My Dream Theater Experiment
So today I tried making my own dream interpretation theater thing after reading about it. Sounded wild, but hey — why not? Grabbed my notebook and just started writing down last night’s dream while slurping coffee. Mine involved missing a train while wearing mismatched socks? Weird. Anyway, I scribbled it all down messy, typos and all.
Next step: I ripped out a blank page and drew 3 quick stick-figure scenes from the dream. One grumpy stick-me chasing a train, one giant floating sock, and me waving goodbye to the train looking all slumped. Didn’t even care if it looked like toddler art. Just got it out there.
- Took a walk outside with the notebook open and imagined the sock having voice. “You forgot me! Left in the dryer forever!” Felt silly talking to my own doodle.
- Pretended that sad slumped stick-figure me had mic. Whispered “You’re always running late” out loud. Neighbor walking his dog side-eyed me hard.
- Asked myself — “What’s that train actually carrying?” Jotted down “maybe promotions? Or… dentist appointments?”.
And wow. Massive fail became clear fast. My “theater” was just me muttering at paper. Real interpreters — like actual pros — don’t just pull meaning from thin air. They dig deep. Symbols matter, yeah, but the feelings underneath? That’s the real show. Like my stupid sock wasn’t about laundry — it was that panicky feeling of losing control. Didn’t see that coming.
Why do I even know this? ‘Cause two years back after my mom passed, I kept dreaming about locked doors. Went to a proper therapist — not some notebook doodle session — and turns out that door wasn’t just “a door.” It was all my grief packed behind wood grain. Took weeks of talking, ugly crying, the whole deal. That sock dream? Kid stuff next to locked doors chewing your soul.
Would I recommend trying it today? Sure, as a silly coffee-break thing. Draw the monsters. Yell at the doodles. But actual dream work? Nah. That’s deep sea diving. My notebook theater’s basically a kiddie pool.
