CAMPBELL: Riding the waves of eccentric dreams

All right, all you Freudian wannabes out there: I need a dream analysis.

For three nights in a row now, I have had dreams about rainstorms, floods or hurricanes. And I need to know what they mean.

I have always been a vivid dreamer. I remember my dreams long after I wake up, and they have complex plots and characters. The scenery is crystal clear. And the dreams can be really weird. Someone once told me I should go in to film production because I have such a vivid visual imagination.

My dreams this week have been particularly freaky. Perhaps I’ve read one too many Sandy-related news stories, or perhaps the stress of this semester is finally catching up with me, but I would really like to get to the bottom of these subconscious aquatic adventures.

Three nights ago, as Hurricane Carlie (it didn’t actually have a name in my dream) approached, I sat in a modified version of my grandparents’ living room, with all the lights turned off, looking outside at the gathering storm clouds. When the storm finally hit, I had somehow been transported to the top of the Seattle Space Needle, and I had a baby (presumably mine) with me.

Two nights ago, I was enjoying a nice, relaxing game of basketball with some friends in the mountains by my Dr. Suess-esque house. There are so many things strange about this: I don’t live anywhere near mountains. I don’t play basketball (well, I did, once, and my teammates spent the whole time going, “Carlie, you can’t do that” or, “Our basket is the other way”). And last time I checked, the house I grew up in looked nothing like Cindy Lou Who’s family home. Local law enforcement approached us and told us to get to higher ground because a storm was a-comin’ and it was expected to flood. I spent the next however-many-minutes (what do you call dream time?) rowing around the mountains that had now become a lake, rescuing people from tiny cabins now almost fully submerged in water, a la “Beasts of the Southern Wild.”

The final dream began in a grocery store and ended in a gondola outside of a train station, where I ran into a bunch of teachers and students from my high school. We proceeded to have an impromptu swimming relay race. Totally normal.

So I looked up what these dreams might mean. What I discovered is that the Internet is full of amazing things and so much information, but probably not the answer to my waterlogged encounters with the Sandman.