I know a lot of people that have Attention Deficit Disorder, and they are some of the most interesting and creative people I have ever met. I, however, seem to have the opposite problem. I am able to focus on incredibly boring material for long periods of time. Rather than get carried away by flights of fancy, I instead focus on mundane details. It’s one thing when you turn down watching football on TV with a friend because you really would rather do your economics history reading. But it’s gone too far when you can’t even have a normal dream anymore.
Most of my reoccurring dreams have to do with minor details of daily life. For example, I forget to put on my deodorant. A slight variation is the one where I go to the store, and they no longer sell deodorant. There is also the one where I get on the school bus and have forgotten to put on my shoes, and I wake up shaking in a cold, deodorant-less sweat.
Over the past year, though, I have been having long-form dreams about the same sorts of things. One involves Jon Stewart. In it, I end up working for the Daily Show, and Jon and I fall in love and get married. Then, through Jon’s Hollywood connections, I land a movie deal, and my super-stardom exceeds that of my husband.
Great dream? Well, it started out that way. The second time I had it, I didn’t have the movie career. Then, Jon and I didn’t get married?instead, he was in love with Rebecca Romijn-Stamos. However, I guess since she would no longer be married to John Stamos of Full House fame, she would probably become Rebecca Romijn-Stewart. The next REM cycle, I didn’t even have a job anymore at the Daily Show, I had a lousy internship, and all I did is transcribe interviews later aired on the Daily Show. When I thought the dream couldn’t get less satisfying, I started to dream that I was in my apartment, watching the Daily Show on TV.
Well, sometimes you shoot for the stars, and you hit the roof.
A dream that started showing up in heavy rotation when the promotion for 8 Mile hit full effect is about Eminem. I’m doing contract work for Rolling Stone, and I’m sent to get the story about the “real” Marshal Mathers. Eminem’s management is really into the idea, so they suggest that I just move into Mathers’ compound for a couple weeks so I can see first-hand what his life is like. A young and intrepid music journalist, I jump at the opportunity. While living with Eminem, life is a rap video come to life?the kind of rap video with lots of hot tubs and Cristal rather than the somber rap video where life problems are discussed. During those few weeks, I am living as his de facto girlfriend. My article is published, hard-hitting and deftly describing Eminem not as misogynist and homophobic, but as a media-savvy artistic genius who is the spokesman for a new generation. My editor and Eminem are both impressed by my insight, and this gains me not only a promotion, but also a devoted superstar boyfriend.
During my waking hours, certain things about this dream bothered me. First, the story was written in a completely non-ethical manner. How could I possibly write an objective story if I was living in his house and partying with him in his hot tub? Second, he has a daughter and crazy ex-wife. Where were they in this dream?
The next time I had the dream, all of these problems were resolved. My story ran with the explanation that while biased, it still offered worthwhile insights into a superstar’s life. Eminem actually had amicable relations with his ex-wife, and his daughter was great?we all got along just fine. Even his tattoos, which I hate, were gone. But instead of an exciting dream, all I was left with was this bland guy who was a complete fake.
My disorder is continuing. Last week I went to see Crossfire, which is filmed live at George Washington University. I was immediately smitten with Republican political pundit Tucker Carlson. While I hear he’s actually about 40 years old, his boyish good looks and mop of light-brown hair add to his charm and quick wit. The problem is, I’m a pretty staunch Democrat. Cross-party relationships seem only to work in the case of George Carville and Mary Matlin. Even in the dream realm, Tucker and I didn’t stand a chance.
My unconscious solution was to make Tucker a Democrat. In my dream he was pro-choice, pro-women’s rights and a strong supporter of social programs. Crossfire lost a large amount of appeal, though, because he agreed with everything Paul Begala said. The problem was, in accordance with his new Democratic values, he had to change his style?he lost the bowtie. Much like the biblical story of Samson whose power was within his hair, when Tucker got rid of the bowtie, the love was gone.
If dreams are the window into the unconscious, then my unconscious is not only boring, but also self-defeating. Dreams should be the time where I let loose and let my imagination go crazy, forget the constraints and rules of my waking life.
That is, as long as they are realistic and I can control every detail so they are just perfect.
Gina Pace is a senior in the School of Foreign Service and senior writer of The Georgetown Voice. She’s American by birth, Southerner by the grace of God.
