I frequently have dreams in which I am completely naked, sitting on a public toilet, in a stall with no doors. In the dream, there is always the imminent threat of people walking in and seeing me. And after waking, there is always a residual nervous-embarrassment that lingers into the morning.
My most persistent fears in life are, in no particular order:
- Settling to the point of stagnancy (life-wise, literal body-wise…I guess in all senses)
- Being embarrassed in any remotely public situation
- Things crawling up my butthole (especially while on unfamiliar toilets or asleep)
Plus the usual fears like rapist-murderers and ghosts who want to spoon with me in bed.
In these naked toilet dreams, the prevailing fear is surprisingly not creatures crawling into my dream butt. (“Dream butt” as in “the butt of my dream self,” not “the butt I dream of having,” which I guess would be best described as strong but approachable.) That fear isn’t even a thought in my Dream Head (Can you have thoughts in dreams? Are dreams just thoughts? Are you there, Christopher Nolan. It’s me, Mia.)
The prevailing fear is that people will see me.
This is a viable fear. Being naked on a public toilet is a situation that could be described as “vulnerable.” Perhaps more importantly, it is a situation that could be described as “unsanitary” at best and “an open invitation for communicable diseases” at worst.
Dream Me apparently has no regard for public health. She strips down to her flesh undercoat (the scientific term) and flings herself into public restrooms to hover above toilets anticipating the arrival of an audience. She bares her body and sits, waiting for the world to watch. She gets super naked and decides to pee in a public bathroom with no walls.
You know what’s theoretically even more terrifying than people seeing you pee naked? You being at a point in your life and mental state where you think getting completely naked and using a wall-less public bathroom stall is an okay thing to do.
But Dream Me is not afraid of that. She is confident and shameless – if only for a few fleeting moments. And admittedly more so than Awake Me.
Baring yourself is a scary thing. And if I’m continuing with the weird and terrible metaphor I’ve already set up here, I – shall we say – decided to pee with the door open a couple weeks ago.
I wrote this thing about how I don’t have a smartphone. It is not serious. It may not really even have a point. I put energy and thought into it, yes, but little more than, “I think I’ll write a silly thing about my phone.”
Well, surprise! The internet likes to feel feelings and feel them loudly. My piece got rave reviews like “ur not special” and “This is the new I don’t have a tv” and “Shut up, Mia.” A dozen people liked that last comment, so I guess I have to put in on my tombstone now.
I wouldn’t say the thing I wrote is a very vulnerable piece. I wouldn’t say I bared much of myself in it. There’s a picture with a dog that has a bucket on its head in it. Not really the makings of soul-baring literature.
Still, when something bears your name and words which came from your brain, it’s hard not to feel like people are passing judgement on something that’s part of you.
But when you decide to pee with the door open, you can’t expect passersby to only react with silence or applause. That’d be weird and frightening for an entirely different reason.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that there are scarier things than people not liking a part of you or even the whole of you. Things like hiding the pieces of yourself you want to share for fear of how they’ll be received and creatures crawling up your butthole.
I know this isn’t new or groundbreaking or even remotely as eloquent or beautifully lettered as that inspirational quote on your Pinterest board.
I suppose I wrote this mostly as a reminder to myself. And to you, if you need it.
To share and do and feel and be and take a big ol’ metaphoric piss with the door open sometimes.