English Teacher

This is short but very odd.

I am sitting in my computer chair looking up information for my education report. I am working diligently looking at sites, but I can not see to type the information. Microsoft Word is in front of me, but it is taking hours to type one or two letters, and my frustration builds. I get up from my desk, with no emotion, but as soon as lie on my couch, I begin to cry profusely. I can not control my crying, and it gets worse and worse. My eyes are deep red and milky looking. As I am sitting in my room, I spot a dead golden retriever puppy on my television. Having an unbelievable obsession with golden pups, I figure out my source of crying is at the dog. She was my old dog, Michelle, who was a Pekingese. Anyway, Michelle is lying on my television not breathing. I pick her up and I hold her in my arms like she is an infant. She begins to cry from her open eyes. I take her to backyard door to give her a burial (when my dog died in 2005 she was cremated). When I look out my screen door, I find a whole pool of drowned golden retriever puppies. I wake up.

This dream is very Harmann-like. It also really scared me.

I am walking in the forest with a friend. It is dark, and we both mention how exhausted we are. We decide to go to sleep on forest floor, a moist beige dirt. I put my hands under my cheek, and rest my head. I ground is really slimy and sticky, and I see my hand sliding under the soil. Suddenly, my hand is more visibly sinking into the dirt. It seems as if my hand is being pulled under by some force. I turn my head to my friend, but she is gone. I look closely, and I see her sleeve is sticking out of the ground. I panic, and thrust my hand out of the ground to run to her. When I look down at my hand, I notice that worms have now taken the place of my fingers. My fingers still exist, but are completely surrounded by green worms. I speed over to my friend's sleeve, and begin to yank it out of the ground, but instead of making progress and saving her, I am simply picking off pieces of her sleeve like it was made out of potato chips. I get little crumbs of her shirt, and I begin to pile them on the ground. From the ground, I hear her calling out, crying and moaning. I decide I need to strip down, and sink my pant leg into the ground so she could crab a hold of it. I am naked now, and pushing my jeans down into the soil. She grabs a hold of it, and I appear to be getting her out, when all of sudden her arm breaks off and I am thrown down to the ground. I get up terrified when I notice her arm grabbing on my jeans. I look to ground and there is a huge gaping hole in the ground. I look into the hole and see clouds, fluffy white pillows of clouds. I also see hands, legs, and heads randomly floating across the clouds. I wonder if they are my friends, but they seem like they belong to young children. I call out for my friend, but there is no answer. I do, however, feel a strangling feeling on my neck, to find my friend's arm has decided to choke me. I wake up.

I am walking through an unknown place with my boyfriend. It is a metropolis, with dingy sidewalks and not many trees or plants. I hear him talking to me directly, but I am not paying attention to what he is saying. In fact, I am more concerned with looking around at the urban place. I am starting at, and into, the apartments. I remember seeing an old woman in a housedress hanging clothes off a line, and looking into the windows and seeing children making silly faces at me. I also remember viewing a red bird on a telephone pole, and admiring how the made the bird glow.
My boyfriend raised his voice to get my attention. I look up when I hear him say "Look at that!" From my ground level vantage point I see myself on the window ledge of the top floor of an apartment. I am sitting on the ledge, my feet dangling against the brick siding. I watch me balance on the ledge and begin to walk in mid air. I look like I am tight-rope walking, and a thin rope begins to form beneath my feet, but only after taking the step forward. I, on the ground, call out for the person as if I do not know she is me. I am telling her to stop, warning her to watch out, but she is smiling unaware, and walking toward a tree top.
The tight-rope walking me gets to the branches of a tree, and starts swinging from them. Her arms look extremely bendable and rubbery. I start to relax, and am entertained by this girl, who is me, and she calls me over to come play with her. I run over and she swings branches at me to grab on to. Yet, as I try to grab on to them, I learn she is actually swining them maliciously at me, trying to hit me. I wake up soon after this goes on for a few mintues.

For this week, I am aware that we had to record two dreams, however I saw Medium and would like to share the shows contents. I do not usually watch the show, but it was on in the background and I started getting interested in it. Apparently, the main character (a young blonde woman) has dreams and prophetic moments that saves lives and provides a good to her community. In this particular episode, she kept waking up from a dream, but she woke up into another dream. She was stuck waking up to a Friday three times, and the dream kept beginning at them same place, and she could remember having the dream, and tried to fix the mistakes from the previous dream. This television show reminded me of WAKING LIFE for various reasons, and like the film, she didn't know she kept waking up into another dream until already deep within the dream. Just in the film, there was a feeling of control, with also a feeling of frustration, confusion, and ironically, and lack of control.It was very interesting how the character was able to change the course of her actions, but the main event (a crime) was still destined to happen. As this related to class, I have been trying (or at least hoping) to have a lucid dream, or at least be able to realize I am dreaming. I have been recording dreams and trying to gain some control in dreams, but it has not happened. I would like to be able to have a recurring dream that I could try to alter the contents.

