I don’t often dream, at least of interesting things that I remember. I sometimes envy people who dream often; I’m intrigued by “lucid dreaming”, though my attempts have thus far been unsuccessful. I like dreaming and I like occasional “escapes” from the rational and normal world.

Earlier today I took what I think will be the last pain medication I’ll need for my kidney stone — which I’m about done with, by the way, thanks for the well-wishes, everyone. I’m glad to be finished with the meds because they make me extremely sleepy. It’s been hard to get anything done, even during times when the pain wasn’t very strong because I’ve been spending so much time sleeping. At least I got a chance (and an excuse!) to catch up on my rest.

While I was napping, I had a vivid dream, one which I’ve had in one form or another three previous times, to my remembrance. This is my only recurring dream in recent years; I’ve had a few others throughout my life, but I don’t have them anymore.

I first had this dream at the apartment we lived in before we moved into our house. In fact, this is the first time I’ve dreamed it since we’ve moved, and I had even thought that it likely wouldn’t return because of the change of setting.

That apartment had a sliding door in the back with a vertical lock, the type that lots of places have leading to a backyard or a patio. Like many of those types of doors, it was very common to slide it closed and push the lock up but discover that it was still unlocked — one had to always check it to ensure that it was actually locked, often having to try again, holding the door tightly closed that time.

This apartment was not in the best of neighborhoods, judging by the frequency with which police helicopters hovered low above (and a few times directly overhead), spotlights shining down looking for someone.

It is these two themes that recur in these dreams: imminent danger from some usually unseen but doubtlessly dangerous criminal who will seek sanctuary in my home (it’s only a matter of time, with the police right overhead) and an inability to get the door to lock to protect myself from this danger. This is a terrifying situation because it puts one right where one doesn’t want to be — exactly where the dangerous person is going to be soon. The fear is honed because of the taunting and frustrating feeling of being so close to being in a “safe place”. If only the lock would catch.

(Of course, occasionally the lock does catch to my great relief. And then, of course, I decide to check it one last time to make sure.)

In the worst of these dreams, I’ve even been able to see the person or persons approaching, but in a way that would only seem reasonable in a dream: they were always approaching (getting closer every time I looked up) but never actually reaching the door. One of Zeno’s Paradoxes, only scarier.

Today’s version involved a strange twist: there was a sliding door in back and a regular bolt-locking door in the front. It also failed to easily lock, a trait of the front door at our new place during the hottest summer days. This added one more dimension to it — our two children, who are always present in these dreams, could no longer be positioned “safely” behind me. What to do? My choice in the dream was to frantically run back and forth trying each one alternately, hoping that I could get at least one to lock, halving the chance of an intruder finding easy entrance, at least buying a bit of time.

The whole thing seems a bit curious because I’m not a person who thinks much about crime at all. Physical danger from crime is mostly irrelevant to my day-to-day life and not something I ever dwell on. An example: once at the apartment when police helicopters were near but not right above us, I ventured out to have a look around. Yes, foolish, I know. No sooner had I walked outside than the helicopter rose above the nearby trees and shone its spotlight directly on me. I couldn’t decide whether to run back inside (and look suspicious) or just stand there and wait to be apprehended by either the cops or the bad guy. I think I just scratched my head and walked nonchalantly (“There was a helicopter just a hundred and fifty feet away shining its light on me? No, I guess I didn’t notice.”), and with no sudden movements, back inside.

So what does it all mean? A subconscious fear, of crime/criminals/the Other, needing to be expressed? Perhaps the lock symbolizes machines (computers?), often helpful but also the source of much misery? Or social anxiety, perhaps — feeling safe, if I could just get this one more little thing in place to help barricade myself from the outside world? I don’t really feel like any of those are accurate. Maybe it’s just scary having helicopters flying around nearby, looking for perps.

Do you have any recurring dreams? What do you think about them?