Psychology

Dream. Home.

Sam Falco
Daily writing prompt
Write about your dream home.
View all responses

I live in a 1920’s-era Spanish Revival style home with three bedrooms and two baths. It is roomy enough for two people with no children, and yet I often dream that it is larger than it is.

I’ve had this thematically recurring dream for decades. I find a door, a stairway, or a ladder that leads to a space several times as large as I have. Sometimes, the new space surprises me. The first time I remember the dream was when I was in grad school, living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. I found an iron, spiral staircase leading up and discovered it led to a glass-walled arboretum filled with exotic, tropical plants. Since then, I’ve dreamed of cavernous basements, rooms that I vaguely remember having closed off years before, and whole new wings of the house I live in now. Sometimes, I even remember within the dream that I’ve had dreams like this before. Of course, in keeping with the way dreams work, I never realize that I’m also dreaming now.

When Sweetie and I began getting rid of clutter last year, we were both stunned at how much more space we had than we realized in the basement and the cedar closet in the hall. I said it seemed like one of my dreams and she said, “But this is real.” And I said, “That’s exactly what you would say if I were dreaming.” Then she poked me in the ribs, we started giggling, and I didn’t wake up, so it must have been real.

But when I do have these dreams, what’s going on? I once read an article about researchers who believed they had proved rats dream and, in their dreams, plan how to get food. Maybe dreams are a way of mentally rehearsing our lives and my subconscious occasionally reminds me to look for opportunities and options I have forgotten I have.

The Illusion of Memory

Sam Falco

What major historical events do you remember?

I’m 56. If I named every historical event I remember, it would look like a pastiche of Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” I loathe that song.

Instead, I’m going to focus on two historical events: one I remember and one I couldn’t possibly remember.

On July 21, 1969, Neil Armstrong stepped onto the lunar surface and said his famous words about a giant leap for mankind. I remember it vividly. There’s just one problem. I can’t possibly remember it, because I was only two years old. Twenty-six months, to be precise. Children do not form long-term memories before about thirty months. Even if I were some sort of super-prodigy (Narrator: He isn’t.), there’s another reason I know my memory is false: I remember watching it in color. Later Apollo missions used color cameras, but the one developed for Apollo 11 was black and white. My “memory” is a construct of what I’ve been told about the event (I was, according to my mother, in the room when they watched it), knowledge gleaned from history books and primary sources, and filling in the blanks.

Human memory is not like a computer’s hard drive, filled with unambiguous ones and zeros. Our memories are fuzzy and malleable. They change and adapt over time. Even true events may be misrepresented in our minds because of associations that arise later and restructure the synaptic encoding. Even when we do remember an event, details may be obscured, altered, or falsified over time.

I do not remember seeing Neil Armstrong walk on the moon. At least, I don’t have an authentic memory of it. It’s a construct. We can all be made to remember things that never happened, whether that’s happenstance or by malicious intent. It’s one reason police have to be very careful in interrogating suspects–it’s far too easy to create a false memory in an impressionable mind. Of course, some cops do that on purpose, but that’s beyond the scope of this essay.

The first historical event that I remember witnessing, and that I am sure is an authentic memory is from 1974. August 9th, although that’s a detail I had to look up. That’s the day Richard Nixon resigned from the Presidency. Even with that, the details are fuzzy. I’m sure subsequent viewings of that broadcast footage have modified the memory. I couldn’t tell you exactly what Nixon said. The detail that I am certain is my own memory is what I thought and felt about it. Mostly, I was confused about what was happening and what it meant. I asked my father, “Why is he resigning?” And my father said, “Because he did something wrong, and then he lied to cover it up.”

That part of the memory is mine. No one has ever told me I asked that question or got that answer. I didn’t get it from a history book, or a news article from the time. It made a big impression on me. Doing something wrong was, well, wrong, but lying to cover it up once you’re caught can cost you everything.

Dictation and Thought

Sam Falco1 Comment

Last night I awoke at one A.M. and couldn’t get back to sleep. I wanted to write, but I was loathe to turn the lights on. Nor did I want to stare at a screen in the dark. That would only make my sleeplessness worse.

I decided to try dictating my thoughts into an iPhone Note. I didn’t know how well it would work, but I was happy with the results. The dictation wasn’t 100% accurate. For some reason, the app transcribed “thoughts” as “farts.” When I read it in the morning, I found fun sentences like, “My farts are all over the place.”

I also found it weird to have to dictate punctuation. It sort of disrupted the flow of my thoughts. (Not my farts). When I’m typing or writing by hand, I insert punctuation as part of the flow. I don’t think about it. But while dictating, I had to verbalize periods, commas, and new paragraphs.

Punctuation and transcription errors aside, the content of what I wrote/dictated was very good. I identified a psychological hang up that I’ve never been able to get my head around before, and the line of thought was steady and coherent. Maybe I should dictate instead of writing more often.

