I don't think that Snoopy, our ginger-haired mutt (of blessed memory), ever put in an appearance in my dream life. But then, he was really my daughter's dog, and I merely the supplier of food, the cleaner of vomit, the chaser off the newly washed floors, etc. Apparently he never dug his way into my subconscious.
Sugar, on the other hand, only 14 weeks old, only two weeks with us, put in a loud and boisterous appearance in a dream last night. It was frightening, more nightmare than dream. There she stood, high on a rock where I couldn't reach her, barking her head off, barking till I wanted to dash my head on that rock.
Which is odd, because Sugar hasn't yet barked even once. Hubby and I have never heard the sound of her future barks; she resorts to whining, weeping and howling when she wants to mold our behavior. But, lurking in the back of my mind is something I read in the dozens of dog books that now lie ignored in a pile on the bedroom floor. The ominous line: "Small Poodles are known to be yappy and CAN bark a lot." This, to me, is truly the stuff of nightmare activity.
I gave a good deal of thought to the dream this morning. My mind hearkened back to a course I took in college on the interpretation of dreams. (Yes, dear reader, in those benighted days of all-women's colleges, an elite education consisted in courses that would have absolutely no practical application in the real world. And I had little interest in the real world at the time. I loved to read, loved to learn, wanted marriage, children and maybe to write later on, after the kids no longer needed me. And it worked out! So do not accept any belly-aching from me in future concerning my lack of a serious career, OK? Call me on it, I need sometimes to be reminded.)
Anyway, where were we? Yes, dream interpretation. My course was primarily focused on Freud's seminal work The Interpretation of Dreams. This was a book in which I was much interested (I think I got an A for the course, btw), especially as I leafed through it and picked apart all the types of dreams that pertained to my personal dream life. For the rest, I seemed to recall having a copy of Cliff's Notes on hand.
If you listen to Freud (who is being discredited these days, but who isn't?) dreams are either wish fullfillments, manifestations of fears, or based on penis envy. Freud was big on penis envy and deemed it the cause of all neuroses in women (which I never could understand as in my young years I often worried about the vulnerability of having one's private parts dangling between one's legs. Anyone could kick you there! A most alarming thought to me, and I felt rather sorry for people with dangling privates).
But back to Sugar and my dream. We can rule out penis envy for obvious reasons -- unless barking is a metaphor for male aggression. But I'm going to let that one go, not being a professional psychoanalyst. Now, wish fulfillment? Definitely not. In fact, the dream prompted me to enroll Sugar in puppy training classes already this morning. Don't even want to take the chance. But fear? Ah, fear. The motivator of so much of our behavior. I do fear an incessantly barking little canine, an uncontrollably yipping 4 pound beast consisting mostly of voice.
Living in fear, however, is a terrible way to conduct one's life. So as I write I'm trying to come up with the positive, modern, feminist, non-Freudian interpretation of this dream. And here it is.
Sugar stands on the tall rock. She's telegraphing me a message: I am Woman, hear me roar. I'm not roaring at You, my human, I'm simply a modern female puppy, and I want the world to know it. This is such a lame interpretation that even I blush to write it. But when it comes to our canine "others," we do tend to grow silly and soft in the head. This is a condition I already have enough of. In conclusion, I hope Sugar will oblige me by staying out of my dreams. She already controls the house and the life, but please, Sug, tread carefully on my subconscious.
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