From this scene, I arrive (back) at prison [sure, doesn't EVERYONE live there?]. In the dream, it doesn't seem odd that I've been allowed out on my own for the appointment. I check in, put my stuff in a locker and return to my cell. Also important to note: at some point between this and the next scene, I have a set of metal measuring cups [I used to have a set like these], with cheap thin handles that are almost sharp. I bite off about 1/2 to one inch from the ends of the handles and carry the several metal razor blade like shards in my mouth. I smuggle them in. [For what]?
[I guess also at this point it would be helpful to note that I am now a man - men's prison].
There are three of us who share a cell and with no sexual implications, I share a single cot with one of them. We go to bed. Outside our cell, down the hall a ways, there is a wild crazy man (looks like the feral kind you see in the movies who have lived alone in the deep woods all their life). He is on a single cot in the hall, not in a cell. My cot-mate has a razor blade in his mouth that he too smuggled - in case he would need it for something [have I mentioned I have a fear of sharp things in real life?]. He apparently decides he doesn't want to get caught with it so he tosses it between the bars into the hall. The wild man picks it up and causes some sort of big commotion with it [interesting that HE is outside a cell, but we are INSIDE]. Soon a riot ensues (we're still in our cell, but everyone else seems to be out).
At this point, I'm thinking I don't want to get caught with my little shards of metal either, so I remove them from my mouth and hand them to my cot-mate who tosses them into the hall and into the chaos.
Suddenly, the third man in our cell, excited or incited by the riot, jumps my bunk mate and starts violently kissing him. It's not a rape but the same implication - violent, pinning, forcing him, french kissing him. I'm not sure what happens - perhaps my cot-mate gets away or is stronger, but I'm next. Suddenly he's on me - pins me - says I'm next. I am no match in strength at all, but I say I will bite (it's the only available defense I can see). So the match becomes our faces in a snapping stand-off. He trying to move in to kiss - me trying to bite at whatever part of his face I can. There is a suffocating and panic feeling because of being pinned [which I hate...don't' most people?] and the weight of his body and his breath - it's like a dementor in Harry Potter - sucking away my air. The panic is overwhelming.
[this is the place where my husband wakes me up. Apparently I am crying or whining or making some sort of distressful noises. I feel like I can't breathe]
[afterward, there is a feeling that that man still remains with me. I begin to wonder if he may have been a spirit visitation, someone telling a part of his story, being the jerk he was in real life in death as well. Perhaps this being was a violent prisoner who victimized his cell mates. It is hard to describe the sometimes subtle differences between a spirit visitation and a dream. The spirits are more physical, more lingering in their impressions, more substantive. And important to note, not all spirit visitors are so rude! I also wake up with a headache].
I'm a bit at a loss for the symbolic meaning here. Prison certainly could speak to a feeling of being contained or imprisoned in any number of ways, feeling helpless and over-powered by others? The idea that the crazy people are on the outside and I'm on the inside gives pause for thought. Am I being held in or held safe? Both my cell mate and I decide to give up our smuggled weapons...clearly we fear "getting in trouble" more than we fear being physically harmed by our fellow prisoners. That's sort of interesting. And could the attack by the third man be just one more way to view having your voice silenced? By literally having it sucked from you, or your air sucked out, your life force removed?
What do you think?
I had to laugh...as I'm typing this, the thought runs through my mind..."geeze, you better not ever run for office or become famous, because you know this stuff will surface and be shown as proof positive why you are unfit for whatever it is". And the same thought "It is time to be real, to be authentic, if that happens and in some way prevents me from "being somebody", so be it". I can't imagine fame or public office appealing much to a hermit, but you never know. People change. The first 40 years of my life are very VERY different than the last 8 have been.
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