I dozed off this evening while watching a beautiful documentary on India on public television.
As the show delved deeper into India's enduring British legacy, my eyes began to grow heavy.
As I lay floating between the dream world and the real one, India was turned into a metaphor for my life in the sort of magical transformation that can occur only while between those two worlds.
As long as I could keep from falling asleep, my dream narration told me, I would live forever, enjoying all the riches and pleasure deriving from this wonderful jewel in my metaphysical crown.
My shock and disappointment were great when I discovered a few minutes ago that I had awoken from a dream.
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Calcium dreams
Sometimes the most interesting, seemingly abstract thoughts come to me wrapped in the gossamer veil that floats between wakefulness and sleep.
That seems to be when the good stuff bubbles to the top, unbidden.
That seems to be when the good stuff bubbles to the top, unbidden.
Pick a dream
from the catalog
and wrap yourself
in it
then fade
to black
from the catalog
and wrap yourself
in it
then fade
to black
Friday, August 24, 2007
Recurring dream theme
Shortly before waking this morning, I dreamed I was watching the approach of a large World War II-vintage, propeller-driven plane over a clearing in a wooded area where I stood. It must have been coming from an air show, I reckoned.
The plane was a multi-engined behemoth, a B-17 bomber or something along those lines. The plane was majestic in flight, its engines roaring as it lumbered along at low altitude.
Suddenly, there was a bright flash from the right side of the cockpit, the engines sputtered and the plane descended rapidly in a gentle arc, crashing just beyond the clearing amid the trees.
Shocked by what I had just seen, I was torn between running home to get my camera and sprinting to the wreckage to help those on board.
And then I woke up.
Planes falling from the sky has been a fairly common dream theme over the past several years. This is the second dream in recent memory that has involved a vintage plane. I'm sure this reflects my interest in World War II aircraft.
But why? What could be the message?
The plane was a multi-engined behemoth, a B-17 bomber or something along those lines. The plane was majestic in flight, its engines roaring as it lumbered along at low altitude.
Suddenly, there was a bright flash from the right side of the cockpit, the engines sputtered and the plane descended rapidly in a gentle arc, crashing just beyond the clearing amid the trees.
Shocked by what I had just seen, I was torn between running home to get my camera and sprinting to the wreckage to help those on board.
And then I woke up.
Planes falling from the sky has been a fairly common dream theme over the past several years. This is the second dream in recent memory that has involved a vintage plane. I'm sure this reflects my interest in World War II aircraft.
But why? What could be the message?
Friday, August 03, 2007
A dream in more ways than one
Nitta Yoshisada offering his sword to the Sun Goddess for her help in his attack on Kamakura, 1333. Woodblock print by Taiso Yoshitoshi.During the night Wednesday, I dreamed that I was bidding my friends farewell. I was going to live once more in Japan. (I lived there from 1995-98.)
One of my friends from work responded with an incredulous "You're kidding!" before asking me if my health had improved to that extent.
I answered that it had.
And then I woke up, literally and figuratively.
The rest of my life probably will be spent near Manhattan.
I don't have a choice.
My doctors and surgeons are here.
I don't know of anyplace else where I can get this level of care for my medical situation.
And besides, the Japan that I love (and also hate) seems to exist anymore only in old Kurosawa films, antique woodblock prints and in the minds of dreaming fools like me.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Strange dreams of travel and luggage
Today was the second in a row in which I've had strange dreams immediately prior to waking in the morning.
Both dreams were ultra-vivid and realistic and, though not nightmares, still were unsettling. Both involved travel and centered specifically on my worry of being separated from my luggage. And both occurred close enough to the time I woke up that I remember details, though as through a haze.
In today's dream, I was traveling on a bus that I dimly remember as an older model, a cross between a school bus and a passenger bus.
As we made our way along what I recall was a rural road, I had a gnawing fear that once we got to my stop, I wouldn't have time to get to my luggage, which was stowed underneath in a compartment accessible from the outside.
Then I began having vague worries about the location of the stop itself, so I got up from my seat in the very back of the bus to walk up to the driver to ask a question. I asked my seat mates if any of them had questions for the driver, and a blond-haired fellow with a crew cut offered one, something about whether a night bus traveled straight through to a particular town or whether a transfer was needed.
