The royal road to the unconscious
The title is a doffing of the proverbial cap to Sigmund Freud who called our dreams the “royal road to the unconscious”. His idea being that our dreams were shaped by experiences in our childhood, which psychoanalysts could use to reveal our childhood miseries, and thereby cure our inner torment.
Which is all very nice, but a bit too dry and dusty for my tastes.
I think it must be the time of year, the fact that you can actually feel Autumn beginning its onset, but I have been having conversations with a number of friends about our/their dreams. Not the stuff that psychoanalysts get all excited about, but the aspirations we had when we were younger and why none of us seemed to have done anything about them. Suggesting that these conversations are the product of our imminent crash into mid-life-crisis’dom doesn’t win you many friends - go figure!
The outcome of these conversations? Bit of a mixed bag really, and nothing you could, or should, base an ethos on. Mostly that; when you are younger life seems to stretch out in front of you and you have plenty of time to deal with those dreams later on, after a healthy bit of hedonism. Unfortunately at some point you blink and find yourself married, with kids, a mortgage and more responsibilities than you can shake a stick at!
The dreams you had now become an object of regret, instead of something still to aspire to. A number of friends are dealing with this in different ways; from the “sod it, i’m going for it anyway!” to the ”it was only a dream, I was a lot younger..” more grown-up attitude (their words, not mine).Â
Unfortunately, the nature of some of those dreams have a more acidic impact on our “today” life and would probably mean giving up more than we ever envisioned.
Me? For the moment I am taking the path of escapism! It has been more years than I care to mention since I passed my Motorcycle test and had twatted around on a motorbike (‘twatted’ being the appropriate verb, as I had more accidents during that period than at any other point in my life!). However a rather good friend of mine, in the hope that I am tempted to buy it, has lent me a bloody great beast of a bike and is allowing me to once more forget about my “today” life and escape into the moment.
Helmet down, iPod set to heavy metal, flick the electronic ignition, feel 1000cc’s between ya legs (no rude comments!), slip the clutch and roar off at a frightening rate of knots… bliss! For a small while you are back to the teenager you were, no responsibilities and the road ahead is open to make of as you will.
What a dream!
