Bridges and Dreams - Both take their toll, both lead us somewhere.

Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis and dream interpretation once said, "The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind".  Those of us who happen to subscribe to this theory have a tendency to pay a lot more attention to those dramas that play out nightly in our heads. We tend to remember our dreams more vividly and are curious to know more about just what it was they were trying to tell us.

Freud believed that what happens in your dreams is the subconscious representation of unresolved issues in your life. Sometimes our dreams seem disconnected and obtuse while other times their message seems more overt and obvious. Freud's studies have shown that through psychoanalysis and diagnosis of what ailed his patients he was able to tie the content of their dreams to things they are yet to resolve in real life. He postulated that all of our dreams can hold the answer to identifying our fears and inhibitions giving us the ammunition to stare them down and slay them once and for all.

Which brings me to this past weekend.

I've spent my entire life living in the Philadelphia area. One of the main bridges that connects center city Philadelphia with southern New Jersey is the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I cross this bridge quite frequently going to and from Philadelphia. For at least a decade or more this bridge has played a starring role in many of my dreams. The dream isn't always the same but there is always some conflict associated with me being on the bridge. Even more confusing is that I am never in my car but instead  on a bicycle, or on foot. (I think it's important to note here that you can cross the bridge both ways in real life but I've never tried either.) The dream conflicts have been any one of the following issues and many more. Once the bridge kept rising in height the closer I got to the middle until my head was in the clouds. Another was the bridge not having anything really firm under foot thereby dumping me into the river below. Most disturbing was finally getting to the other side and finding I'm in a strange place filled with threats wherever I turn and I can't figure out which direction provides the surest path to safety. Yeah I know...crazy huh?

This Friday night I'm out with my softball buddies and one of the guys suggests that Saturday afternoon we walk over the bridge into Philly, hangout in the city and make a day of it. Unbeknownst to him is my dream history with this bridge. Needless to say, I was immediately intrigued and accepted the invitation instantly. Finally, I thought to myself, I get a chance to explore this enigma head on without the filter of sleep to dictate the direction of the narrative.  Come Saturday afternoon at 2:00 pm sharp  me and two of my buds arrive at the stairs at the foot of the New Jersey side of the bridge. It was a cloudy day with a steady early spring breeze. The temperature was warm and a little humid with the threat of thunderstorms at any moment. How apropos I thought, as I stood face to face with the big blue iron Goliath.  As I climbed the stairs I glanced ahead at the walking path that seemed to go on forever as it disappeared into the horizon.  Just then the anxiety that's been so prevalent in my dreams began to tighten my chest and quicken my pulse. The people who run, walk or cycle this path every day may never understand what I was feeling. But then they've never had this bridge dump them into the river, shoot them through clouds or drop them off in never land as I have. Despite the jelly in my quads I took one step forward then another. Soon I was a third of the way up the bridge and still shaky but invigorated by the challenge, my buds just a few steps ahead. As we approached the center of the bridge the breeze got stronger and the skyline of the city looked close enough to touch. With each step I became more comfortable and began making stops to take photographs. Down on the river the  sailboats looked like toys, while the cars thundered by on the road just below us. As we began the descent of the final leg in to Philadelphia I felt incredible. I started thinking of Freud and all the books I've read over the years about dream analysis.  I began to wonder if I had once and for all exorcised this demon and eliminated these bridge dreams from my subconscious play list once and for all.  

Had I finally paid the toll both literally and spiritually? It's hard to say. This one is going to take some time to prove out. I'm guessing I've had the bridge dream about 5 to 6 times a year on average. The new clock started this Saturday night. If I go a whole year without one then I guess I'm on my way. You're just going to have to stay tuned if you want to know how this one turns out.

Oh, and did I mention, according to Freud, the bridge dreams may have nothing at all to do with any latent fear I had about walking across the bridge but something else entirely. In which case all I did on Saturday was burn a few extra calories which I immediately replaced by the cheeseburger, fries and two beers I had for lunch once we got to Philly. Oh brother.

Please stay tuned for more Musings From Studio 618 and if you like them please tell a friend.

All my very best.
Anthony