I have deeply paranoid dreams about public toilets and huge, maze-like hotels. Recently, the two combined forces in a dream that had me trying to find my room, racing against a deadline, and dealing with terrible public toilets, as well. That’s just not fair! If one of those nefarious squirrels from another bad dream had made an appearance, I probably would not have survived to whine about it all.
I used to ask people if they have public toilet dreams. Too many people drew away as if to escape the fearful darkness that they must have thought emanated from my being, so I quit asking. But I know I’m not the only one. Just Google “toilet dreams” and see what I mean.
Some of my classics? A row of stalls with the doors cut so high that as you sit, you’re exposed from the waist down. An outhouse lying on its back, so you have to lie on your back to go. (Think about that for a second. Gross, eh?) A huge bathroom built like a stadium, with toilets in ascending rows, and no privacy anywhere.
The literature on the subject (and by literature I mean Google hits) says that toilet dreams indicate feelings of embarrassment and vulnerability. Thank you, Captain Obvious.
The maze of hotel rooms stems, I’m certain, from my inability to find my way around in the world. Coming out of a restaurant bathroom I’ll turn the wrong direction every time. Before the invention of GPS I knew only one way to get somewhere. Or maybe not even that. One memorable time prior to cell phones I was trying to drive from one mall to another without going to “home base” first. No matter what I did, I’d end up where, instead of the road I swear showed on my map, I’d be facing a lake. After three tries, I found a payphone, called John and said, “You’re going to have to move the house. I can’t find you.”
Any recurring dreams in your life? And all you public-toilet-dreamers, I know you’re out there!