alligator pie

Alligator pie, alligator pie,
If I don’t get some I think I’m gonna die. 

Dennis Lee, 1974

I woke up the other morning with this poem in my head. It’s because of a dream I had.

We were living still at the old place on Wilson St. and Dad had gotten an alligator for the back yard. I watched the alligator in the back garden, rolling around in corn cobb and swimming in a very small pond. And when I approached the back door, it charged me. I told my dad how unhappy I was about it – called him crazy. And then I woke up.

Freud theorized that dreams are an expression of what you’re repressing during the time you are awake. Jung believed that dreams provide messages about “lost” or “neglected” parts of our selves that need to be reintegrated. What the hell do those things even mean?! And, of course, there is a plethora of “what dreams mean” – go ahead, look it up on the internet. Waste your money if you buy books.

I dream. I have weird dreams. But linking them to what these two blokes think or meanings behind dreams is beyond stupid. There is no secret meaning. They just are. Yes, things we read and experience may influence our dreams. One of my biggest fears is that my birds will escape our home. I’ve dreamt many times about the escape of my beloved feathered flock.

In this case I believe the dream was influenced by watching Indiana Jones Temple of Doom – the scene of the wooden/rope bridge across a deep gorge. Other than that, I can’t link it to anything.

Very interesting where the mind takes us.