I went to bed late, and for the first time in a long time, I had a math dream. I was in school, and I was given a test. The test was all math problems. I had shown up late for class as it was, and there I was, wondering how to answer the questions. I could stare at the math sheet, and could even remember seeing the number 37, but I was unable to answer the questions. When the test was over, I was trying to pull the test back from my professors hand. I was trying to tell him I was not done, but he was shaking his head, and pulling the test away from me. I woke up, and it was about five in the morning. I went back to sleep, but I went right back into the same dream. This time, I do not remember the major plot, but I recall seeing the math sheet, and the numbers again. Our theories are correct, it is so difficult to concentrate on figures and everyday objects. But I remember having a mental voice. While I was dreaming, there was a voice in my head saying, "come on, you know you can do this."

I am walking around a peach colored room. The chairs are creamy and ornate. There are long Victorian lamps, and a coffee table with pearl picture frames and glass candy dishes. The room resembled by boyfriend's parents traditional living room. I continuing walking about when I spot a doorway. I enter the doorway slowly, and it is large restaurant. I spot someone I know standing at the hostess stand. He turns to me and says, "you are very late," which surprises me because I had no idea I was going to anything important. I explained to him that I have been looking around, and he tells me to nevermind, and takes my hand, and we run through the restaurant like show dogs at the Kennel Club. I am striding along side my friend, dressed very formally in a tux. The restaurant errupts in a standing ovation as we waltz passed them. No one is eating dinner, plates and forks are thrown about on a table. They are all concentrating on us. Finally, we exit through the front doors, big brown doors with glass windows. It is dark outside, and I can feel a bit of mist as we stand under a bright red awning. I tap my heels on the marble steps, and he stops me, grabs me close to him, and kisses me like we were in a Hollywood film. Midkiss, cameras flash, and I turn to see limos and reports crowded around us. We are so surprised, I am a bit humiliated, but we smile and wave fakely, and he gives the crowd a thumbs up and puts his arm around my neck like I am his sister, or like he is a football player, and I am his coach. Our whole relationship seems to change. I suddenly turn to him and frown. I throw his arm back at him, and run into the crowd of admiring fans. I realize they are not there for me, they open up like sea to let me go into a car, but continue taking photographs of him. I get into a limo, and tell the driver to leave, but he looks at me a grins, and says "who the hell ya think ya are misses." I get out of the car, but when I try the other limos they are either locked, or no driver is in them. I get mad, and now walk in the rain. I can not remember what happens next, or if I wake up right around this point. This dream was weird because I felt like I was either on the Titanic (thanks to watching the movie on Friday) or perhaps someplace in the 1920's.

Although I really have enjoyed the start of Ishiguro's novel, much of THE UNCONSOLED was filled with frustration for me. I figure this will be a place to map out the major frustrations that occurred for me when I read the text. Initially, I had a hard time understanding Mr. Ryder's place in the city. He appeared to be a guest of the town, yet, he appears to be the only person to think so. Much of the people are familiar with him, and initially, he even seems to know Gustav's family. When the novel progresses, I wondered how in such an instant in seeing Gustav's daughter, he somehow remembers her face, remember talking to her, and immediately has some intimate relationship with her. Once more, even after getting the realization of their dating or marriage, and the possibility of Boris being his son, he still refers to himself as “an outsider” on page 86 of the novel. Boris, also, creates some frustration in the novel, yet there is something different about him. He creates a frustration when he talks of things like the “number 9” soccer star and also when he tells Mr. Ryder to be patient when waiting for the bus, Boris shows a frustration of things going at a timeless pace. When the two are walking toward home, which is another frustrating moment for the mere fact that they can never keep up with Sophie, it is also frustrating in the amount of time that is felt passing. It seems like several hours are passing them of the two of the wandering around and waiting for buses and Stephan’s car aimlessly, because they have no idea how to get to the apartment.
The idea of sleep also provides a sense of uneasiness. It is odd that everyone can fall asleep, talk about sleep and snoring, but it is unthinkable, and rather difficult, for Mr. Ryder to get a few winks. I think this is immensely frustrating, yet I it I also important to remember that he does also refuse sleep to go to that late night movie. People are constantly being woken up from sleep at all hours of the day, and I believe this adds to the timeless feeling of the novel. So much goes on, but only a day seems to go by incompletion.
I am aware that it is this frustration that makes it dreamlike in quality. It also makes the novel extremely interesting. One thing I appreciate about the novel is how unique and dreamlike it is. I felt from the beginning like I was in the dream work of Mr. Ryder, with much condensation. Sophie is a stranger, his girlfriend, his wife, and his sibling all at once. I can not wait to read on to see how his life unfolds.