From the ancient Greeks to modern philosophers, people have been interpreting dreams and nightmares as divine messages or representations of subconscious fears or desires. As important figures like psychiatrists Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung have made dream interpretation a legitimate study, the Internet today is full of blogs and guides to unlocking the secrets behind what we think about when we sleep.

Singer Kaki King has had her fair share of strange dreams— and, appropriately enough, her new release is titled Dreaming of Revenge. The nimble-fingered Atlanta native, who has been lauded by Rolling Stone as a “Guitar God” and even nominated for a Golden Globe for her music in the standout film Into the Wild, has been on an extensive U.S. tour promoting her newest album, so it’s surprising to think she ever gets any sleep. However, whether it’s time caught snoozing on a tour bus or crashing in hotels, King recently shared one of her off-the-wall recurring dreams.

In an effort to delve into the definitive meaning behind her dream, psychoPEDIA invited a professor and dream analyst, who will remain anonymous as I.E. Statement, to better understand her subconscious:

KK: I keep having this recurring dream on this tour--I'm a German fighter pilot in World War II and my name is Gunter von Shiphol, but I'm not a Nazi! I'm just a pilot, and I have to dogfight with the RAF, but really I'm trying to get to the North Pole. I'm flying this crazy plane, but I can’t seem to fly very fast. I'm dodging bullets but losing altitude, and I look in the back of my plane and I see all the gear that I have with me on this tour— all the amps and everything. Then, I wake up.

IES:Paradoxically, Kaki does dodge her acknowledged freefall with a pilot’s emergency landing expertise. She is well acclimated to this reoccurring dream’s scenario and utilizes her maneuverings within to be energy engendering. Out of the expected crash—the metaphorical result of a posted vulnerability charting—her German fighter persona, Gunter, “the Gun” therein, von Shiphol with its male, aristocratic (von) reference, held by its own surname diminishment, Shiphol, as in “shift all,” does tilt expectation: German fighter pilot, but not Nazi, yet in “dogfights,” not only with a British plane or two, but with a generalized RAF, an RAF that would not address her plane if she was really heading to the North Pole. Kaki is auto pilot with a smile and song.

She is so tough, so straight forward, a vulnerability spinning a kid’s propeller, “just a pilot,” “really I’m trying,” qualifiers holding actuality at bay, but she nevertheless is directionless—heading to the North Pole with a plane of “amps and everything,” a female/male Santa with items going to the Santa workshop, passing reindeer Santa who does know the direction, one always away from that cold pole. That “crazy plane” is selected specifically to get her to the North Pole--“so I’m flying this crazy plane;” therefore, it makes sense she is having trouble finding her way. She even continues to counter need to fly fast via a variant on misdirection, “I can’t seem to fly very fast.” The “seem” provides a task that is impossible. G. von Shifts about dodging bullets—commendable, but the action causes an unexplained loss in altitude, cause and effect break to crash, but they encountered each other earlier in the dream and now know how to join the effort and brace for crash. The fall is not to be, for with the familiar equipment mélange--“all the amps and everything”—assembled for the tour, the loss of altitude will reverse course and “wake [her] up.” She at the worst falls to rise. The Lady Gunter is in charge and her dream is a test performance.

Anxiety is the fuel, but its admission is the antifreeze. The dream maintains itself: she is a performer and the breaks in logic, the so-called confused states of being never leave the tour route; she is on the road and does not detour. “Tour” is noted at the beginning and end of the dream. The apprehensions mitigate her differences, humanize her; she allows herself to be a “seem to be,” “not a Nazi.” The dream is a rehearsal and she wakes up ready to go.

Kaki’s dream is an exercise to acknowledge to self that her ostensibly rough/tough exterior, her battle armor, can pilot through the spinning chaos of loss. Vulnerability’s self-disgust, her broken compassed mirrored fear, she stays on course and is able to recognize her own continuity—the tour, known as Kaki, gleans additional presence even when faltering.


First photo by laurainrva via Flickr
Third photo by Undisputed Wes via Flickr
Fourth photo by M.J. Coleman