vogelein

Dream of: 10 January 2014 "New Clothes"



unravel the twisted threads of pride

I'm in Portsmouth and am getting ready to go to school. I remember that something special is going to be happening today at school so I decide to dress better than normal. I'm wearing a couple tee-shirts, but instead of wearing blue jeans and a tee-shirt, I decide to put on a pair of beige pants and a long-sleeved white shirt.

When I arrive at school, I'm met outside by a woman (around 60 years old) whom I know. She's well dressed and she compliments me on my attire today. I'm satisfied until she and I walk inside the classroom of 30-40 where everyone (all probably in their early 20s) seems to be dressed in brand new clothes. I'm surprised and intimidated by how well everyone else looks and I feel self-conscious about my clothing which isn't new. At least I'm glad that I didn't simply wear blue jeans and a tee-shirt.

The room actually seems more like a restaurant than a classroom and seems to be located in downtown Portsmouth. I sit down at a table with a couple fellows sitting across from me. I continue to feel self-conscious about my attire, especially when I notice that many fellows in the room are dressed in new suits. The two fellows across from me are wearing identical new bluish-gray sweaters. I wonder if they planned to dress that way or if they simply coincidentally bought the same sweaters. Then I notice that yet a third fellow wearing the identical sweater is sitting across from me.

One of the fellows is Babcock (whom I first met in 1967 when we attended 10th grade together in Portsmouth). I look intently at Babcock's face. I recall that I had become slightly acquainted with Babcock when we first met in high school, but we never hung around. I remember that he seemed to be in the upper echelon of Portsmouth society. I could have gotten to know him better and moved more into the upper society, but I hardly ever spoke to him through high school. I know his father was an optometrist and that he himself latter became an optometrist. He and the other two fellows all look snazzy sitting there in their new sweaters.

I wonder if anyone else in the room didn't dress up today, or if I'm the only one. I reflect that I wasn't even told that I was supposed to dress up today, so I wonder how everyone else knew. I feel shabby and I simply stay to myself without talking to anyone.

Everyone finally stands up and walks outside so we can head down the street to another location where something is supposed to happen. We walk on the crowded sidewalk in downtown Portsmouth. It seems as if everyone is dressed up in new clothes, a phenomenon very unusual for Portsmouth. Many females are walking along in their brand new clothes. It seems so strange for Portsmouth. Finally I do see one fellow wearing typical Portsmouth blue jeans. He's carrying a baby and seems to have his girlfriend or wife with him.

We arrive at a building which seems to be the old Columbia movie theater. We all walk in and stand in a line. My father shows up, stands right beside me, and looks me over. He seems to think I'm dressed acceptably, but he doesn't seem proud of the way I'm dressed. I wish I would have at least worn a tie. As I walk past a mirror, I notice that I'm still wearing those two old tee-shirts which can be seen around my neck under my white shirt. Now I really feel self-conscious. I think I might anyway slip into a restroom and take off the two tee-shirts. They really look shabby.

My father mentions something about some kind of pin which I'm apparently wearing on my shirt. I just wish this whole affair would end, but I'm stuck here now.

Dream Commentary

Although Dream Views specifically prohibits a profile-link to Facebook, numerous people on the Dream Journal web site link their profiles to Facebook. I do not know, however, of any of my fellow dream-writers who link their Facebook page to a dream journal. Surely there must be some other dream-writer on this planet who has thought of linking their Facebook account to a dream journal. Or is this a completely unchartered frontier?

These thoughts are brought to mind by the appearance of Babcock in this dream, someone whom I have not see in 43 years. A link to my dream journal from my currently shabby and dormant Facebook account would open up my dreams to the hundreds of people whom I have known through the years, many of whom would be surprised - dare I say startled - to see that they are still a part of my life. I can see how that would make me more self-conscious of what I write. Yet without pioneers, unchartered frontiers remain ... unchartered.

The 1948 painting above is by Frank Hunter and shows the exact area in Portsmouth, Ohio where I was walking in this dream. The Columbia theater marquee is on the left of the painting with the black letters on the white background.

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