When I say "dreams", I don't mean your hopes, ambitions or aspirations. I am talking about those things you have when you sleep.
It's not really that your dreams are dumb. They're not. They may be profound: TO YOU. But, they are so, *so* boring to the rest of us.
Let's all, as a society, agree that we will not tell each other about our dreams. I don't care that you were standing on a glimmering precipace made of quartz waving around a dead fish screaming the name of your ex-boyfriends. Don't ask me what it means. I don't know and I don't care. My day is already filled by trying to interpret my *own* dreams (and doodles), so leave me be.
Your dreams are boring. Really.
There are only TWO times where it's acceptable to tell someone about your dream. JUST TWO. They are:
1) If the person you're talking to was *in* the dream, it's perfectly acceptable to tell them about it. But remember that screenwriter saying about writing a scene: "Get in late; get out early." Meaning: just tell me the stuff about me and skip the rest.
2) Sex dreams are always fine to discuss. We'll listen to those. If there wasn't sex in your dream but you *must* tell someone about it: add some sex. Add lots of sex. Dirty, sticky, illegal sex. Do it. Sex sells.
TWO EXCEPTIONS. THAT'S IT. THAT'S ALL. NO MORE.
"But", Carol pleads, "I told this guy, Bob, at work about my dream and he thought it was *SO* interesting."
You were played, dear Carol. Played like a Scotsman's dress. Wait. That's "plaid." And it's not a dress, it's a "kilt." Whatever. Don't distract me, Carol: You were played.
Don't believe me? Let's roll the tape on it.
Ok, we're in the Coffee Room at work and there's Bob filling his Homer Simpson mug with the awful coffee that Marie from Marketing makes. Jesus, Marie, take it easy on the grinds will ya? Sheesh. Ok, Bob is putting in a Splenda, a little half-and-half. Now, here comes Carol...
Now, watch Bob's reaction when Carol from Accounting sighs and says, "Morning, Bob. I had the weirdest dream last night."
There! Freeze frame! Did you see Bob's reaction? Did you seem him pause for a second there? That pause was Bob thinking: "I really don't want to hear about Carol's lame dream but if I don't say 'really, what was it about?', she'll tell everyone in her department what a selfish prick I am and I'll never be able to get into that bookkeeper Sally's pants."
See? You ladies think that men are just "slow." Men are *not* slow. Men are careful. It's a chess match, dear. We plan our moves weeks and month's in advance.
So, Bob (being a man who has studied, since age 12 or 13, the Getontopov Gambit) forces a smile and asks "Really, Carol? What was it about?"
Now Bob just has to spend 5 or 6 minutes watching Carol's mouth move as he contemplates Sally's General Ledger. And Bob, always planning his next move, goes so far as to seem *interested* in Carol's dream! He nods in the right places and smiles on cue. (Men learn to do this without even having to hear the words. We. Just. Know.) Finally, Carol asks, "What do you think it means?" Bob simply has to say, "Gee, I don't know Carol. But you're right. That was weird." She nods. They laugh. Bob pauses skillfully, then: "Hey Carol? Is Sally in today?" Carol smiles and replies coyly, "Why yes, Bob, she is. You like her?" And Bob, boyishly, "Sure, she's really nice." Carol giggles, "I'll tell her you said hi."
Bob just *confided* in Carol after letting Carol blab on and on about her boring-ass dream.
Well plaid Bob. That nice-guy move will certainly get back to Sally. Well plaid indeed.
I repeat: Please don't tell us about your dream unless it follows rule #1 or rule #2. (A combination of said rules is extremely awesome, btw.)
One notable exception to my tirade:
You *may* blog about your dreams. Because your blog is YOURS, it's completely appropriate. We can choose to read it or not. In fact many of my favorite bloggers post about their dreams all the time. Which is great, I read each and every one of those dream posts...
...but I usually skim until I get to the sex.