When do you feel happiest?

Sam Falco

Given my history of depression and anxiety, it would be understandable for the pandemic and the economic crash overwhelm me. But they haven’t. I’ve established a welcome sense of equilibrium in the face of catastrophe. I am understandably concerned for my health and the health of those I love, especially my parents and in-laws. But I’m doing what I can to be healthy. I recognize that thinking about what might happen is wasteful, pointless. Somehow, I can let those fears go when they arise. Likewise, I don’t linger on financial concerns beyond keeping an eye on what I can do to make sure I stay employed and spend my money wisely.

I told a colleague recently that I could write my ideal job description in three words: think, create, teach. I’m at my happiest when I have time to think and learn, headspace and time to write, and an outlet to teach others what I know. I am fortunate that my life does revolve around those three things. I spend a good portion of every day in a state of flow, where time doesn’t matter and I’m challenged to the edge of my abilities. I’m satisfied and happy as a result.

What about you? When do you feel happiest?

The Agilist’s Bookshelf

Sam Falco

Patterson, Kerry, et al. Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes are High. New York, McGraw-Hill, 2012.

The authors identify “crucial conversations” as emotionally-laden, high-stakes differences of opinion. Noting that most people lack the skill to deal with such topics, the authors write, “We often back away from them because we fear we’ll make matters worse.” Avoiding these conversations can mean a strategy of silence (any kind of retreat from the conversation), or of violence (verbal attacks on the opposing party). The book contains a quiz that allows readers to identify their own “Style Under Stress,” so that they can determine the best strategy for improving their communication skills.

A flaw of many self-help books is that examples seem contrived, but each chapter of this book provides well-written scenarios that feel true-to-life. In some chapters, the authors present examples that they invite readers to think about before they continue reading, providing an element of role-play practice. A summary at the end of each chapter lists key points to remember and provides an easy way for readers to revisit the material from time to time as they work to incorporate the various techniques into their repertoire. 

Agile practitioners will find Crucial Conversations very valuable not only as a personal guide to better communication, but as a way to recognize the danger signs of broken communication on Agile teams, and mitigate against them. Agile practices require innumerable conversations around contentious topics where stakes are high. Handling these conversations safely and respectfully is key to delivering high-value solutions in happy, healthy working environments.

The Agilist’s Bookshelf

Sam Falco

Langer, Ellen J., Mindfulness, 25th Anniversary Edition. Da Capo Press, 2014.

In the preface to the 25th anniversary edition of Mindfulness, Ellen Langer writes, “Mindlessness is pervasive. In fact I believe virtually all our problems…either directly or indirectly stem from mindlessness.” If that is true, this book offers insight into both the source of our problems and the potential to overcome them.

In Part One, Langer defines and examines “mindlessness”— a state of rigid over-reliance on outdated, incomplete, and therefore false mental models. She identifies multiple sources of mindless behavior, including erroneous beliefs in constraints, an education system that values outcome over process, and the power of context to determine our behavior and expectations. Mindlessness leads to narrow self-image, inability to adapt, and stunts our potential.

Part Two defines mindfulness as a life-affirming practice that contributes to good mental and physical health. Mindfulness means the ability to create new mental categories and adjust old categorizations, openness to new information and multiple points of view, and having a process orientation rather than a results-oriented outlook. Chapters cover mindful aging, creativity, mindfulness on the job, decreasing prejudice, and the confluence of mindfulness and physical health.

Agile Coaches may find its insights valuable to deepen their understanding of why Agile principles and practices work. Although Langer cites dozens of academic resources and studies, Mindfulness is written for the layperson. Summaries of experiments are clear and concise, and where data are inconclusive, Langer identifies the shortcomings and possible alternative interpretations. However, it is not a recipe book for mindfulness. The reader will find no instructions on how to be more mindful here; and will have to take a mindful approach to applying its lessons.

The 30 Day Optimism Challenge

Sam Falco

My peculiar brain chemistry makes me prone to depression, and toward the end of last year a variety of triggers, internal and external, damaged my equilibrium. Setbacks weighed on me more than they should. Every day felt like a chain of uniformly unpleasant events. When I realized last month what was going on, I knew I needed to change my thinking. The trouble with depression is that it drains your ability to take action, so I chose two simple tasks that I could do each day to change my outlook. I called it the “Thirty Day Optimism Challenge.”

In the morning, I would name one thing to look forward to. It didn’t have to be anything major. Some days, it was as simple as, “I look forward to coming home tonight.” And it didn’t have to be something that would happen that day. One day, I named a weekend trip to Saint Augustine that my wife and I were planning. The idea was to remind myself that no matter what was going on right then, something positive was on the way.

At night, I identified one good thing about that day. It was usually something simple: watching pelicans dive for fish during my morning commute, reading a good essay, or meeting a friend for coffee. It wasn’t about ignoring bad things, but about not focusing on those things exclusively.

