Calling all Freudians!
I very rarely remember my dreams, unless I wake up then fall asleep for another hour or so, as I did today.
The dream began with me helping a small child do something fun. Suddenly, I was in some kind of library-looking computer store with my mom, who was buying a printer. The store, I knew in that way that you know things in dreams, was owned by Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard
. When my mom attempted to ring the printer up, the cashier pointed her to the back room and said that the owner wanted to speak with her. I decided to follow her, after all, how many chances does one have to meet Soren Kierkegaard?
I remember being concerned about whether I should take my hat off out of respect or not. This was strange, as it's very rare that I wear a hat, particularly one with a brim, as the dream-hat appeared to be.
The room we went into was a large, old, conference-type room, with three people in it. One was the small child I had helped at the start of the dream, playing with a puzzle. There was also an old man with glasses, and then there was Soren Kierkegaard.
Soren was a woman in her 30's or so, fairly attractive but not stunningly so. She didn't look have a face that I recognized, which usually happens in dreams. (the old man looked like a character from a video game I've been playing, which is no surprise). She had long, straight, mousy-brown hair, brown eyes, and a nose that would be called imperious more often than beautiful. She was not thin, but wouldn't even be called chubby. Full-figured in the nonfigurative sense, perhaps.
I decided to impress the great philosopher by sitting down with the child and playing with him at his puzzle while my mother entered printer-related negotiations. At some point, the old man called me over as if accepting me. (dreamSoren never spoke) He gave me a fairly old book that was a collection of Greek plays. I asked what it was for. I asked what I should do with it. He said I could do what I wanted - read it, study it, write on it, cite it, etc. Using my Rowan-charm, I made a feeble academic joke. Should I use it as a works cited or a bibliography?* The dream ended here.
*Something very strange in dream-logic occurred here. The joke I was trying to make was whether I should use MLA-style citations or Chicago-style citations. Dreaming-Rowan somehow knew this, though Dream-Rowan forgot. I'm not sure I've ever had a dream where the "me" in the dream acted as less than complete than "I" would have wanted.
The dream is not so surprising as it might appear. Soren Kierkegaard was not totally random. Last weekend, I stayed at my grandmother's, and the room I was in had a Kierkegaard book I saw regularly and thought about reading. My dream-fascination with Kierkegaard's looks can pretty easily be attributed to the fact that I have been without, ah, female companionship for a few months now. My desire to impress Soren is a little weirder, however, my strategy of being impressive by playing with a related child was a wise move. The Greek plays probably also come from the game I've been playing. The segment I was playing yesterday contained a list of Greek-sounding plays.
Still, it all added up to the most memorable dream I've had in a very long time.