English Teacher

I thought a diamond was a girls best friend....

On examining my understanding of Hobson and Hartmann, I observe that I, too, had the propensity to think of Hartmann as a genuine person, and Hobson as a pretentious individual. My imagos aside, I found some really interesting comparisons and contrasts between these two theorists and the earlier ones.

I had this dream sequence after consuming wine (I dont normally drink, but we had a family function)...

I was interested in reading and sharing ideas about the Victorian Dream Theories because they do seem to be quite advanced for their time.

Perhaps MacNish is right: certain foods can turn your dreams into nightmares....

I am sitting in my porch staring through my window, drinking a cup of coffee. The shades are open wide, and three men come up to my door. I watch the knob as it suddenly turns from unlocked to locked, as if one of the strangers has a key. The door opens, and I jump up to stop. I lock it, however the man is much stronger then I, and I can not seem to get it closed. I gain strength on the man, when all of a sudden his pokes his hand in the door and grabs my hair. I free the knob, and I fall to the floor. The men go in my home, and I stare up to them. They are grinning, and sweaty. I know I should try to attack, or scream, or run, but I am frozen in fear. One of the men takes my arm and drags me outside of my house. He flings me on the cold brick steps. From my front window, I watch as the men rob my house. They take all of the things important to me: my book of poetry, my pictures, my computer. I scream wildly from outside the locked door. The men disappear into other rooms. I am sitting on the cold bricks, and it is now snowing. Sometime later, the men walk out with black masks on. They are talking and laughing at me. I begin crying, and one of the men give me a tissue. When I finish wiping my eyes, I notice the tissue has blood on it.