Unfortunately – or should I rather consider it fortunate? – I remember my dreams nearly every day. I always have.
Like last night? I was back in Graz, meeting my great-uncle twice removed – or is it cousin twice removed? My father’s cousin, anyway. Well I was meeting Wolfi and moving from one classic play he directs and acts in to another.
Very often I dream of those who are not here anymore. My parents, my grandparents, aunts and uncles. And thankfully, most of the time they represent themselves in their healthy forms to me. And I treasure those dreams. Being able to talk to my Dad, my Mum, Aunt Do … it’s at least a little consolation.
Sometimes, the things that still occupy my mind subconsciously, find their way into my dreams. I still dream of my grandfather’s house and his evil second wife and even more evil son, who blinded us all, nearly taking everything from my father’s, uncle’s and aunt’s past, childhood, memories, inheritance after his death. I dream of confronting those two, asking them WHY. Again, and again. It’s a recurring theme and if I were Freud, I would tell myself that I still haven’t gotten over it, even after 20 years. And it’s also a topic coming up regularly when I’m talking to my cousin on the phone. It still hurts us. It especially hurts us because it had hurt our fathers so much, even though they didn’t show their pain of being betrayed in that way.
Occasionally, I even dream of being back at school or at university. And even though I know in my dreams I already have my degree I dream of having to take another exam and another and another …
Or tutoring again. Like very recently, when I was back in tutoring hell, having agreed to do a two-week holiday course for a few students, four hours every morning, then correcting homework, preparing exercise sheets for the next day … and being so annoyed with myself that I agreed to do this, sacrificing my vacation. As grateful as I was during my university years to have a job and earn some money, I was very close to a really bad burn-out situation. So bad that it’s still following me in my dreams years later.
These past months many of my dreams took place in Austria. Yep, once again Freud would have a field trip with me … and I don’t need his analysis to know why I’m constantly dreaming of home! It’s constantly on my mind, so it’s not surprising, Austria, my family and friends – dead and alive – are following me into my dreams.
Mostly, I enjoy it. To remember my dreams, because mostly, they are nice dreams and it’s a treasure to be able to remember them. Most people don’t, I guess. And it’s especially lovely to at least talk to my dead loved ones in my dreams. Hearing their voices, seeing them move around without pain. And that compensates for the less pleasant dreams any time!