In this dream, my sub-editor, Murdo, came to see me at my desk to tell me about a dream that he'd had. He'd written down the dream on a page he'd torn out of the Yellow Pages. It went like this:
There's a girl on a train. She arrives at a station where she waits for another train. On that train, she eats a sandwich. She gets on another train.
Murdo wanted to know whether I agreed that the dream would make a brilliant film. Oddly, I did. It had everything that a fantastic screenplay requires. Murdo got quite excited and said that it would be important that the film conveyed the almost unbearable sense of sadness that he'd felt when the girl ate the sandwich. I agreed that that would be great and then told him about Freud's theory concerning dreams in which strong emotions attach themselves to seemingly inappropriate events. The theory would suggest that the sandwich was a stand-in symbol for something about which Murdo genuinely felt unbearable sadness. Murdo was quite pleased with that idea and thought that that could be in the film as well. Perhaps the girl could be reading Freud on the train.
Notes for Freudian Analysis
The only time Murdo has come to see me at my desk recently, we talked about the house that some friends and I rented on Eigg, of which I have a postcard on my desk. I gave him the website address of the person who rents it out as he was thinking about going to somewhere in the isles for hogmanay. The night I had the dream, I had talked to most of the rest of the people who had been with me in the house.
Murdo used to be in a punk band. He writes songs, so why not films? Apparently, my subconscious sees no difference between the two activities.
I use sheets of paper torn out of the Yellow Pages to polish etching plates before taking a print from them and, that day, I had used many more than usual as I was printing a plate that I had etched very badly. I'd been very demoralised. Why am I still so bad at printmaking?
I had dropped into work briefly during the afternoon (I'm on holiday). While I was there, I tried to convince a colleague who was reading a book by Jung that she'd be much better off reading the Freud book that I had left on my desk. I don't know much about Jung, but I doubt that his books have as many dirty stories as Freud's do.