That dreams are a most perplexing aspect of our human experience few of us would dispute.

Those of us who have changed our basic beliefs no longer believe that dreams could possibly be zapped into our noggin from outside sources. Rather our nocturnal crypo-conscious calls from the erstwhile Sandman arise completely and exclusively from within our own brain. You alone are the scriptwriter, casting director, producer, set decorator and director as well as best supporting actor......all of which manifests instantaneously concurrent with each unfolding foray into pseudo-reality.

Amirite?

That being said I shall attempt to share with you the most bizarre and at the same time hilarious dream I can recall having recently. I hesitated several days before deciding whether to share it here but I thought I should go ahead while I can still remember the essentials.

The jarring thing about this particular dream is the perplexing question that has arisen as to why oh why would my sub-conscious little mind generate a program of such profound yet fictitious falderal? Hear me out and you'll see what I mean.

It was one of those in the middle of the night things that wakes you up as soon as it ends. I lay there replaying the thing in my semi-awakened state and thinking that I should maybe get up and type it out to possibly share here but sleep overtook before I could act. Would that I had but I can still recall the gist.

This particular dream featured only one character actor besides yours truly. And that character was none other that my old pal Gordon Bitner Hinckley.

It began when I answered the door and invited him in while striving to keep my composure. He was polite and cordial, quite unlike my prior real life meeting with the arrogant little then junior apasshole. I soon perceived that he was there to call upon his imagined powers of persuasion to bring me back into his erstwhile fold. Alas my memory has little recall of the exact words we exchanged but I remember how I kept wondering when he would refer to our prior meeting, the very one where he literally bestowed upon me a pearl of the greatest price, which was nothing less than full emancipation from a lifetime of sophistic soul slavery.

He never did actually bring that up but he did eventually realize his mission had failed and soon thereafter begged his leave.

After I saw him to the door I watched him sulk away and get into his car. I know I'll not soon forget the sight of him driving away in his suitably apostolic shiny new two-toned 1964 Rambler Ambassador Classic, I swear to God!

Well maybe not God but I still swear it's all true.

Is there anyone here with the gift of dream interpretation who can please tell me what the eff this one's really all about?

No dreams, but I do have a story about a 64 Rambler station wagon.

It was about 1968. My parents bought a Rambler station wagon for my older brother to drive to seminary. They did this so they didn't have to get up in the middle of the night and drive us to and from seminary 15 miles away.

It was November. We'd been doing the Rambler seminary run for a bit over 3 months. By now there were other kids riding with my brother and I. Six of us total.

On rare snowy morning when any one in their right mind would have kept their kids home (not my parents), we were on our way to school after seminary. There were icy ruts in the country roads. My brother had NEVER driven in snow. He got out of the rut and the car went over the road and into a ditch upside down. This was before seat belts were a thing.

The car settled, and I who weighed a whole 90 lbs. found a way to stand on the edge of the front seat and lift the door above my head a couple inches. I saw a guy I knew from school that was standing there just staring at us. In my state of shock and being disoriented, I told him to quit staring and get his ass over there to help us. He was the star of the football team, so I knew he was a lot stronger than I was.

He did as I demanded, and helped all climb out of the car. Lucky for us (oh the god damned blessings!) we were all ok. We left the car where it was and walked the half mile to school. My brother stopped at our house that was on the way, and let the rents know what had happened.

When all was said and done, nobody said a word about anything except for the fact that I had used a swear word. Were they fucking kidding??? My mother grounded me for a week because I said the word "ass". She apparently didn't give a shit that we weren't all dead or mangled. Nope, I'd said the word "ass". That was the worst part of that accident in the Rambler.

The Rambler was totaled. No big sadness. It was a horribly embarrassing car to be riding around in anyway.

You should have told your mom that one of the mysterious 3 Nephites came along and rescued you from certain death in a snowbank and that you were merely thanking for him for digging your ass from the mire.

Could be Gordo returning from the grave to haunt your dreams. He's really sorry for the mess he believes he made of your life and it's his lame assed attempt to correct it before you cross over to meet up again in paradise. Maybe your forgiving him is contingent to his soul reparation in the afterlife.

Clarence had to save George Bailey to earn his wings. Hinckley may have come to you on assignment in a vain attempt to earn his? He's got more to be sorry than you do. And an eternity to be feeling the pain.

Most dreams I chalk up to the subconscious. There are a few that go beyond that, and are signs given to us from the astral plane.

