Persephone Under the Dream Sea
When I was a youngin of about 4 or 5, living in the frozen tundra of Buffalo, NY, (Hi, Lisa Klossner! ) I developed an inexplicable crush on Jacques Cousteau.
I dreamed that I went to live with Mssr. Jacque under the sea, but we had to break up because I could not abide by the giant fish that kept creeping up on us while we were enjoying our underwater playground and singing French songs.
Also, I refused to eat any of the polka-dotted chicken fish he kept trying to feed me. In hindsight, I think I saved myself from an oceanic Persephone scenario. I had this same dream repeatedly for several years.
Could this be why I’ve ended nearly every male/female relationship I’ve had? The thrill of an escape to freedom? I’ll not eat your pomegranate seeds or your polka-dot chicken-fish, Monsieur!
Hmmm. I blame the French Canadian tv I was exposed to at a tender age. All that Chez Hélène, sorrowful art films from The Children’s Foreign Film Festival, and repeated viewings of Jacques’ Undersea World apparently took a toll.
It could have been worse. At least I wasn’t made to watch Hee Haw or The Lawrence Welk Show.
Do you have any dream stories to share?