Kane Kaiman is a graduate of Cedarburg High School. There, he scored a 5 on his AP Psychology test, giving him the authority to interpret the dreams of all humans and some of the earth’s more intelligent mammals. He can dream in over a dozen languages.
This week’s dream:
“I was an astronaut, and I was getting ready to go into space. I was in a room—a locker room—with the other astronauts, and I was putting on my suit. I put on my helmet, and we walked out of the room, down a tube and into a rocket. We got in our seats in some kind of control room and then the countdown started. The lead astronaut said, “I hope this works,” which freaked me out. It was really scary, like climbing to the top in a roller-coaster car. The whole place was shaking. Then we launched and went into the sky and finally into space. I wasn’t scared anymore, and then we all started floating around. It was really cool to be weightless. That’s all I can remember.”
—Brandon Feld, senior
One hundred percent accurate interpretation:
“Space: The final frontier.”
It seems glamorous, doesn’t it? Well, it can be a real nightmare.
You’ll never read this in any government report, but NASA sent me up to the International Space Station in 2001. They said the astronauts were having trouble coping with the isolation, and there were reports the Artificial Intelligence onboard was acting strangely. I was intrigued. Up to that point, I’d only counseled humans and a few dolphins, never a highly sophisticated, self-aware computer.
They dressed me up like the Pillsbury Doughboy, gave me a pat on the ass and shot me into space.
The astronauts were all having the same recurring dream. For 78 straight days, the crew members envisioned going on a dangerous spacewalk to fix a solar panel. The rest of their work grinded to a halt as they began to compulsively check the status of all 264,000 solar cells lining the wings of the station.
On one particularly disturbing occasion, I asked the Canadian astronaut what he wanted for dinner.
“Solar panel,” he replied with a lunatic grin.
After psychoanalyzing ISAAC, the AI system, I suspected that he was to blame. I monitored the crew members in their sleep pods and discovered that ISAAC had been delivering shocks to their bodies late at night, stimulating the dream centers of their brains.
When the computer reported a broken solar panel the next day, the crew members scrambled to get their spacesuits on.
I didn’t let them outside. That’s just what ISAAC would have wanted.
Laser gun in hand, I forced the astronauts into straightjackets.
Ignoring ISAAC’s monotonous voice over the intercom (“What are you doing, Kane? Kane, I’m afraid.”), I made my way to the control room and shorted his circuits, saving the day.
But, hey, find me a self-respecting dream interpreter who hasn’t done something like that.
Anyway, your dream is pretty straightforward.
The rocket launch is a metaphor for your abrupt transition to the working world after college graduation.
The part where the captain says, “I hope this works,” is very telling. Like most kids your age, you’re nervous about your future. In a world where college graduates struggle to find jobs, you’re worried about how your resume is going to hold up.
The fact that you’re dreaming about being an astronaut is a flashback to your childhood.
I’d be willing to bet that when Mrs. Francis asked you to finger-paint what you wanted to be when you grew up, you drew a space man.
Why not make your childhood dreams a reality?
The brainwaves in REM sleep are nearly identical to the brainwaves during the day. It’s almost as if you already have one launch under your belt, which would put you way ahead of the curve.
Do you have a dream you want Kane to interpret for you or someone you know? Send him an email at kaiman@wisc.edu for his absolutely 100 percent factually accurate advice.
