The Cure’s “Close to Me” describes a recurring dream of Robert Smith’s, which makes him wonder, “If I was only so sure that my head on a door was a dream.”
Brian, one of my East Coast blog friends, mentioned this morning waking up from a nightmare where someone tries to mug him. At least it’s one where he tries to go down fighting. For me, it brought to mind the Cure’s “Close to Me,” but I also remembered a few nightmares of my own.
When I was around four or five years old, I went with my father on Disneyworld’s Haunted Mansion ride. I don’t remember details about what I saw. All I remember was that I was scared, crying, and hugging my father. For several years after that, I had many dreams where I was on the ride, but the details kept getting more and more embellished with every dream. I don’t know if hands sticking out of a door nailed shut was an original feature, but I frequently saw it. Later on, I saw a gigantic, glowing spiderweb. I never saw any spider, but I was fascinated by how big and bright it was. When I was in the fifth grade and there was a family trip to Disneyland, I had to go on the Haunted Mansion ride. This time, to my eleven year old mind, it was fun, but cheesy. I never had the dreams again, but I would always remember them. All those years I think my mind was just trying to make sense of it all.
When I was in my mid-twenties, I dreamed that I witnessed a gay bashing. Some poor man was chased by another with a pipe and I horrified. I was frozen and all I could do was scream. However, there was no sound and I woke up trying to make noise out of a muted cry. I was in my fundamentalist period at the time, and I now see it as a manifestation of internalized homophobia.
Thankfully, I’ve never had a dream about my head on the door. That would have been too freaky.