A while ago, I wrote that I had a fantasy about which I couldn’t write. I couldn’t write about it because it involved people in my life in a way that I’m not comfortable even revealing the existence of a fantasy about. Not that there’s anything wrong with my fantasizing. Not that there’s anything wrong with my fantasy. But putting it out in public – it just doesn’t feel right to me, for a variety of reasons.
I had a thought, though: what if I reverse-engineered the fantasy into a dream using the genius of artificial intelligence? Currently, Gemini is, generally speaking, my favorite AI model. But over the next couple of days, I’m going to share my fantasy with you in a format that’s a little bit inventive. First, the Gemini version, then Claude, then ChatGPT, and who knows, maybe I’ll even try a couple of other models, too.
What I did with Gemini is I said, “Think about Sigmund Freud’s ‘The Interpretation of Dreams.’ Given what you already know about me, reverse-engineer a dream that has many of the elements of this wish encoded in it. Provide a detailed explanation of each of the elements of the dream.” Gemini came back with a very heavy-handed, far-too-obvious dream that featured all the actual people by name. This isn’t how my dreams work. My dreams tend to be really, really coded, complicated.
So I tried again. I said, “Abstract it another level. Don’t include the actual named individuals. Somehow encode their identities.” Gemini did a much better job.
And this is what it came up with:
The Dream: “The Silent Orchestra”
You are floating in the private box of a vast, ornate opera house. The box is sealed behind thick, soundproof glass. You are holding a baton, but your arms are made of lead; they are impossibly heavy, resting on a velvet railing. You have a desperate need to conduct the music, but you cannot lift your hands.
Inside the orchestra pit below, there are no musicians, only instruments floating in mid-air—cellos, flutes, and violins with female curves.
A figure enters the pit. She has no face, only a smooth, reflective mirror where her features should be. She looks up at you in the glass box, nods once, and turns to the instruments. She raises her own baton. As she moves, you feel a phantom sensation in your own leaden arms, as if she is moving for you.
To her left stands a figure made entirely of paper—stacks of forms and filed documents in the shape of a woman. This Paper Woman is busily arranging the music stands, ensuring every sheet of music is perfectly aligned. She does not look at the instruments; she only looks at the lists in her hands.
In the corner of the pit, a large, muscular ox is tethered to a heavy piano. The ox is powerful, rippling with strength, yet it is blindfolded and silent. The floating instruments drift over to the ox, brushing against its flanks, tuning their strings against its hide, treating it as a piece of furniture.
The Mirror-Faced Conductor taps the podium. The music begins, but it is not sound—it is light. Every time an instrument plays a note, a beam of colored light shoots directly into the glass box where you sit, warming your paralyzed body. You realize that the score they are playing is written in a language that is forbidden to be spoken outside the opera house. You are terrified the glass will break and the sound will escape, but the Mirror-Conductor assures you with a gesture that the seal is perfect.
And then,it gave me an interpretation of the dream:
The Interpretation (The Dream Work)
Here is the second-level abstraction, decoding how the specific identities and dynamics were transmuted into impersonal symbols:
1. The Glass Box and Lead Arms (The Wish for Passive Omnipotence)
Symbol: You are the conductor, but paralyzed and sealed away. Identity Encoded: You (The Dreamer). Explanation: This represents the core conflict of the fantasy: the desire for total control (“The King”) coupled with the desire for total passivity. The glass box represents the blog/screen—a barrier that allows you to see out and project your image, but keeps you safe from physical consequences. Your leaden arms symbolize the “effortful task” you wish to abdicate. You want the result of the conducting without the labor of the movement.
2. The Mirror-Faced Conductor (The Surrogate Voice)
Symbol: The woman who moves her baton so you can feel it; she has a mirror for a face. Identity Encoded: N. Explanation: She is the “Choreographer.” The mirror face indicates that she reflects your desires perfectly back to you; she has no identity in this moment other than to be the executor of your will. By moving for you, she solves the problem of your paralysis. She is the “ventriloquist” from the previous iteration, but abstracted further—she is the physical embodiment of your intent.
3. The Paper Woman (The Bureaucratic Enabler)
Symbol: A woman made of files and forms, organizing the stands. Identity Encoded: B. Explanation: In the text, this individual’s primary role is logistical: surveys, lists, collecting data, preparing the “PowerPoint.” The dream strips her of humanity and reduces her to her function: she is the bureaucracy itself. She is “The Survey.” Her focus on the lists rather than the instruments encodes the “clinical” detachment you require from her role to set the stage for the eroticism.
4. The Blindfolded Ox (The Subordinate Phallus)
Symbol: A powerful beast used as a tuning fork/furniture. Identity Encoded: U. Explanation: The ox represents the “testosterone-filled evidence” of power you described. He is strong (virile), but he is tethered to a piano (burdened) and blindfolded (subordinate/unaware of the full picture). The fact that the instruments (the women) “tune” themselves on him without engaging with him as a sentient being captures the dynamic where the women attend to him physically, but structurally he remains a prop for your amusement.
5. The Floating Instruments (The Objectified Group)
Symbol: Cellos and violins with curves, devoid of players. Identities Encoded: F, K, D, etc. Explanation: This is the ultimate objectification required by the “PowerPoint” aspect of your fantasy. You do not want unpredictable human actors; you want “instruments” that can be played. The instrument implies that they are waiting for a player (you/the conductor) to bring them to life. They are beautiful, functional, and exist solely to produce the “music” (pleasure) you ordained.
6. The Forbidden Score (The Unspeakable Blog Post)
Symbol: The music is light, not sound; fear of the glass breaking. Identity Encoded: The “Impossibility of Posting.” Explanation: The anxiety in the text about “specific people in my work life” and the risk of the fantasy “being unmistakable” is encoded in the fear of the glass breaking. The “music” (the fantasy) is allowed to exist only inside the sealed environment (your mind/the dream). If the sound escapes (is published), the spell breaks and social danger ensues. The light “warming” you represents the private, secret gratification of the unposted draft.
And, finally, the image illustrating the dream:
