Squawk Radio
Monday, April 10, 2006
SWEET DREAMS!
We all know that Freud made his fortune and his reputation by sitting on a couch and saying, "Sooo, Mrs. Dubinsqueak, please tell me more uff these dreams you are haffing!" And Mrs. Dubinsqueak would detail all her dreams of white mice in feathered hats carrying great, long swords, and Freud would look at her wisely over his glasses and say, "Uff, Mrs. Dubinsqueak, you must remarry!" Or something along those lines.
Well, God forbid that I should ever get myself into a dream analyst's office. Because the shameful truth is that my unconscious is barely even unconscious, it's so ever-present. Seriously! This is a really good dream, which I had just after being nominated for a RITA (time to SHOP for a gorgeous long dress!).
I'm in the department store Neiman Marcus. Among the racks of uber-expensive designer clothes, someone suddenly pushes out a rack from the back -- and everything on it is marked $10.00! It's a mistake, I realize, but before they find out I manage to buy a whole armful of absolutely slatheringly gorgeous clothes.
Want a bad dream?
Last week I was behind on my email. I went to bed. Dreaming, I realized that my email letters -- all of them -- were being projected onto the back wall of a Walmart. Even worse, that wall was being webcammed all over the world! I woke up shaken. The thing is...there's nothing interesting in my email. Complaining grad students, generally celebratory readers, and lots of Squawker email is about it.
Very occasionally, I have terrible dreams about my daughter's health -- but there again, there's nothing mysterious about that, given that she has kidney disease. I'm not dreaming about sick little white mice in feathered hats: it's always my own Anna.
So what about you guys? Sometimes the Squawkers exchange dreams, and I always feel like the only person in the world without a dreaming imagination! What kind of dreams do you have -- and go on, tell us one!
Well, God forbid that I should ever get myself into a dream analyst's office. Because the shameful truth is that my unconscious is barely even unconscious, it's so ever-present. Seriously! This is a really good dream, which I had just after being nominated for a RITA (time to SHOP for a gorgeous long dress!).
I'm in the department store Neiman Marcus. Among the racks of uber-expensive designer clothes, someone suddenly pushes out a rack from the back -- and everything on it is marked $10.00! It's a mistake, I realize, but before they find out I manage to buy a whole armful of absolutely slatheringly gorgeous clothes.
Want a bad dream?
Last week I was behind on my email. I went to bed. Dreaming, I realized that my email letters -- all of them -- were being projected onto the back wall of a Walmart. Even worse, that wall was being webcammed all over the world! I woke up shaken. The thing is...there's nothing interesting in my email. Complaining grad students, generally celebratory readers, and lots of Squawker email is about it.
Very occasionally, I have terrible dreams about my daughter's health -- but there again, there's nothing mysterious about that, given that she has kidney disease. I'm not dreaming about sick little white mice in feathered hats: it's always my own Anna.
So what about you guys? Sometimes the Squawkers exchange dreams, and I always feel like the only person in the world without a dreaming imagination! What kind of dreams do you have -- and go on, tell us one!
Eloisa James, 11:20 AM
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