Carl Jung is a Liar

I keep having this weird daydream where I am standing outside, and then I begin floating uncontrollably in the air. At first, the people around me freak out and try to catch me. But I’m too high to reach, so I just keep floating. After a few minutes, I can see every building below me. Then, even those become specks. Eventually, I am in space. Somehow I am able to survive without oxygen. I am also in a sort of drugged-out state that keeps me from being panicked about how irreversibly horrible my situation is. I just keep floating. It ends with me bellyflopping into the sun.

It is probably a metaphor for something. That’s what my mom would say. She likes to analyze dreams and stuff in accordance with Carl Jung’s work. We have all of his books in our living room. Ironically, school told me Jung’s work is pseudoscience (which I sort of agree with).

I think some dreams are important. The most important dream I've ever had was during the first semester of 7th grade. It fucked up my whole week. 

It started with me running from a hoard of raccoons in my neighborhood. It was dusk and the sky was a deep blue. I ran for miles, with the goal of getting back to my family. The raccoons nipped at my ankles while I ran. Eventually, I found my parents at a gas station. 

I ran into their arms and began sobbing. Somehow, while we hugged, there was a forcefield that kept the raccoons off. When I looked over my parents’ shoulder, I saw a shadowy figure next to a dumpster. All of a sudden, everything felt really wrong. My parents didn’t see the shadow man. He made me super angry. He fucked up my reunion.

Then, my eyes shut.

When they reopened, I was in a really nice hotel. It was still nighttime and one of the walls had a big window that provided a clear view of the moon. The middle of the room had a big bed, where my dad was sleeping. Next to him, also asleep, was the same shadow man. I could see his features. He was middle aged and lanky. 

I was still angry at him from our encounter at the gas station. I yelled at him to wake up. When he sat up on the bed, he groggily told me his name was Tim. I recognized his name, which replaced my anger with confusion.

He sat down with me in between the bed and the wall, taking both my hands in his. I can’t remember his exact quote but it was something about how he was my husband from the future, and he was stalking my dreams because he had to tell me something.

He starts crying and tells me that, in the future, we were married until I died of some disease. This was the point in my dream where it started feeling like reality. He told me that I only made it to half of my expected lifespan. I started sobbing.

I cried for a while with him, until his face began to distort. The dream was ending, and Tim had to leave. Great. The guy I supposedly spent my whole future with already had to go.

Tim went back to the bed where I found him. He fell asleep immediately. I went to the piano and played it for a little bit. Out the corner of my eye, I saw his hands playing with me. When I turned to face him, I woke up.

I was convinced the whole dream was a reflection of my read future. I went to school that day sobbing. I told my whole story to this random nonbinary person, explaining in detail how I am going to die young due to an undisclosed terminal illness.

So, I think dream "symbolism" is fake news. If a dream has to tell you something, it will just say it.