In Your Dreams | September 2024
A DREAM COLUMN
It’s September, and we’re back for more of a little game we like to call, “What the hell was this dream about?” That’s where you, dear reader, write in with said dream, and we do our best to highlight various nebulous metaphors one’s brain might be working with. It’s not an exact science, but we forge ahead. This month, what can we learn about ourselves from interior design?
In this dream, I’m in my apartment, and even though it doesn’t look like my apartment in real life, I’m familiar with it like it’s mine. At one point, I’m walking down a hallway and there’s a door I’ve never seen before. It opens into an enormous and beautiful bathroom. It has a giant tub, a fancy Japanese toilet, and even a sofa. It is the literal bathroom of my dreams, but does it have a greater significance?
Let’s think about the apartment as a projection of you since it’s technically all your mind’s creation in there. It’s like your brain gave you an Architectural Digest tour of your unconscious, and each room represents a piece. A dream in a living room might represent comfort in your life, social relationships, or who you choose to bring into your space and why. Dining rooms suggest formality, but also a gathering together. Kitchens are about feeding yourself, literally and non-literally. Bedrooms are, famously, where the magic happens, (See: Any episode of Cribs on MTV, 2000-present(!)), but they are also where we retreat and rest.
Which brings us to your unconscious’ room of choice, the bathroom. The loo, the john, the WC, whatever you want to call it, a bathroom is the site of, ahem, elimination, but that doesn’t seem to factor in much here, aside from an enviable throne. (The Japanese know what they’re doing, folks.) Overall, it sounds like you built yourself a sanctuary that is concerned less with the toilet, and more with the toilette, meaning all the ways you groom, bathe, and generally tend to your hygiene and appearance. It’s self-care, really, and this is a temple for it. Case in point: the sofa, a feature that we’re choosing to picture as elegant and sanitary in this fantasy realm. To have a place to rest in the restroom is a luxury usually reserved for Nordstrom’s and the middle school bathrooms of legend. It’s the sort of apocrypha that gets passed down from older siblings, something two Kevins might whisper about as they pass the girls’ bathroom on the way to P.E.: “Did you know there’s a couch in there?” And the legend continues…
But back to real, adult life. We’re curious about your relationship to your toilette (we’ll stop saying it now). Do you enjoy your routine, or does it annoy you? Do you have a 41-step skincare regimen, or are you the quick-splash-of-water-and-go type?
Dream analysts say that finding a new room equates to discovering a new side of yourself, and in this case, you discovered the Narnia of lavatories
Is there anything you’d like to do differently? We noted that this is an unfamiliar room to you. Dream analysts say that finding a new room equates to discovering a new side of yourself, and in this case, you discovered the Narnia of lavatories. It’s interesting. Are you exploring new interests, or trying to take better care of yourself? Are you thinking about posting some Get Ready With Me content?
These days, the rituals of self-care have been co-opted by popular culture, which means they usually come with a price tag, and are focused on appearance. And no shame about giving in to that, either. We must find joy where we can, and sometimes joy resides in a serum made of snail mucin. We’re conditioned to buy things to improve ourselves as a little treat. But maybe it’s more useful to orient this dedicated me-time toward expressing love for the self, connecting with the body, and calming the nervous system. That’s more sustainable, more nourishing, and accessible at any price point. Play some music. Give yourself a li’l scalp rub. Stretch. Moisturize. And do it with love. It feels silly at first if you’ve only performed your toilette (last time, swear) as a list of perfunctory tasks, but acting tenderly toward oneself in private moments are small gifts that add up.
Also, wear sunscreen. Everyone needs to be wearing sunscreen now, sorry. Find one you like.
If you’ve ever woken up from a dream like, what the hell was that?, and would like to be featured in the next In Your Dreams, contact us at dreams@lunya.co with a detailed description of the inner workings of your unconscious mind. We're dreaming of hearing from you.
