NOT QUITE A NIGHTMARE

The mind plays funny tricks on us. Sometimes it seems to delight in tormenting us, as is the case with the kind of nightmare I had last night. Though actually what should have been a nightmare did not quite feel like one.

I am a long-time acrophobe. I first discovered how severe the affliction could be only later in life, at the top of the campanile in Florence, when I was seized with sudden dizziness and panic, and found myself clinging to the wall, as far as possible from the edge. But I do not remember having experienced this feeling as a child. Indeed, I remember distinctly standing at the parapets of St. Botolph's Church in Aspley Guise, where my father was Rector until I was twelve years old, looking far out over the flat lands of Bedfordshire.

No matter, there was this nightmare. I was close to the top of a tall building, a skyscraper, outside, where a stepped pyramid let on up to the very top. I do not remember how I got there--an unlikely event in real life. With me were two children and two adults, both men, if I remember right, at least one of them powerfully built. The steps were built in such a way that you could see through from one side to the other, and the idea was somehow to look through this gap and see the person on the other side. We were all climbing these steps, one by one, toward the top, and I was worried about the children--though they seemed to be playing quite happily.

The ascent did not seem as terrifying as it might have done, but I was very conscious of the importance of not looking down. More worrisome was the idea of the descent, which I imagined would be far more difficult. I knew I would have to ask for the help of the powerfully built man, and rely on him to support me. The dream ended at this point--I think before I had brought myself to ask this favor and risk showing my foolish weakness.

Does the dream have to do with aging? With the fear of having to rely on others for support? It is, after all, my birthday tomorrow. The children were playing, I note, "happily." And the "powerfulness" of the other man was clearly an important quality. If, as I have heard, every character in a dream is a projection of one's self, it's kind of a nice dream, with the manifestation of all stages of my life at the top of the tower. I note, too, that I did not actually feel dizzy or in panic. It was more the sense that I would normally, in such a circumstance, have those feelings. Interesting, too, that the dream ended without a conclusion. I had not yet brought myself to ask for what I thought I would need.