Mary Birdsong


Not only will this slip flatter the curvy figure, it’ll make ANY woman look ten times Jung-er! IMG_2573.JPG
I dream about a LOTTA crazy shit. My dreams are (thankfully) almost always chock full o’ symbols that make my dreams, well … psychologically TASTIER.
The weird symbols in my dreams are like the raisins in my subconscious’ Raisin Bran; they’re the pink hearts and blue diamonds in the lucid dreamer’s Lucky Charms. Without them? Well, lemme put it this way: They’d be about as exciting as watching five hours of C-Span.
I think symbols in dreams are just plain FUN. They’re COOL and enlightening. But, I don’t know how much stock I put in Sigmund Freud’s assertion that they mean X, or Y, or even G.
By taking the time to draw whatever I can remember from my dreams each morning, and writing down (in words) any narrative I can recall, nine times out of ten I discover WHY (for example) a Q-Tip chasing me on a pink tiger is actually NOT about some secret desire to have a cotton swab instead of my vagina, but is in fact about some meaningful but totally unrelated thought I had the day before in the span of a nano-second while I happened to glance at a Q-Tip in my medicine cabinet. When that happens… When my brain happens to be thinking “You’re going to die alone” when my eye inadvertently catches sight of a Q-Tip, that little cotton swab will become inextricably linked to that depressing prediction. It never ASKED to represent something like that, but like it or not, that little cotton swab
just got promoted to…
Cotton SYMBOL.
(Warning! Aviso! Achtung! Never insert a subconscious symbol into your ear canal!)
So Dr. Freud… I don’t think it’s a “one size fits all” formula.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go clean my ear holes.

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