News & Features Feedback
New This WeekAround TownMusicFilmArtTheaterNews & FeaturesFood & DrinkAstrology
  HOME
NEW THIS WEEK
EDITORS' PICKS
LISTINGS
NEWS & FEATURES
MUSIC
FILM
ART
BOOKS
THEATER
DANCE
TELEVISION
FOOD & DRINK
ARCHIVES
LETTERS
PERSONALS
CLASSIFIEDS
ADULT
ASTROLOGY
PHOENIX FORUM DOWNLOAD MP3s

  E-Mail This Article to a Friend
Only a dream
Should you apologize for something you did in a nightmare?
BY KRIS FRIESWICK

My friend John and his wife have a beautiful new son, Will, who is the center of their world. Young Will is also causing them major sleep deprivation. This means that when they do finally get some shuteye, their dreams resemble episodes of The Twilight Zone directed by Salvador Dali.

John told me about one of these recent dreams. In it, he and his wife have two children: Will, and a perfect clone of Will. Then, in a horrible circular-saw accident, John cuts off the arm of the real Will. This presents a dilemma. Should he throw away the damaged, original Will, and keep the perfect, but cloned, Will? Or hang on to them both and deal with a one-armed kid? As if this dream dilemma weren’t bad enough, John went and complicated things further by recounting it to his wife. "You cut off Will’s arm with a circular saw?!" she asked in horror — and, John claimed, some genuine anger. How, her sleepy face seemed to accuse, could you possibly be so irresponsible?

Except, as I’ve mentioned, this was a dream.

As illogical as it is to get angry at someone for something he or she did in a dream, I stand ready to admit that I, too, am guilty. I have given the silent treatment to at least one boyfriend for unacceptable behavior committed in his own dreams, which he made the mistake of describing to me, and/or for something he did in my dreams. Why would I, a supposedly intelligent woman, respond so angrily to acts that someone did not actually commit?

It’s simple, really. Let’s say my boyfriend told me he dreamt about having carnal relations with all the contestants of the Miss Mud Wrestler pageant simultaneously. I’d respond angrily because a) he shouldn’t be dreaming about having carnal relations with anyone but me, and b) if he did it in his dreams, it’s obviously just a matter of time before I start finding muddy underpants in the hamper. When you think about it this way, you can understand why John’s wife might start keeping an extra-careful eye on the kid when John starts a new home-improvement project.

But how to explain the second class of dream-related battle: when you yourself have a dream about your lover doing something bad? This dream originated in your own subconscious, and your sweetheart has no involvement whatsoever in the little midnight movie running in your head. But when you wake up, you’ve already got blood in your eyes. And your lover is understandably confused.

How do we justify our righteous indignation under these circumstances? Let’s look at another example: you have had a dream about your lover leaving you to defend yourself against a pack of wild, rabid dogs that have somehow made their way into your Lamborghini convertible as you speed down a highway in the mountains of Italy. Yup, he just up and left you, although it’s unclear how he got out of a car going 85 mph. But that’s not the issue. The issue is abandonment, selfishness, and the fact that he is obviously not committed to the relationship. When you wake up, you are pissed, and that’s because although he did not actually leave you to a pack of wild dogs, the dream has made you realize that that’s exactly the sort of thing he would do if you were to find yourselves in this situation. It’s as if the dream has given you insight into the true nature of this person sleeping next to you. And when you look over at him sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the pain he’s put you through, all you want to do is punch him in the face.

(I should mention that this situation usually occurs at times when you wanted to punch your lover in the face before you even went to bed.)

What lessons, then, have we learned from John’s experience? First: never, ever tell your lover your dreams. If he asks, make something up, and make sure that in your revision, you’ve done something heroic or tremendously romantic for your sweetheart, and be certain there is never anyone else in the dream but him (or her, and she is thin and wearing Roberto Cavalli).

If your lover has had a dream in which you are a philandering, lying, leave-your-lover-to-the-wild-dogs cad, then you must follow these steps, or risk the termination of your relationship. First, with absolute sincerity, say: "My God, [lover’s name here]! I would never do anything like that. I can’t believe you could even imagine a scenario where I would [offending dream-act here]. You know, it’s funny, I was just having a dream in which we were making love under a flowering apple tree by a babbling brook." Then make mad, passionate love to your sweetheart, cradle him lovingly in your arms until he falls asleep again, and hope he forgets about the whole thing when he wakes up.

But don’t count on that working. Depending on the dream, it can take several days’ worth of uncharacteristically excellent behavior to wipe out the memory of even one serious REM transgression. If your lover is still pissed after a week, there’s only one thing you can do: launch a dream counterattack. Wake up one morning all upset and say, "Honey, I just had the most horrible dream. I dreamt I dumped you because you got mad at me for a week for something I didn’t even do …"

Kris Frieswick can be reached at k.frieswick@verizon.net

Issue Date: December 19 - 26, 2002
Back to the News & Features table of contents.
  E-Mail This Article to a Friend

home | feedback | about the phoenix | find the phoenix | advertising info | privacy policy | the masthead | work for us

 © 2002 Phoenix Media Communications Group