I had the following dream last night:
I was in a small, dark cell. There was an opening at the top, large enough for me to get a hand through. I had a toy dump truck, smaller than a matchbook truck, and there was a dish of water on the floor next to the opening. (The cell was under the floor.) I was able to reach through the opening and use the truck to scoop water up, so I could drink. I did this again and again.
I think the dream is about my life in a capitalist society. I have had enough money to get by, and I’ve been mostly comfortable — physically comfortable, at least. I can’t say that I’ve been especially trapped: I’ve mostly done what I wanted to, which was be a writer. But living in an unjust society is constraining, and there such a thing as a thirst for justice and freedom. As the wonderful song by Solomon Burke says, None of us is free, till all of us are free.
Naomi Kritzer’s comment on the dream:
It’s your subconscious telling you that you can survive a Republican Congress, but it will be very annoying.
Less bleak and maybe more true than my analysis.