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Dear Dr. Shill, I had an awful dream the other day and am desperate for answers. In it, I put rat poison in some mashed potatoes I made to go with a dinner I cooked for my mother (who moved in with me a couple of years ago once she became too old to take care of herself properly). After taking one bite of the potatoes mom refuses to eat any more, citing the terrible taste. Suddenly infuriated, I begin screaming at her to clean her plate, threatening to Slit her throat from ear to ear if she doesnt do so, causing her to fall face forward into the potatoes, dead from fright (a stroke or something, I guess). And as if that wasnt bad enough, I then cook mothers heart and eat it, and when I have my next bowel movement a bunch of little eggs come out and hatch lizards which I buy an aquarium for and make my pets. Please Dr. Shill, any insight would be very much appreciated! Horrified in Houston Dear Horrified, Dear Dr. Shill, My girlfriend and I recently had a pair of what I think were synchronized dreams, only she doesnt know it due to the content involved and my nervousness about it. In my dream I was in a waiting room waiting for the results of an HIV test for hours and hours when I realized somehow intuitively that when a test is positive (in the dream anyway) doctors will keep you waiting a long time hoping youll leave so they dont have to tell you to your face. Meanwhile, that same night my girlfriend told me she dreamt I gave her HIV from cheating on her with prostitutes. Now Ive never been with a prostitute, but I was a heroin addict for a couple of years (which my girlfriend knows nothing about), and am wondering whether these dreams might suggest that its a good idea I get tested for HIV. What do you think? Nervous in New York Dear Nervous, Dear Dr. Shill, The other night I dreamt that I was a soldier in the Vietnam War fighting Charlie for some muddy, blood soaked hill. Instead of being armed with a rifle or some other practical weapon though, Im carrying an electric guitar which I point at the enemy whenever I see him and play a chord, usually while shouting some incoherent gibberish, to absolutely no effect. Charlie keeps coming, firing his rifle, cutting my fellow soldiers and friends all around me to pieces. Finally I find a real gun and intend to get my revenge, but when I go to load it I find a letter from my girl back home in the ammunition clip telling me shes dumping me for a guy who works in a soap factory and I get so sad that I cant fight anymore and just lie down behind a tree. What do you make of this Dr. S? Puzzled in Pensacola Dear Puzzled, |
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