This is where Gordon BS Hinckley is going
and he is NEVER getting out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpYrmZDQMxU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KruSSqZ2TeQ

That is your mind attempting to reconcile the original pivotal event, which was very unpleasant and seemed like a huge beat down at the time, as the huge triumph for you that it really was after all of the MORmON expectations were finally really done away with. Your personal banishment of MORmON ideals and expectations was not easy, Gordon Hinckley represents those MORmON ideals and expectations ......and phoniness. That banishment was a veritable struggle, it was not easy and it did take some protracted time, but in the end Gordon Hinckley was rendered completely ineffective even though he and his nasty secret handshake social club criminal enterprise would still like to have their MORmON way with you. IN the end you prevailed and Hinckley has to ride off back into his MORmON kingDUMB with out you.

Was it really a 1964 (1963-64 edition) Rambler? which was actually a fairly smooth style car? especially compared to the previous over done editions from AMC.
http://www.amcrc.com/sc/1964-rambler-american-blue-2.jpg

Or was it the much more chrome adorned, angular, intentionally jagged and sharp edged and creepy looking 1961 -62 model?

https://assets.hemmings.com/story_image/41279-500-0@2x.jpg?rev=1

which would be much more in harmony with WEIRD creepy little Gordon BS Hinckley's weird MORmON style.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xphnhNopWUo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yCm4zFVIe0


Or better/ worse yet the super cheesy 1960 model. My uncle had one of these, station wagon no less. I remember it well. The front of this car actually looks like Hinckley's cheesy credit grabbing face, Marge herself said that Gordon had a personal penchant for "flair". Nothing says flair quite like horizontal tail fins !!!

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/63/04/ba/6304ba841c9325ef6042dbba0df19bba.jpg

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8b/1960_Rambler_4-door_pink_VA_ex.JPG

Shummy Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> That dreams are a most perplexing aspect of our
> human experience few of us would dispute.
>
> Those of us who have changed our basic beliefs no
> longer believe that dreams could possibly be
> zapped into our noggin from outside sources.
> Rather our nocturnal crypo-conscious calls from
> the erstwhile Sandman arise completely and
> exclusively from within our own brain. You alone
> are the scriptwriter, casting director, producer,
> set decorator and director as well as best
> supporting actor......all of which manifests
> instantaneously concurrent with each unfolding
> foray into pseudo-reality.
>
> Amirite?


Correct, Urite.


> That being said I shall attempt to share with you
> the most bizarre and at the same time hilarious
> dream I can recall having recently. I hesitated
> several days before deciding whether to share it
> here but I thought I should go ahead while I can
> still remember the essentials.
>
> The jarring thing about this particular dream is
> the perplexing question that has arisen as to why
> oh why would my sub-conscious little mind generate
> a program of such profound yet fictitious
> falderal? Hear me out and you'll see what I mean.

Yes, what you're referring to is known as a mindfuck.

> It was one of those in the middle of the night
> things that wakes you up as soon as it ends. I lay
> there replaying the thing in my semi-awakened
> state and thinking that I should maybe get up and
> type it out to possibly share here but sleep
> overtook before I could act. Would that I had butt
> I can still recall the gist.

Would that I had butt...hmmmmm....desire for sexual exploration...


> This particular dream featured only one character
> actor besides yours truly. And that character was
> none other that my old pal Gordon Bitner
> Hinckley.

Ah, unresolved psychological issues...


> It began when I answered the door and invited him
> in while striving to keep my composure.

This is important, you invited him for in, he did not barge in, but came to the door knocking as if a missionary seeking a convert...


> He was polite and cordial,

Societal norms are reflected in this detail...


> quite unlike my prior real
> life meeting

PTSD issues..


> with the arrogant little then junior
> apasshole.

Possible projection of the id...potential penis-trust issues...

> I soon perceived that he was there to
> call upon his imagined powers of persuasion to
> bring me back into his erstwhile fold.

Interesting detail...dream perception interpreting reality of the context although asleep...

> Alas my memory has little recall of the exact words we
> exchanged but I remember how I kept wondering when
> he would refer to our prior meeting, the very one
> where he literally bestowed upon me a pearl of the
> greatest price, which was nothing less than full
> emancipation from a lifetime of sophistic soul
> slavery.

Sophistic, WTF, I didn't know the subject was Greek, no matter...soul slavery...alliterative indication of PTSD symptoms of something the patient has denied exists--the soul--most fascinating....a Neoplatonist?...

