Italian Dream Intepretation: Lottery Numbers Included

On what is the only Italian-produced television program I watch, there is a running story about Italy’s Unabomber.

For those of you who don’t know, Italy unfortunately does have its own Ted Kaczynski, so to speak, and he has been leaving random bombs in the northeastern part of the country since 1994. No one has been killed by these bombs yet, but several have resulted in severe injuries, including amputations and loss of sight.

He may share a name with the America’s Unabomber, but that’s really where the similarities end. This guy in Italy doesn’t have an apparent motive as he’s made no economic or social demands and his victims seem completely random–except for the fact that he has placed several devices where children were likely to come across them, and, in fact, have.

It’s a horrible story, and now authorities think maybe they know who’s behind it. I’m not sure if the television portrayal is meant to help bring this guy to justice, give him ideas, or make him really, really angry, but it’s had some unintended side effects on me.

Like nightmares.

Just one (so far), and it really wasn’t so much scary as freaking weird. OK, you twisted my arm.

This television show is on Tuesdays, so I’m not quite sure why several days later, I dreamed that there was a group of Italian investigators searching the house I grew up in (in America) for an Italian Unabomber bomb.

To give you the layout, in that house, there are two bedrooms upstairs on opposite ends of the house, connected by a hallway with the staircase taking up the middle chunk of the top floor. Open spaces that we called the cubby hole* run along the entire length of the house on both sides of the bedrooms.

So, in the dream, I had been changing clothes in one end of the cubby (which I would never do) when I noticed that there was suddenly a group of Italian police officers searching the opposite end of cubby hole. And, interestingly, while they were searching, I realized that I had about 200 lovely hand and shoulder bags that I had apparently completely forgotten about. In fact, there was the cutest little red number that was really speaking to me. Only it doesn’t exist in real life.


Anyway, they searched the whole place and didn’t find anything, but then I suddenly remembered that I had smelled something burning the night before. This was actually true. Don’t you love the way your subconscious incorporates reality into your dreams? Well the night before the dream, I smelled something really pungent burning–much stronger than ordinary wood. It was around only for about 10 seconds, and it disappeared. I still don’t know what it could’ve been, but my subconscious figured it must’ve been a bomb. Placed by the Italian Unabomber. Obviously.

Back in the dream, I told the woman investigator (I think she might’ve been the blonde from Without a Trace, but I can’t be sure) about the burning smell, and she was more convinced than ever that they needed to continue searching. Within minutes, she found a small bomb inside a book in the corner on the floor; the other officers then yelled that they had found another on the phone line. So there you go.

I woke up quite anxious and after I shared the terror with P, I knew what I had to do next.

Even before taking Luna out for a walk, I had to check our dream interpretation book, which, because it’s Italian, also gives you the lottery numbers you should play based on your nightly imaginings. I’m not joking. The numbers are actually the point of the book–the interpretations are just bonus. This, btw, was my birthday gift to P. And he loved it. I swear.

I didn’t find much out there regarding what war my subconscious is waging, but I do know that I should be feeling lucky about 4, 17, 22, 34, 37, and 77. If anyone plays those and wins, I’ll be happy to accept a percentage of your proceeds. If anyone plays those and bad things start happening, you should really watch Lost. And not get on a plane.

After I checked my dream book, it was time to take a more-than-ready, butt-swishing Luna out for a little stroll in the gusting wind. The past couple days, we’ve had amazing winds around here, especially at night and into the early morning. Because of this, the temps finally feel more February-like and drying clothes outside has been heavenly, so I can’t complain.

But I can bundle up. And I did. And then I turned around to tell P we’d be back shortly. And he told me to get the camera.

That’s me on the right, in case you can’t tell the difference between the famous sketch and me. For any of you out there who know my last name, perhaps this is an extra amusing side-by-side. Think about it.

So, in conclusion, I’ve been tempted to do it before, but now I’m pretty sure–it’s time to swear off Italian TV forever.

It’s just no good for me.

*Please note that I am using the first definition listed here, and *so* not the fourth one. We most certainly did not have two of those running along the sides of our house. Ew.

11 Beans of Wisdom to “Italian Dream Intepretation: Lottery Numbers Included”
  1. Giulia

    LMFAO @ “Cubby Hole” #4!
    I feel like pulling out my “I Messaggi Dei Sogni” book to see if we come up with the same numbers. I believe every authentic😉 Italian has one of these laying around the house somewhere.
    What a shame though, about the whole Unabomber situation. I never even knew this was going on!

  2. Anonymous

    lucky you don’t have the same last name as him. Would be even harder for the italians to pronounce than your current one….vanessa

  3. death


  4. Becslifeonline

    Ha ha I love it when your subconscious incorporates the day’s events into your dreams. Note 1: I have a little tank of sea monkeys in my room. Note 2: I had been previously talking to the Greek guy who lives with me, about feta cheese. That night (a few weeks ago) I dreamt that we were out shopping and we came across this new “sea monkey cheese”. I woke up feeling sick at the thought of it but I couldn’t help laughing at the way my random brain associated those two things!

  5. Laurie

    Sognatrice, not that either of these comments have anything to do with this very interesting post, but I just had a moment so am posting:

    I wish you had a more visible typeface — it is a little hard to read the type against the background colour. I know…I am OLD….but just wanted to comment…..I’ll struggle through one way or another, as I love your blog and am addicted, but wish it were a bit easier to see…

    And…..For the life of me I can’t find that great recipe for linguine with Scampi……where might it be…???

    keep writing……

  6. Giulia

    Laurie, you can change how big the words appear to you by adjusting your settings. I have no idea what browser you are using so I dont know where to point you, but I can change mine by going to “Page” and then through “Text Size.” I am using IE7
    Hope that helps!

  7. sognatrice

    Giulia, glad you had a good laugh 🙂

    Vanessa, in some ways, it’d probably be easier b/c they actually know (of) that guy, but yeah, looking at all those consonants strung together…

    Death, you know, in this light, you look awfully familiar. Thanks for stopping by!

    Bec, sea monkey feta really sounds disgusting; I hope you never find it.

    Laurie, thanks for your comment. I’ll see what I can do. When I was playing around with the font, etc., I really didn’t like the way black looked, but my tastes change frequently, and I was kind of getting bored with this look anyway. I’m on it!

  8. sognatrice

    Oops! And here’s the linguine and scampi.

  9. Tracie B.

    where’s the tom selleck mustache, hm?

  10. sognatrice

    Tracie, too bad for the pic I had just waxed that morning…give me a few days, and I could catch up. Damn Italian genes.

    Laurie, see anything different happening with the font? I like this better, and it’s perfect to start today…the color of Nutella for World Nutella Day!

  11. Annika

    The only differences are 1) moustache 2) color. Both of which could be faked. Scary.

Michelle KaminskyMichelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived. 

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