thought. His voice sounded ancient and full of gravitas (or gravel).

"You will be aware....that there are two trays full of cakes in the cupboard down there."


"You will take these cakes with you - but do not let anyone else see them. These are your key to escape."


"SsssssSSSSHHHHHHHHHH! Look! Everyone else is looking for them! If you tell anyone, your chance is lost!"

I lowered my voice.

So, I was to just take the cakes and go?

"Yes. With her -" he pointed to the woman who worked alongside me in the kitchen " - but don't let anyone see you with the cakes!"

Guess what? He was right. I didn't know how, but they really were our escape ticket. We got the cakes, all two trays of them. We sidled our way through the chaos both within and without the building, and out of the increasingly hellish spectacle of the walled city, taking strength and courage from each other (and the cakes, presumably) as we went.


My lazy attempts at analysis so far make me think that the city and the pandemonium within it, represent the often dispiriting chaos that is my work. Perhaps the woman I escape with, represents the fact that I need some help from someone to effectively change my situation. Maybe the sandman/Bond villain represents my subconscious, or conscience (oh dear, is that what it looks like?), trying to guide me along. Maybe, maybe not, but that all makes some kind of sense so far.

But the cake? Any ideas?


Merkin said...
You may find this interesting if you haven't seen it before.
Dream On.

Dreamcatcher said...

Mushrooms, anyone?

lavenderblue said...

It feels like Anticant could be at the bottom of this.......

anticant said...

You're so right, as always, Lavender! I'd love Trousers to do some Gestalt work on this dream. Get back into it, and imagine you are one [or more] of the components of the dream. Relive it in the present tense, and see what thoughts/images come up for you.

For instance, you could choose to be the mysterious hooded figure: maybe a dialogue between you and Trousers will emerge. Or you could be an old stone block falling from a building. Or try being the cakes. How does it feel knowing you are small and insignificant, but yet are the passport to freedom for these two? Then switch and be the other woman in the kitchen. Oh - all sorts of intriguing possibilties here!

Have a go, and report back.

trousers said...

Wow...assuming Gestalt work remains effective after one has had a libation, I will indeed report back. I presume, anticant, that beer has never been allowed in a clinical therapeutic environment...

Oh, and thanks for the link Merk, I've bookmarked it. I have had lucid dreams verrry occasionally, but seemingly at random rather than through any effort of mine.

Lav, you appear to have been proven right :)

trousers said...

I'm finding it difficult to get back into the dream and relive it. Maybe because of a couple of beers, maybe because I've spent most of the evening thinking and writing about something entirely different. Likely, a combination of both.

But, from just thinking about the various facets of the dream, I can see myself reflected in all the different aspects of it, particularly the ones you mention.

The cakes, therefore, seem to represent my surprising (to me) ability to occasionally come up tops in the face of adversity. That's why they are cakes in the dream - because they're not the obvious key to success, and are not the first thing I would exactly look to for a solution. But they're there nonetheless, just like the resources I have which I'm perhaps overlooking in my current circumstances.

That's good enough for me now, but I feel like I should come back to this at a suitable point.

Thanks anti!

Pixie said...

Now I could do some clever thing with dream analysis, if I could. But I think that's been well covered by anticant.

SOOO instead the burning question I have, is what sort of cakes? because the implications of choclate say versus fruit could be very deep and meaningful.

Or a complete load of bollocks on my part.Especially when you are making some serious points here.

But I could send you a virtual hug to make up for my crassness.

trousers said...

Oh I wouldn't call it crassness, pixie. I hadn't intended this to end up quite so deep and meaningful (not that I'm complaining) so a bit of lightheartedness is no problem either.

There were two different types of chocolate cake. I couldn't precisely tell you what types they were, but they were chocolate cake beyond doubt :)

zola a social thing said...

OK the publisher has agreed. It will be printed and you will get paid ( rather well)
But the title of the book is not up for negotiation. It must be :-
" Letters To MY SON Kafka as read by the Son of Kafka".

barefoot freudian said...

Do you have a King Alfred complex?