> He never did actually bring that up

...sexual non-arousal evident, sheets dry...patient flaccid...

> but he did eventually realize his mission had failed and soon
> thereafter begged his leave.

Psychological projection...patient concerns about erectile dysfunction...(recommend boner meds)...


> After I saw him to the door I watched him sulk
> away and get into his car. I know I'll not soon
> forget the sight of him driving away in his
> suitably apostolic shiny new two-toned 1964
> Rambler Ambassador Classic, I swear to God!

"Two-toned 1964 Rambler Ambassador Classic..." suppressed feeling toward Romney family...(probe nature of feelings during next session)...

> Well maybe not God but I still swear it's all
> true.

...(singing), "Oh Say What is Truth..."...
>
> Is there anyone here with the gift of dream
> interpretation who can please tell me what the eff
> this one's really all about?

The patient has repressed PTSD for traumatic apostolic encounter after youthful indiscretions involving carnal knowledge. Patient is concerned about his age, non-resolution of apostolic issues with mildly-neurotic sexual fantasies consistent with a white middle-class male Mormon upbringing.

Prognosis excellent for full recovery. Recommend follow-up session with masturbatory therapy and sexual surrogate. Follow up with script for boner meds.

Please send $300 remittance to:

Dr. Cosmo Boner
EXMO Family Counseling Center
4325 West 3500 South
West Valley City, UT 84000



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/11/2017 02:17AM by BYU Boner.

Seriously, Shummy, he seems to be giving a final pitch to you. It happens without rancor. It's more like an echo than a voice, it seems. An impression being played back, maybe.

donbagley Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Seriously, Shummy, he seems to be giving a final
> pitch to you. It happens without rancor. It's
> more like an echo than a voice, it seems. An
> impression being played back, maybe.


What I really wanna know is Don........ how the fuck did he get my address?

Where is death thy sting?

Gordo came back to make amends and leave his peace offering.

He needed the closure and so did you.

Well ya know, truth be known, I think the reason I was waiting for him to acknowledge his summary dismissal of me and my delusional desires all those years ago was so that I could offer my sincerest thanks for his unintended gift but ya know he most likely wouldn't have a goddam clue what the fuck I was talking about.

Thanks for the freebie therapy Dr Bone.

You've cut to the heart of the matter and your compassionate counsel shall surely help me to get a big load off.

You really think maybe he was actually attempting to offer his amends?

Fat chance.

It's actually nothing more than the mere murmurings of a mormy-mangled mind I fear.

I like your take on things Smirk.

Now that you've brought it up it did look more like the 62.

As I said, it was two tone paint with mucho chrome.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/11/2017 03:34AM by Shummy.

Many dream researchers think they have good evidence to suggest that the "mechanism" of dreams is actually fairly simple:

While we sleep, our brains sort through the day's events, observations, feelings, etc. Deciding which ones merit "long term storage," and which ones don't. For those that do, a sort of shuffling takes place -- new memory engrams have to be put in among the billions already in place, sort of like fitting a new sweater on a hanger into an already crowded closet...you can't put the new one in without moving around a bunch of the others.

So putting the new ones in long-term memory touches stuff already in long-term memory, mostly randomly, "activating" them. And since our brains just love to try and weave coherent stories out of random stuff, dreams are just that.

One of your Gordo memory cells got bumped and lit up. Probably one about Ramblers. Others about leaving the church. And like those improv comedy shows where the actors are given random words, and then have to make up a routine including them, your story-liking brain went to work. Gordo and his Rambler doing what Gordo should do (mostly). In a contemporary setting.

So, unless evidence to the contrary ever comes up and is compelling, it appears "dream interpretation" is straightforward and simple:

It's just random stuff from the nether-regions of your memories being woven together. Your brain is doing improv. Enjoy the show :)

His knocking on the door and your choosing to answer is symbolic to me of the scripture when Jesus' comes knocking on the door to your heart. He gently knocks.

"Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Rev 3:20

Another thought occurred to me that the Rambler represents time travel from the past to the present, and that Gordy was on a "mission" to see you.

The past represents the church. The Rambler is extant. It belonged to Gordy's world and yours of yesteryear. Now it belongs to your distant past. You made a conscious choice to put him in his place. Instead of him giving it to you, you sent him packing this time around.

The last time you and he sat down together you were his guest. This time he was yours. I see it as an expression of you taking your power back. He has no more power over you.

Time has a way of putting things in perspective.



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 05/11/2017 10:41AM by Amyjo.