Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

on dreams, Carl Jung, and astrology

The most bewildering, strange, and ridiculously convoluted and frankly quite stupid dreams occur to me on Saturday mornings. 

No, it is not due to dropping acid the night before or doing any sort of drugs altogether to alter my perceptions; merely the urgency I feel in sneaking in an extra hour or five before actually “waking up”. The seven or eight hours of restless, fairly dreamless sleep that occurs before waking up just to go back to sleep could perhaps be mental preparation, or something entirely different. The alarm clock next to my bed is fifteen minutes slower than the wall clock I have no more than seven feet away from it. I keep it that way so that it feels earlier than it actually is, as a sort of allowance. or, permission for sleeping past the hour of noon consistently at least once every week. That being said, waking up to get to places I need to be can be a bitch. 

I wake up every Saturday morning between eleven and eleven fifty-five in the morning. I then promptly go back to sleep. My body wants to seize the day, perhaps to help me get in shape or meet someone new. My mind wants to seize illogical concepts and nonsensical hallucinations, perhaps to tell me of my innate problems or desires. I took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI), as created by Carl Jung to try to do something as wholly redundant as trying to define an undefinable aspect of life that we call our personalities, yesterday. It defined me as an INFJ, one who “hold[s] deep convictions about the weightier matters of life,” and is a “champion of the oppressed and downtrodden.” I’m with the likes of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela, and Jerry Seinfeld. Ah, such great men in their own rights. As I explored my subconscious, psyche, and other mind-related vocabulary words through dreams I barely recall nor barely understand, I realized that I wouldn’t describe myself as one that is as altruistic or hero-like as Mandela is, nor am I such a great orator or as deeply devoted in my beliefs as Dr. King. Rather, I am indecisive, a mushmouth when it comes to public speaking, and don’t really hold anything but “high interest” in anything. I am highly interested in the arts, highly interested in the way people think and the way our world revolves around interaction. The concepts of human rights, equality, habeas corpus, et cetera, are all things that I care about but I wouldn’t be able to act on those convictions, mainly due to my own self-doubt as to the difference that I would make as well as my own true beliefs, which can change over time.

Delving into astrology, I myself am considered an Aquarius, and you can probably go from there. Aquariuses are described in the same way an INFJ can be, as well as many other traits I would consider myself to be, but not necessarily what others would describe me as. I heard glimpses of a conversation earlier this day as I was thinking about something else that was between a new friend and an old friend that was on the subject of horoscopes, and how they are supposed to guide you in your day’s decisions but end up being absolutely stupid ideas. Astrologists have a good thing going there, they give “advice” to people they don’t even know, people who might do exactly by their word, or people who merely dismiss the horoscope as bogus but keep it in the back of their minds; and by doing so, they can pretty much manipulate one’s actions. Perhaps they had someone in mind when they write each horoscope, tailored to someone they know that is, say, a Libra, rather than the general population of Libras that would end up reading it. One of my most developed thoughts concerning astrology is that it is not the way you were born to act, as dictated by the stars and your birth month, rather, it is the way you should act due to the fact that you were born in a certain month. To clarify, you aren’t already exhibiting the traits of, say, an Aquarius, but rather you want to exhibit traits of an Aquarius, not because you want to, but rather because you feel that it’s more of an obligation.

In essence, it’s all bullshit.

I’ve written before about dreams, speaking in ridiculous psychobabble that they are messages from your subconscious, screaming at you in code the things that are currently bothering you or what you need to improve. As I wrote before, “there’s a lot of fucked up shit that goes on in the mind that we cannot understand.” Sometimes the most bewildering dreams are your mind speaking to itself to reiterate everything that has been going on. The craziest dreams could possibly be visions that show your “true” self, who you really are under all of the protective barriers and temporary amendments to your “true” self you put around it ever since you were first insulted or made fun of in a school playground. Underneath it all, we are the same person, it’s merely the way you present yourself that changes. Crazy, bewildering, nonsensical dreams that occur after stealing an hour or two of extra sleep could most likely be a way to look past all of that.

Then again, it could always just be your random thoughts of flying waffle irons, warring nation-states of fish knights, and the one that you yearn to be with all coagulating into an explosion of thought, known as a dream.


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