More dream stuff

Last night's dream was as if I was embedded within an episode of one of the early seasons of Sex and the City. Carrie was wearing ballet shoes at one point, which I took particular pleasure in noting for some reason, and Miranda was dealing with an unfaithful lover. Samantha drove us in a big car to Miranda's to cheer her up and I remember thinking we had to be in New Jersey or something because we were passing by neighborhood-y things like gas stations and elementary schools, and Miranda's apartment building was like one you'd see in Portland: made of brick and only a few stories tall. Come to think of it, it was as though I was the Charlotte character - which is likely because I often felt she was the most like me (and I don't know how to explain that because when I really think about it there more ways I'm not like that character).

Anyway.

Tonight's meeting at the Friends of Jung society made me realize my dreams are, for the most part, completely unhelpful if I'm counting on them to help me make some great discoveries about myself that will then lead on to a greater understanding of humanity in general, the meaning of life, and, you know, stuff. The lecturer was describing a dream that Jung described, and it was full of these archetypal images that really helped one understand the thing underneath and behind what you register with your conscious eyes. Meanwhile, I'm having a dream about a party at Miranda's house that eventually devolved into drunken declarations of love among the girlfriends in a bathroom and dancing in the alley adjacent to the apartment complex while slurping down frothy drinks with umbrellas through long, thin straws.

At least my subconscious has a sense of humor. I mean, what else could this kind of thing be but some kind of joke?