Going through some old stuff yesterday, I came across an old notebook of mine. I only filled five pages of it before I abandoned it or lost it under a pile of something or who knows what. Of the five pages, four of them got devoted to jotting down dreams from late June, 2004. Any reason I’m finding this now? Maybe. Or maybe I’ve found the notebook now only because…I’ve found it now.
One dream in particular, felt worth going over and archiving here. I’m not sure what it would have meant for me nearly four years ago when I had it, but it certainly means something now.
The passages in brackets are current comments and impressions I have re: this dream.
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6/27/04
Dreamt that JD Salinger contacted David Letterman out of the blue, Letterman being, it turned out, the only person JDS felt comfortable talking to; in the dream, I work for Letterman and so Dave and I went to meet Salinger. The shock: Salinger had some terrible facial skin condition.
His skin was all scaly, loose flakes, like the orange inside of a Butterfinger that’s been sat on, thrown about and smacked against the wall for good measure. On top of this, when Letterman and I first see Salinger, he looks like William S. Burroughs and is, apparently, a black man. [I don't know if this means that something physical indicates he's a black man or simply that I can somehow intuit that he's supposed to be a black man.]
At some point, JDS gets the left side of his face stuck to the leg of my pants and as he pulls his head away, all the flesh on that side of his face is ripped off. I have to look away in panic, fear, disgust. I think I am screaming. I turn back to look at the flaky Salinger skin stuck to my pant leg and see that a spider sits nestled inside one of the folds. This spider has been inside JDS’ skin, under it, inside his cheek.
“Look, a spider,” Salinger points out.
The next moment, I look at JDS face and it appears to be made of brick.
Where’s Letterman?
The dreamscape switches to a war front: the trenches. Tiny flames are being lit in the trenches in front of each man, like there are candle wicks inside the ground. It looks utterly manageable, but then all the little flames turn into a blazing fire that spreads down the trenches, down hill and sets all these black troops, who somehow I know are slaves conscripted to fight, on fire. For some reason, these troops are all wearing Revolutionary War garb…
Very interesting. I have recorded my dreams onto a tape recorder. It’s awesome listening to my dreams and then trying to make sense of it all.
You do come up with some amusing anectotes. Is Salinger read much anymore? In school we had a great English lit teacher, who refused to teach the A level syllabus until the exams were almost upon us, which caused such concern that everyone actually did really well, and instead made us read many other interesting books including Catcher in the Rye. A very good and late friend of mine wrote his review, just :
“When I put this book down I couldn’t pick it up again”.
The teacher’s comment was simply to complain that the review was undated.
Franny and Zooey however - I loved that book.
Regards,
HGJ
I wonder if JD Salinger has ever visited the Bohemian Grove in California? If so the spider aspect might come to the foreground, since the entrance sign to the grove reads “Weaving Spiders Come Not Here.”
leaving aside the possibility of this dream actually prophesying the future / giving us secret clues into the mind of the illuminati…
I’m currently analysing me own nocturnal remissions on the basis of the idea that a change of scene often means the dream is replaying the same unconscious contents in a different way / elaborating or condensing them.
So, on a basic sub-Jungian approach, and for waht it’s worth, starting with the easier iteration, here’s my armchair analysis:
The flames seem to represent the controlled fragmentation of normal rational consciousness, but in trenches, i.e. sunken into the ground (the unconscious), and in the middle of a battle (suggesting a current trend of upwelling of unconscious contents in your life at that time and a shaking of the conscious structure - ideally as part of a break-down to build-up again better individuation cycle).
Indeed, this is what we see - the fire joining back together into un-fragmented psychical energy which draws your vision further downhill (ie deeper into unconsciousness) revealing personifications of the supressed elements of the unconscious (compound image of black [ie made of the earth] and revolutionary war - ancient, archaic, primal consciousness) and merging with them, setting them on fire and perhaps indicating a reanimation of them with the light of consciousness although in this case in a somewhat frictional and conflicted manner akin to Blakean Orc-fire of rebellious energy struggling against repressive domination.
To read the more obscure Salinger/Letterman material through this lens:
JD Salinger [obscure, anonymous, suppressed unconscious elements] contacted [request from the unconscious to make contact with - what this dream is doing!] David Letterman out of the blue, Letterman being, it turned out, the only person JDS felt comfortable talking to [Letterman as corporate shill, working for powers of rational consciousness / authority / power / dominator structure and yet also a comedian, some link back to to untramelled play of Self]; in the dream, I work for Letterman [yes you do, don't we all, but as a junior assistant, still young, not quite so identified witht he power structure that we can't learn something from Salinger] and so Dave and I went to meet Salinger. The shock: Salinger had some terrible facial skin condition. [He's been down there too long. It has becoming dry and sick from lack of air and light. Time to correct this]
…On top of this, when Letterman and I first see Salinger, he looks like William S. Burroughs and is, apparently, a black man. [As above, compound image of archaic consciousness, WSB thrown in for good measure as symbol of magick, anti-authority, perhaps echo of Wise Old Man archetype]
At some point, JDS gets the left side [the unconscious side? the left-hand pth?] of his face stuck to the leg of my pants and as he pulls his head away, all the flesh on that side of his face is ripped off. [fear of contamination with the unconscious contents, connection to body, decay] …a spider sits nestled inside one of the folds. This spider has been inside JDS’ skin, under it, inside his cheek. [The animate energy uncovered from within the stagnant parts of the unconscious once the disgust / rejection of the shadow has been faced. The power within. Life persists.]
“Look, a spider,” Salinger points out. [reinforces that THIS was the point of the visit]
The next moment, I look at JDS face and it appears to be made of brick. [Unclear. Mission accomplished? Brick face like some ancient Egyptian monument? Perhaps mind can't take any more scary stuff for now and so blocks the further contact from JDS - and so then looks for reassurance from the super-ego / conscious structure in form of Letterman {just noticed - 'Letter-man' cf. words, literary consciousness as structural bulwark against unconscious, cf WSB trying to 'rub out the word'?}]
Where’s Letterman? [Can go no further at this level. re-boot and try in a different context / condensing symbology of first run into more compact form. Cue trench scene]
Something like that…………
Cool dream!