I had a dream the other night.
And as with all dreams it seems, you hardly ever know how you arrived at a certain place, you just 'show up' there right in the middle of some scene trying to figure out what is going on. Most of the time, this is very dissatisfactory.
Anyway, I found myself plopped into a large room with people on the edges of it, setting up tables for what seemed like an impending lecture or something, and I was early. I found my way into a corner where there was a man in a three-piece suit and very well polished shoes, sitting with an open portfolio in his lap who gave the impression that he was in full possession of the purpose of this meeting.
I, being a disoriented introvert in a dream, decided to sit down next to him. Something my fully conscious self would never do in the waking world.
As I did, I realized that I was juggling the most bizarre collection of pieces of paper in all sizes and colors with notes written all over them in various colors of ink. There were envelopes, pieces of manilla cardstock that had been torn off a larger sheet, small scraps of crumpled newsprint, full sheets of high-quality cream laid paper, you name it. I was trying without much success to bundle them into some kind of order, but they refused to cooperate.
As I shuffled them around, I looked down to see what I had written on them, and as is often the case in my dreams, the writing would not 'focus'. It looked like gibberish. 'Lorem ipsom' text.
What's that you say?
"Lorem ipsum is a dummy or placeholder text commonly used in graphic design and publishing."
Turns out it that is a corruption of some damn fool Roman called Cicero who shuffled Latin words around to make them nonsensical.
This of course fit right in with my dream sequence, because there was nothing sensical about any of it.
As I tried to tidy my rebellious pile of indecipherable papers, I decided to mask my toe-curling introversion by asking the man next to me, "Do you think I might be suffering from hypergraphia?" As I lifted my slippery papers toward him, while watching one mutinous scrap drift to the floor.
It was a futile attempt at humor.
He glanced at the disarray in bored condescension and said, "Your opinions on these matters are too narrow."
To say I was taken aback, would be an understatement. First off, I was amazed he could actually READ the Lorem Ipsum from the damn fool Roman on those papers and then make such an instant and derogatory evaluation of them. I found myself jealous and insulted by turns.
How could he come so quickly to such a conclusion about this mass of incoherence?
I decided he had no idea what he was talking about and I looked up to see if the lecture was any closer to beginning, but alas, it was a dream, so something in my subconscious decided it had had enough of this craziness and moved on to some other occupation, abandoning me in the pixelating disintegration of the whole incoherent drama.
Leaving me with the Freudian ... no, let us throw ourselves on more compassionate shores, Jungian question of ... what does this dream MEAN?
A question that I will most likely never have an answer for.