I recorded the answers in my pocket diary. Writing them down made them concrete, and my mood began to improve by the second week. I began to make a game of finding something good—how early could I spot something I could use that night? Eventually, I started noticing so many good things each day that I had trouble selecting just one! And in the morning, if I couldn’t think of something to look forward to, I’d make a plan: tonight I will call my best friend. This weekend, I will visit the bookstore. I always had something to look forward to on any given day—whether it was something that night, the next week, or in a few months.

Yesterday was Day 30. The challenge worked. I feel more optimistic, and I’ve decided to keep up both exercises indefinitely. Depression will still surface from time to time, but I hope those incidents will be fewer, rarer, and weaker if I remember to keep my eyes open for the positive things in life.

The Bright Side of 2016

Sam Falco

This year, according to popular imagination, has been a particularly bad one. Zika. Celebrity deaths. Brexit. ISIL. And, of course, the horror that was the U.S. Presidential election. An annus horribilis, to be sure. And yet, it is a mistake to view the year solely through that lens.

Dwelling solely on these negative events leads to tunnel vision, so that we don’t see what is good in the world and in our lives. For me, it was a very good year:

  • I completed the first draft of Target Striker faster and with higher quality than any novel I’ve written previously.
  • I got to travel, making trips to San Diego, Santa Clara, Atlanta, New Jersey, New York, Puerto Rico, and Estonia.
  • In Puerto Rico, I fulfilled a long-time dream of visiting the Arecibo Observatory.
  • I experienced professional successes, including teaching well-received workshops on Scrum, attending the Agile Alliance 2016 conference, facilitating meetings of the Tampa Bay Scrum Masters Guild, and finding a new job.
  • I got to attend four Copa America Centenario games, including the final match.

In addition to the major items, the year was filled with smaller joys: good books, evenings spent with Carolyn, and board games with friends, to name only a few.

Was everything in 2016 good? Of course not. But it is too easy to dwell on the negatives, and give in to despair.

2017 promises to be a year full of challenges. Among other things, the United States will install an authoritarian, white-nationalist government against the will of the majority, and good people will have to find the strength to resist it. It’s important not to lose sight of all that is good in our lives, so that we can draw strength from those experiences and memories.

The Social Media Sabbatical

Sam Falco

On October 10, I started a one-week social media sabbatical. I logged out of Facebook and both of my Twitter accounts on all of my devices, then deleted the passwords from my password manager. I felt that participation in social media in general, and Facebook in particular, was detrimental to my mental health and cognitive abilities. A week away from it all would do me good.

On the first day, I had frequent urges to log back in and post about the fact that I wouldn’t be posting. I took these urges as evidence that I had made the right decision. The urges diminished after the second day, and over the next week, I was amazed to discover how much free time I had. The stack of magazines on the coffee table? I read them all. I had time to de-clutter the garage. I wrote more. I picked up my guitar for the first time in at least six months. And I often had time left over at the end of the day.

More importantly, my ability to focus returned. I began studying a new programming language. I retained more of what I read, and comprehended it more easily. When I wrote, my prose was clearer and better.

I also felt more relaxed without the constant barrage of political memes and manufactured outrage.

When the seven days expired, I was reluctant to give up these gains, and I didn’t log in for several more days. I used the @dreadpiraterowdie Twitter account for Rowdies games, then logged back out when they ended. I’ve been back on Facebook for a few minutes each weekend. I’m not going to say that social media is all bad, but I’m happier with it taking up less of my head space. Meanwhile, planning for my new novel is coming along rapidly, and I recently wrote a 750 word piece of flash fiction off the top of my head. I haven’t done that in years, and it’s much more satisfying than reading yet another political meme.

A Room of My Own

Sam Falco

I have a recurring dream of finding new rooms in my house. The broad details vary. Sometimes I’m in the house I live in now, sometimes in a former apartment, and sometimes in an entirely unique place. And the new rooms I discover vary from as small as a walk-in closet to a space twice the size of the original place. (In one such dream, during grad school, I dreamed I was living in a 250 square foot studio apartment and discovered a spiral staircase leading to a 1,500 square foot arboretum.)

Last night, I dreamed that I found a sunroom, in the house where I currently live, just off the spare bedroom that currently serves as my library (also as a repository for items with no fixed location). The sun room contained half a dozen or so boxes that we had put there when we moved there in 2002, still sealed. I remembered that Carolyn had planned to use it as a sewing room, but since she had given up sewing, I wondered if I could use it as my writing room. I even thought, “This is like one of those dreams where I find a forgotten room, except this time it really happened.”

I’ve learned that this type of recurring dream is common. Freud thought that houses represented bodies, and I guess the new rooms would represent new physical capabilities. Carolyn suggested that the new room represents the discovery of new opportunities, and maybe my subconscious is encouraging me to look for options in my life that I don’t realize I have.

Or maybe it just means I have more stuff than places to store it.