Photography & Stuff by Erin Hanson


My stuff. Their stuff. And nostalgic stuff. This is the blog of Erin Hanson -- Recovering Lazyholic.

all we need is just a little camel

Since I can remember I have always had vivid dreams and for the most part I can recall the key points and images without much trouble, albeit in a rather disjointed pieced together fashion. I am fascinated by my dreams and also often plagued by the nightmare variety. At one point in my life I had one of those silly dream dictionaries (ok, maybe I had a few) trying to find meaning in what my subconscious was trying to tell me. Now I don't know if any of the definitions offered are accurate, but there's something alluring in being able to easily identity what ails/thrills me. Isn't it easier for a book to spell it out rather than to bother confronting my emotions or bother with messy 'ole feelings (some scarcasm implied).

Can a random book really analyze me and my life? Furthermore does a sleepy vision have to mean anything or can it be chalked up to what I ate that day, what was on t.v. when I fell asleep, or simply my brain's way of entertaining me? Well, I hate to say it, but I actually think, at least in my case, that there is something to it. I'm almost jealous of the asleep me, if that even makes sense. I think she is more in touch with my feelings than the awake me and says "f that" when waking me says "it's ok". Work it out... tell me what's up.

Last night... I was in a house and I had a puppy and a camel... a miniature camel (imagine about 10" tall). Then I lost my camel and was freaking out. Later I discovered that under a bench in this one room where I was looking around was a boa constrictor. I was a wreck and tried to tell everyone that there was a giant snake and we needed to figure out how to get rid of it. It seemingly appeared out of nowhere. At some point there was also a giant spider, I believe under the same bench. There was another part of the dream where I was looking for my priest (my priest being my Godfather), but I couldn't remember his name and could only think of a different priest. The final bit I remember is that I was outside in the front yard and there were two severed alligator heads. I walked into the house and saw the snake again. It was moving and looked like it was swallowing something (I concluded my camel). Then it flattened like an old pancake and someone carried it out. The person carrying it explained that it was not a boa constrictor, rather some other kind of snake (which I can't remember, and probably doesn't exist in real life). It's tail was like that of bee's stinger.

And that's that. My subconscious is actually about as transparent as a brand new window pane. Why can't I dream of winning the lottery and driving race cars.
Erin HansonComment