I had this weird dream as a kid that, now, give me some leeway here as I explain it, the dream had Mickey Mouse on a cross surrounded by snakes.
And for some reason it only recently occurred to me how effed up I was as a kid to have this dream.
In my defense, it didn’t sink in with me as a kid that Mickey Mouse was on a cross in the dream.
What I understood of the dream, which was recurring, meaning, yeah, holy crap, I was really effed up, because I kept having this dream, was that Mickey Mouse was bound to a pole.
I first remember having this dream around the age of 3.
I swear I’m not the spawn of Satan.
I need to say here, I’m not a fan of Mickey Mouse.
I was always partial to the Bugs Bunny cartoons, even as a young kid, the more smartass the better.
Mickey Mouse, even then, came across as too saccharine for me.
So, Mickey Mouse wasn’t a stand-in for God for me or anything.
I wasn’t, and am not now, all that religious.
My parents were churchgoers.
I’m sure I’d come across some iconography by age 3.
Why Mickey Mouse on a cross, though?
And, the snakes?
A couple of other recurring childhood dreams got dredged out of me as I put myself through therapy over the past year.
One featured the voice of my paternal grandmother, who babysat me until I was 3, died when I was 4, and I unfortunately have no memory of.
I first had this dream with her voice when I was 10.
It should have soothed me, but instead scared the bejeezus out of me.
The other dream started around the same time.
In this third dream, I’m an infant, in a crib, and a woman – I assume my mom – comes into the room.
I’m on my back, feet up in the air.
There’s a light on above the crib.
That’s it.
I’m convinced this is more memory than a dream.
I’m sure the voice of my grandmother is also more memory than dream.
I hope Mickey Mouse on the cross isn’t any kind of memory, because if so …
Story by Chris Graham
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