The Corpse Dream, again

I’ve had a variation on this dream off and on for a very long time but it hardly ever pops up these days. I actually thought until last night I’d not have it again. The basic premise is this: I have somehow killed someone and concealed the body. I never have the faintest idea who and I don’t see this body, but I know it’s there, all wrapped up or rolled up in a carpet or buried  or otherwise hidden. Usually the hiding places are woefully inadequate and my panic through the dream is that it will be discovered and I’ll be in trouble beyond imagining. I also often consider re-hiding the corpse somewhere more effective.

This morning, somewhere after about 4.30am, I dreamed I was about to be found out. I was going to where I knew I’d hidden this body(again unknown identity) with some others. In this case, it was at a garage-type lock-up storage unit and in the dream I knew I had simply left it wrapped up in black plastic and gaffer tape, lying in the open in the middle of the floor. The others( I’m not entirely sure who they were or why they were there) unlocked the door and went inside while I waited outside, waiting for the screams and shouts of alarm and horror. I knew it had been quite a while and the stench would be appalling and after afew seconds, people came out again, complaining of the terrible smell. There was nothing there that was otherwise horrifying; the body had vanished.

I had a sense of disappointment in the dream as I had felt a sense of relief at the whole thing being finally being discovered and the waiting for disaster to be over at last. I also had no idea where the body had gone or who had moved it; I had no sense that I had done it.

The dream then shifted to a butcher’s shop we used to know in the midlands. It was a proper old fashioned butcher’s that made their own sausages and mince and pies and so on and I’m trying to work the mincing machine. I am feeding a series of bones through the mincer but they’re coming out in chunks and not mincing at all. I’ve got rib bones at hand and suddenly one of the assistants comes in and is surprised to find me there out of hours. She adjusts the machine for me and I am able to mince very small all the bones I have waiting. I have no sense of what animal(or indeed person) the bones belong to but I do have a sense of guilt and deceit at being there.

I woke feeling somewhat distressed by both dreams(or the two segments of dream) and am still at a loss to understand them. For the record, I am certain I have never(intentionally or otherwise) killed anyone and hidden the body. Within this latest dream (and with the others too) I have always had a sense of having done it accidentally and then felt obliged to hide what I’d done, where in real life, I am pretty sure I’d own up instantly.

I’ve often felt hopelessly inadequate for most things my life has thrown at me, feeling as if I am performing a longterm con act and am surviving on pure luck not to have been found out and unmasked as a fraud or a show off who can’t really come up with the goods. Even my teaching is subject to this feeling, that I’m busking the whole time and can’t really do it at all.   

So who or what is this body I have spent so many years trying in my dreams to hide and why do I do it?

Self-doubt

I’ve just crawled out of bed an hour or two ago, after arriving home at 2.30am after a 25 hours shift. I was utterly knackered when I got in but actually I feel worse now, all muzzy and woozy.

But what makes it worse is the crippling self doubt that follows on the heels of any enterprise I undertake. The feelings that I might have messed up or not pleased, or got things wrong and not noticed. In the cold light of day, it was a good trip; nothing went wrong as such, no one got hurt, lost, robbed or otherwise inconvenienced. I think the teachers were so tired when I left them at their school at 11.30 last night that giving the humble courier any real feedback was beyond them; the leader thanked me and that ought to be enough. But I have to do these things almost in a sort of vacuum, because I haven’t ever seen anyone else do it; I’ve just had to make it up as I go along and I am terrified, no, PETRIFIED that I am somehow making a hash of it all and people are too polite/kind/reluctant to cause trouble to say anything. That was my fourth European trip; my boss is trying to make sure I get new groups where possible and she tells me she has every confidence in me. That ought to be enough. But it isn’t. As well as being worn out, I’m in a kind of inner agony in case I didn’t do as good a job as I want to do. I do this in my other job too; I worry that because the kids don’t greet me as their long lost friend that I’m not a good enough teacher.

I think I fear at a very deep level that on every level I am simply not good enough.

And I hate it. I hate the day after a party, an event, an anything because I wonder if I did OK. It’s kind of a need for approval (thank you J!) and because I have a very thin emotional skin, it all hurts.

I’m getting ready to go out to a barbeque with our Bee group this afternoon so at least I’ll have something to take my mind off it soon. But for a few days I will actually be worrying that there’ll be a letter arriving on my boss’s desk saying I was rubbish or worse, complaining I did things badly or not at all.

I do hope there isn’t any alcohol at the BBQ that I might actually like, because I feel like getting drunk and that really isn’t a great idea.