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Uncomfortable Dreams
Jun. 16th, 2010 06:39 amMany thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparkindarkness for the wonderfully uncomfortable dream I had just before waking. It had a lot of elements that brought to mind a post of his that I read yesterday about privilege and marginalization events experienced by a variety of people.
The dream:
We're in a gas station (the kind with a convenience store) at night. All but one of the pumps is full. My husband pulls into the empty one, but realizes the only trash can is away from the pumps. He drives over there to get rid of his trash, then proceeds to back-up to return to the pump (it makes sense b/c the open pump is on our side of the lot with backing in being the only option for where his gas tank opening is). When he is just about to pull in, he is cut off by this huge, old Ford/Chevy truck that is jacked up slightly - a "mudding" kind of vehicle with faded paint or reminiscent of a well used farmer's vehicle. This truck flies into the spot, while the driver is yelling at my husband for being in the way. The driver of the truck, and his companions that fill it would fit descriptions of Midwestern red-neck and/or farmer.
Somehow, in dream mode, I am outside the car talking to the largest of the passengers. He seems articulate and sensitive and we talk about what a horrible situation it was and he apologized for his friend.
I next found myself walking toward a convenience store and an Indian couple race past me... The man carrying his five-ish son under the armpits, keeping his feet off the ground so he could move faster. The woman following, and seeming to fall further behind with each quick step, while pushing an ungainly stroller toward a sidewalk and maneuvering said stroller, with difficulty, over the 6-8 inch high edge-stone of the sidewalk. As she got the stroller over the edge, her husband had disappeared around the corner of the store. (Why the store had a sidewalk around it I don't know. I think I've been to a couple like that where they use the sidewalk as a parking barrier to the storefront so people can approach on foot as well.)
As the woman is passing me, we are stepping up onto the curb together, I sense the husband's panic and her unease and understand that it is based upon the arrival of the loud & potentially dangerous driver that may or may not be a racist red-neck... Not sure whether I had talked to the woman about it, but knew this was the cause of her unease. I made a comment, where I implied a "those people" type of disparagement of the man/men of the truck... And as she made her getaway she looked behind me and her eyes widened in fear as she picked up speed, approaching the corner.
Uneasy myself, now, I look behind me at the steps that appeared in front of me and, as I swung one of the glass doors open to enter the store I looked behind me. Just getting to the curb was the man I'd talked to with another from the vehicle. Their heads were down and leaning toward each other in conversation. I didn't think they had been close enough to hear my comment to the woman, but I felt my face flush in shame all the same and rushed into the store.
I was in there to get a particular kind of soda (orange flavored seltzer or tonic water), found out somehow that I had to go out in the storage area in the back of the store to get the kind I wanted. Was back there with shelves to either side, unfinished wooden shelves, and, upon being asked, the stock boy hands me this very large and unwieldy flat of six-packs... I'm staggering around down the aisle trying to figure out a way to turn around to get back out to the parking lot when I find myself in that same aisle and place in the stockroom. There, I encounter a young woman and, realizing my plight, helps me break apart the flat; whereupon I say to her that I had just wanted one six-pack after all and move off back to the front of the store.
Bizarre dream. One definitely brought on by my brain trying to process through a combination of things but when I woke I thought to myself that it was probably highly inspired by sparky's post. It isn't his most recent. I had seen it a few days ago and had left it up in a window for later perusal and reading. That man is one smart cookie. If you go looking for it, it's the one where it is described how some people talk about their difficulties with strollers and use this in a conversation as a compared-difficulty when having a conversation with someone in a wheelchair while they are describing their difficulties in wheelchairs.
Please. Feel free to dissect and analyze the dream sequence above. Comment on my internal conflicts and issues. I mean, after all... How often do yo get a chance these days to comment on one of my posts?
sparkindarkness for the wonderfully uncomfortable dream I had just before waking. It had a lot of elements that brought to mind a post of his that I read yesterday about privilege and marginalization events experienced by a variety of people.The dream:
We're in a gas station (the kind with a convenience store) at night. All but one of the pumps is full. My husband pulls into the empty one, but realizes the only trash can is away from the pumps. He drives over there to get rid of his trash, then proceeds to back-up to return to the pump (it makes sense b/c the open pump is on our side of the lot with backing in being the only option for where his gas tank opening is). When he is just about to pull in, he is cut off by this huge, old Ford/Chevy truck that is jacked up slightly - a "mudding" kind of vehicle with faded paint or reminiscent of a well used farmer's vehicle. This truck flies into the spot, while the driver is yelling at my husband for being in the way. The driver of the truck, and his companions that fill it would fit descriptions of Midwestern red-neck and/or farmer.
Somehow, in dream mode, I am outside the car talking to the largest of the passengers. He seems articulate and sensitive and we talk about what a horrible situation it was and he apologized for his friend.
I next found myself walking toward a convenience store and an Indian couple race past me... The man carrying his five-ish son under the armpits, keeping his feet off the ground so he could move faster. The woman following, and seeming to fall further behind with each quick step, while pushing an ungainly stroller toward a sidewalk and maneuvering said stroller, with difficulty, over the 6-8 inch high edge-stone of the sidewalk. As she got the stroller over the edge, her husband had disappeared around the corner of the store. (Why the store had a sidewalk around it I don't know. I think I've been to a couple like that where they use the sidewalk as a parking barrier to the storefront so people can approach on foot as well.)
As the woman is passing me, we are stepping up onto the curb together, I sense the husband's panic and her unease and understand that it is based upon the arrival of the loud & potentially dangerous driver that may or may not be a racist red-neck... Not sure whether I had talked to the woman about it, but knew this was the cause of her unease. I made a comment, where I implied a "those people" type of disparagement of the man/men of the truck... And as she made her getaway she looked behind me and her eyes widened in fear as she picked up speed, approaching the corner.
Uneasy myself, now, I look behind me at the steps that appeared in front of me and, as I swung one of the glass doors open to enter the store I looked behind me. Just getting to the curb was the man I'd talked to with another from the vehicle. Their heads were down and leaning toward each other in conversation. I didn't think they had been close enough to hear my comment to the woman, but I felt my face flush in shame all the same and rushed into the store.
I was in there to get a particular kind of soda (orange flavored seltzer or tonic water), found out somehow that I had to go out in the storage area in the back of the store to get the kind I wanted. Was back there with shelves to either side, unfinished wooden shelves, and, upon being asked, the stock boy hands me this very large and unwieldy flat of six-packs... I'm staggering around down the aisle trying to figure out a way to turn around to get back out to the parking lot when I find myself in that same aisle and place in the stockroom. There, I encounter a young woman and, realizing my plight, helps me break apart the flat; whereupon I say to her that I had just wanted one six-pack after all and move off back to the front of the store.
Bizarre dream. One definitely brought on by my brain trying to process through a combination of things but when I woke I thought to myself that it was probably highly inspired by sparky's post. It isn't his most recent. I had seen it a few days ago and had left it up in a window for later perusal and reading. That man is one smart cookie. If you go looking for it, it's the one where it is described how some people talk about their difficulties with strollers and use this in a conversation as a compared-difficulty when having a conversation with someone in a wheelchair while they are describing their difficulties in wheelchairs.
Please. Feel free to dissect and analyze the dream sequence above. Comment on my internal conflicts and issues. I mean, after all... How often do yo get a chance these days to comment on one of my posts?
