Dreams: Prognostication or Trash?

My family likes to interpret dreams. I can’t remember when it started—whether my sister Amy or my Mom had the first dream interpretation journal. But for the past several years, I’ve been informed that falling is bad, flying is excellent, and trips could go either way.

When my then-boyfriend (now husband) Keith told my mom he’d had a dream about his teeth falling out, she giggled and informed him that it could mean he was worried about losing control … or impotence. Luckily, I was not there to witness this conversation.

So last night, I had a dream. And, after years of being told about my sister’s and mother’s dreams and interpretations, I usually remember my dreams. At least the most vivid fragments. And my dream last night revolved around someone singing “Humpin’ Around” by Bobby Brown.

Why?

I refuse to believe that this could possibly mean anything. I prefer to think that it’s my brain finding completely useless and annoying bits of information and rejecting it. Clearing out the synapses so I can find the cure for cancer or write the next great American novel.

And yet, the conundrum is, now that I dreamt about it, I keep thinking about the song. And singing it to myself. (I would like to note, however, that I only remember about three words.) And trying to find meaning in it. Who is or is not “humping around”? And isn’t that an awful term for something that most people find quite pleasant? It’s now firmly embedded in my brain.

Perhaps people who interpret dreams are actually defeating the whole purpose of dreams, which is to rid the brain of the flotsam and jetsam of modern life that cannot be avoided. Maybe trying to interpret dreams actually makes us less able to be creative and innovative because we cling to ideas/memory fragments that cloud our thinking process.

My sister once had a recurring dream over a course of seven months that focused on water. The ocean. Lots and lots of water imagery. She wracked her brain to figure out what it could possibly mean—what she should be doing differently in her life, or if she needed to reconcile some past event.

And then, one night, she woke up during the dream and realized her cat had jumped on her bladder. Case solved.

If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go download “Humpin’ Around” from iTunes. Maybe if I insist on singing it, I can at least sing more than three words.