Cutting The Breaks On Ostentatious Glory

A Dream Interpretation



The windshield wipers stood no chance to the heavy rain. It was nearly impossible to make out the road. “Hold steady now, we all go through storms like this from time to time.” I told myself in an attempt to calm my shouting nerves. The road was on top a long bridge much like the Florida keys highway, only this one would have tight spiral like turns. I felt the road more then I could see it, and I started to feel it turn. I had no idea how wide the turn was so I started to break. “What the fuck!?” was what I shouted when I found that my foot on the break did nothing to the car’s momentum. They were cut! My only chance was to go with my gut on measuring the angle of the turn. I started to impulsively turn the wheel, trying my best to put all my attention to the feeling of the tires on the road. The car was gaining speed and it was becoming harder and harder to feel out the tires. Then, like a clasp of thunder, the passenger side of the car crashed into the edge railing. I still hadn’t fully engaged the actuality of the crash with its loud crunch, when I suddenly felt no road under the car. I was in mid air falling toward the sea. The feeling of falling was reminiscent of the downward part of a roller coaster. It felt like my navel traveled up my chest to my throat. The front end smashed hard onto the water. The surface tension from the drop must have made the impact similar to crashing into a wall. As I recoil from the front-end impact my shoulders get drenched in very cold salty water. Shivering took over my whole body as I frantically moved around in my seat for a futile impulsive attempt at warmth- this phrase futile impulsive attempt at warmth became the summery of my life as I watched it flash before my eyes. The warmth was happiness. Breathing in the ice cold liquid, my throat bubbles as I draw my last breath.

I awake to discover that was all a nightmare. Seems right as I don’t usually find myself on murky remote bridges in the middle of stormy seas. But what did all this mean? Most people will stop the inquiry here and continue on with their day. No not me. I read in-between the lines. If not for anything else, for the sake of art. A good label to place on this introspective analysis of the random ink-block which is dream interpretation. I favor the gestalt therapy method of alienating aspects of the dream and interrogating those fragmented pieces. I like this method because it involves role playing which is fun for escapists like me.

My choice part to alienate was the fact that my brakes were cut. So I imaginatively sat down the breaks and asked it, “Why were my breaks cut?” The breaks answered, “Because you wanted the glory so that was the fight to get it.” I of coursed played both roles. I was surprised at the answer because I gave the brake’s response spontaneously, with no forethought. The statement was steadily absorbed into my mind.

Do scars double as marks of valor? Or are they futile impulsive attempts at happiness? The asker requests glory not for the better of the whole, but as a way to impress onto that whole his outstanding ability. Now that the pain and the stress have come, one really gives up their essentially hedonistic endeavor. For they realize that to endure the pain, one needs something beside theirselves to live for, and a hedonist only lives for themselves. So seeker of fame, leave the glory to the pure of heart who are brought to glory not by their intention for it, but by the call of the given situation, which sparks inside of them the courage to fight for the ones they love. The hedonist in search of fame/glory cannot find the peace that comes with self-sacrifice- the essential ingredient of well deserved fame.

Where was it in my life that I was striving for glory for the wrong reasons? The dream could be warning me that duties taken on for the sake of popularity will reveal themselves to be too much to handle for those with such shallow aspirations.

I wonder how common this phenomenon is. I also wonder what becomes of the ones who reach that point of pain and then realize they cannot go on. What do they do? Well in my dream I died. And the dream is only a metaphor for reality. So what would be the metaphor for death? The end of something? The end of pain? The end of that particular endeavor and dream? Whatever it turns out to be, it certainly isn't the end to action. For if I would be wrong in my desires, I can always desire other things, or learn to desire things less. The latter is called Buddhism. Should I be a Buddhist?

Dreams are tricky to interpret. There might as well be no definite answer. But the point may not be the answer. It may rather be the search or journey itself. Meandering can at times be the best way to find hidden treasures. And introspective interpretation is no different in being able to find hidden meaning in between the lines of dreams.