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Dreams can be pretty crazy things, don't you think? One can have a perfectly normal dream about events that happened during the day or some twisted dream where nothing is how it seems and everything is wrong. Dreams are actually pretty controversial in the psychology world, as I learned this week.
There are a few psychologists who say that dreams are our brain's interpretation of our unfulfilled desires (I'll give you one guess who thought this one up). I can see that. For example, dreaming about being a famous basketball star or dancer would support this theory. But what about when I dream about failing a test in school or my baby dying? I certainly don't desire for those things to happen! How do we explain it then?
Another theory is that dreams help us to reconsider and reprocess information that we received during the day and is critical to our survival. This would explain why we often dream about bad things happening - our mind may be deciding whether the fear is real or immaterial. The theory says that we dream about our concerns, fears, indecisions, ideas, and desires. Makes a lot of sense, right?
The third is called the Activation-Synthesis Theory. It says that while we sleep, our brain produces random electric surges that access different parts of our memory. Because our brain has to have order, it weaves the random memories into a storyline that we dream. This is how we can dream that our old pet dog is green and lives with us in our current house even though he's been dead for many years.
I personally have had dreams that fit into each of these theories, which leads me to believe that each of them has some merit. My challenge to myself this month is to keep a dream journal. Maybe I'll find out some interesting things about myself!
There are some days, like today, when I hate my life. I get woken up much too early - I didn't sleep well last night. I don't want to be cooped up at home today, but it's stormy outside and much too cold for an outing. I watch my husband walk out of the house with a "love you, hon." Oh, how I want to follow him and trade days with him! Sadly, there's no way I could do his job, so I simply attempt to get Wil and me some breakfast, which is promptly thrown all over the floor, even though my new suction cup bowls were supposed to fix that!
I think "well, at least I can pour myself a bowl of sugary cereal and calm myself down for a minute. But, of course, there is only a few straggling pieces of cereal left. I sigh and pour the raisin bran instead. Just as I add the milk, Wil starts screaming because he has no food to eat (it's all on the floor). I'm starting to get a bit angry now. I go find something that I can distract him with so I can eat in peace. Fruit snacks! They'll do the trick! I dump a few on his tray. And go back to my now soggy cereal.
Taking the first bite, I gag at the texture and have to put it down the sink. In desperation, I eat some of the fruit snacks, which causes Wil to scream again because I'm eating his food. "Fine then, I'll just let you eat them all!" I scream in my head. Okay, Michelllie, calm down. Just let him finish his breakfast and then you can put him down for his nap. I wait patiently for Wil to signal he's done (he screams) and take him down from his high chair.
Somehow the child is soaking wet and I can smell the stinkiness that tells me he has a dirty diaper. No problem. I'll just get him dressed and change his diaper, then put him to sleep and get to eat. I undress my child, peeling the sopping clothes from his body. I unfasten the diaper, reach for a wipe, and -? Where's all my wipes? The box is empty! I quickly look around and see a white pile over in the corner where Wil had pulled out all the wipes sometime between bedtime last night and this morning. I look around frantically, trying to think of anything I can use to wipe his bum, while holding his flailing legs in a vice-like grip and absently handing him a clothes hanger to play with. Aha! There it is! The extra wipes! I just have to let go for one second, turn around, bend down, and grab them! I can do this! I count to myself "1, 2, 3...Go!"
I execute my moves perfectly, turning back around just in time to see my baby pull the diaper up over his stomach and head, launching it onto the floor. Then noticing he has poop all over him, begins rubbing it around in an attempt to get it off him. For a moment all I can do is stare in absolute horror. "Wiliam!" I shrill in a high-pitched yell. "Stop!" Which, of course, causes him to burst into tears and begin trying to roll over and stand up. I pick him up by the least dirty parts and rush into the bathroom, where I turn on the water and proceed to wash my baby. He calmly begins to drink the water. I gag, almost throw up, and hurry to finish washing him off. I somewhat roughly yank him from the draining water in the tub and wrap him in a towel. I've made him angry now!
Finally, several minutes later, I almost-gently lay Wil in his crib, dressed and newly diapered, tell him I love him, and hurry out of the room in tears. I am sitting here crying, stomach growling, trying not to imagine what the rest of the day will be like. I think I'm going to go take a shower and a nap. Maybe, I sigh, the day won't turn out so bad. After all, what else can go wrong? :)
I introduced Wil to grass today. I, thinking there would be no problem, sat him down and started to unload my books to study. Imagine my surprise when he screamed and scrambled over to me, practically jumping into my lap! So, I turned him around and showed him my feet in the grass, then did something else while I let him look at the grass from my lap. Eventually, he dared to touch it; he slowly extended his finger until it touched one blade of grass. Jumping, Wil hurriedly pulled his finger back. A few more seconds, and he put out his hand to brush it over the grass. Next came the feet, which was still too scary. I simply arranged myself so I was sitting with my legs on either side of him, but with him sitting in the grass. "Grass," I said. "This is grass." Soon he was running all over the place, every so often stooping down to feel the grass. I could see his new discovery shining in his eyes!
Now, what would have happened had I assumed from his first reaction that he didn't like grass and whisked him away to some place familiar? It certainly was my first instinct. I guess I've started to realize that he's getting that thing called independence - learning to rely on himself sometimes. It simultaneously breaks my heart and causes so much joy.
And, as usual, my philosophical side kicks in. Life is like learning about grass. When we encounter something new in life, like meeting a new person or learning a new skill, many times our first reaction is to run away so we don't have to face it. But, if we can just muster up the courage to face our fear, we may find that what we were so scared of becomes a great asset in our life. Maybe I'll take a lesson from Wil and try something new today!
