Analyze This!

The following is a quick glimpse into my psyche. A few nights ago, I had a very vivid dream. This is not so unusual for me. My husband, Dan, thinks I'm a little mentally unbalanced in the way I work out my anxieties through my dreams. I think Dan is a little mentally unbalanced in his claims that he does not dream. You, faithful readers, can judge for yourselves if I am as crazy as my husband believes.

Anxiety #1: Getting My Ears Cleaned Out

Real life situation: Lately, I have been hearing a constant ocean roaring in my ears. My ears plug up over night, and it sometimes affects my hearing throughout the day. The doctor told me my ears are plugged with wax, and in a few weeks, I have an appointment with an ENT to get my ears cleaned out. Yuck!

Dream situation: I went to a supposed ENT, but it turned out to be some woman who didn't even seem to be a doctor at all. She didn't look in my ears. She didn't even have an office. Instead she sat me down on a sofa with a panel of other women who discussed my situation (think The View meets Dr. Oz). I spent a few hours waiting for the panel to diagnose me, and when no conclusion was reached, I magically found myself standing in front of a lighthouse with Dan.

Anxiety #2: Extreme Fear of Heights

Real life situation: I am deathly afraid of heights.

Dream situation: According to Dan, who is more bizarre in my dreams than in reality, the only way to get to the top of this lighthouse was to parkour. I was in the middle of parkouring when I remembered my fear of heights, and I froze. Somehow I shimmied into one of the windows of the lighthouse, and Dan and I started exploring. The lighthouse looked more like a mini apartment with a kitchenette, living room, and recreation hall. That's when we realized we could get arrested for breaking and entering. Dan tried to convince me to parkour back down the side of the lighthouse, but I insisted there must be an easier way down if this was someone's living space. We spied an escalator outside one of the windows.

Anxiety #3: You Decide . . . 

But then we heard car doors slamming below us. Well-dressed women and men started filtering in to the lighthouse. We seemed to be crashing some sort of societal function.

"They look kind of familiar," Dan whispered to me.

"Wait! I know what it is!" I exclaimed. "They're all Republicans!"

"Isn't that your dad?" Dan asked, pointing to my father who was seated on a leather couch, carrying on a conversation with a group of Idaho Republicans.

"Let's get out of here!"

And I did. I woke up.

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