I have a lot of dreams that involve going into a bathroom then not having any privacy. Either a bunch of toilets are in one big area/room or there are no doors on the stalls.
In one recent dream, just as I went into a stall, the door changed into a shower curtain and the upper part of the stall became the rod for the shower curtain, while the metal walls that made up the stall, disappeared.
In these dreams there’s always a line of people at the door and they are streaming in, or there are groups of people inside the bathroom itself. Or if there weren’t a bunch of people inside the bathroom already, as soon as I go to use a toilet, they suddenly appear, taking away any privacy I had.
I see the lack of privacy. But I’m updating this on 10/27/16
It was originally written on 9/30/15.
I spoke to a therapist about this recurring theme and he mentioned that it pertains to the potty training period in childhood. But how that fits I have not been able to figure that out. And the therapist didn’t elaborate leaving me to think he wasn’t clear either. I think he needed to know more about me before being able to interpret this running theme in dreams for me.
But in looking it up and not really feeling satisfied with what I found, the thought of feeling vulnerable and exposed came to mind. These dreams started long before I started blogging though, so even if it does pertain to a feeling of vulnerability and exposure by blogging, it’s more than just that.
I would have to remember what was going on in my waking life first I guess, before figuring out what I felt vulnerable about when having this sort of dream.
There could also be more to it, but I’m not coming up with anything at the moment. However, this did bring up some lack of privacy issues I had in my family home with my father. See below:
As a teen, my father would just open my bedroom door without knocking. The older I got the more frustrated I got about this.
When he’d barge in, I’d ask him to stop and to please knock from now on.
More than once he responded with, “It’s my house, I can walk into any room I want.”
Other times when my timing was right and I would catch him at a time he was thinking more reasonably, he’d agree. But when the opportunity presented itself he’d knock, not wait for a response and just open the door.
When that happened I asked again and specified that he also wait for an answer. Just writing about this now feels crazy making. It helps me see what an entitled POS this man could be. I felt tormented when it came to the things he felt the need to control. I mean who needs to explain to a grown ass man that when you want him to knock that he should also wait for a fucking response to be sure it’s OK to enter.
God forbid he allow his teen age daughter some privacy. That would mean relinquishing some control. I get so angry at him even now for that teenage girl.
Trapped was how I felt in that household. I could never put a word to it before. And it explains a lot of why my relationships failed on my side. The feeling of being trapped results in wanting to escape and this manifested in pushing people away. But with my father it resulted in me continually trying to get his permission and approval. And to get him to hear and understand me.
The door to the bedroom I had in my adolescence (we lived in a few different houses) had a lock on it but I wasn’t allowed to lock it. When I did lock it and he tried to walk in, he’d bellow from the other side, “OPEN THIS DOOR.”
When I did he’d seethe, “Don’t ever lock this door again.”
Periodically I’d lock it anyway.
When I asked “Why not?” He replied, “Because it’s the type of lock that if anything happened to you on the other side of the door while it was locked, I wouldn’t be able to get to you.”
Even as a teen I knew this was bullshit. And he used that made up reason each time he found it locked when I’d have the guts to rebel, which wasn’t too often because I was afraid of his reaction.
It was one of those little button locks that sat underneath and to the right of the door knob. These can’t be unlocked from the outside and there is no key. However, the door was a hollow core door. My father, who was more than 6 feet tall, in his early 40s and of average build, would have had no problem whatsoever breaking down that door, if it was ever even necessary.
The man had serious boundary issues along with those control issues.