I slowly made my way up to the driver. I recognize her now as a graphic artist from work with whom I'm friendly. I kept asking her the question that had been relayed to me by the blond kid, but she wouldn't answer. "I want to help you," I recall her saying. "But my husband and I are supposed to go to a fish restaurant along here but I forget the name and I need to keep my eye out for it."
We finally spotted the restaurant -- named Bard Heder, whatever the hell that means (and how did I remember that?) -- and then I woke up. I don't recall my question ever being answered.
In yesterday's dream, I remember being back in what I think was the rural Pennsylvania town in which I attended college. I wasn't a student but was staying in a dorm room for some reason, though it was set up more like a hotel room.
It was the day before school ended for the summer and people were hurriedly packing up possessions and preparing to leave. I recall having a difficult time getting all my things to fit in the one or two suitcases I had.
Fast-forward and I find myself in town on Main Street, at the bottom of a steep hill. I remember being aware of the time and worrying that I would miss my flight. So I started jogging up this steep hill. It was quite warm out and I was dressed in a suit. I was drenched as I made it back to the dorm.
I don't quite remember the details, but I had just minutes to grab my suitcases and go. I ran up to my room, but couldn't close my stuffed suitcases, which for some reason I had opened. I panicked. I also recall worrying about whether my travel papers were in order (a theme reflected in a dream last year in which I arrived at the airport without my passport).
And then I woke up.
I remember that these dreams were photographically clear and in color, even if I can't recall all the details now. My mannerisms and demeanor were exactly as they are in waking life.
What could they be trying to tell me?
Are they somehow connected to my surgery next month?
(I've had other dreams similarly fraught with symbolism, which you can read about here and here, if you like)
Both dreams were ultra-vivid and realistic and, though not nightmares, still were unsettling. Both involved travel and centered specifically on my worry of being separated from my luggage. And both occurred close enough to the time I woke up that I remember details, though as through a haze.
In today's dream, I was traveling on a bus that I dimly remember as an older model, a cross between a school bus and a passenger bus.
As we made our way along what I recall was a rural road, I had a gnawing fear that once we got to my stop, I wouldn't have time to get to my luggage, which was stowed underneath in a compartment accessible from the outside.
Then I began having vague worries about the location of the stop itself, so I got up from my seat in the very back of the bus to walk up to the driver to ask a question. I asked my seat mates if any of them had questions for the driver, and a blond-haired fellow with a crew cut offered one, something about whether a night bus traveled straight through to a particular town or whether a transfer was needed.
I slowly made my way up to the driver. I recognize her now as a graphic artist from work with whom I'm friendly. I kept asking her the question that had been relayed to me by the blond kid, but she wouldn't answer. "I want to help you," I recall her saying. "But my husband and I are supposed to go to a fish restaurant along here but I forget the name and I need to keep my eye out for it."
We finally spotted the restaurant -- named Bard Heder, whatever the hell that means (and how did I remember that?) -- and then I woke up. I don't recall my question ever being answered.
In yesterday's dream, I remember being back in what I think was the rural Pennsylvania town in which I attended college. I wasn't a student but was staying in a dorm room for some reason, though it was set up more like a hotel room.
It was the day before school ended for the summer and people were hurriedly packing up possessions and preparing to leave. I recall having a difficult time getting all my things to fit in the one or two suitcases I had.
Fast-forward and I find myself in town on Main Street, at the bottom of a steep hill. I remember being aware of the time and worrying that I would miss my flight. So I started jogging up this steep hill. It was quite warm out and I was dressed in a suit. I was drenched as I made it back to the dorm.
I don't quite remember the details, but I had just minutes to grab my suitcases and go. I ran up to my room, but couldn't close my stuffed suitcases, which for some reason I had opened. I panicked. I also recall worrying about whether my travel papers were in order (a theme reflected in a dream last year in which I arrived at the airport without my passport).
And then I woke up.
I remember that these dreams were photographically clear and in color, even if I can't recall all the details now. My mannerisms and demeanor were exactly as they are in waking life.
What could they be trying to tell me?
Are they somehow connected to my surgery next month?
(I've had other dreams similarly fraught with symbolism, which you can read about here and here, if you like)
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