Ya, like a lotta people I have kept a dream journal from time-to-time. Usually lasts a week. The effort of trying to get it down in words, properly, eventually outweighs the fun. Last nite I dreamt that I was in the woods, and thru the trees I could see a path. It was dusk. I wanted to travel though the forest, following the direction of the path, while staying off the path, before it got dark. If it got dark, and I was on the path, or even in the woods, I would be grave danger. I had the option of climbing back out of the woods, because just behind me a bridge passed over the path, and there were grassy slopes on either side where I could climb up. And I remember distinctly the apprehension. Do I risk travelling through the forest? Do I climb back out?? Well I guess in dreams there's no going back, cuz I decided to risk it, hoping I got where I was going before it got dark. Even though as I started, it was already getting dark. And it got darker. Though there was ... some light ... especially the path--which I could see through woods--gleaming like a white ribbon. As well, the forest floor glowed a faint gold, sometimes redder. As I weaved my way thru the forest, keeping the path in view thru the trees, I began to encounter little fires, fires near me, and fires further off, and on the other side of the path, too, higher up. Little phantom campfires! I tried to avoid the fires, but sometimes I got closer than I would like, and I saw gold items burning in their cold flames ... treasures perhaps. I'm not definite about that, some sort of treasure perhaps, large gold items, including smooth ring shapes or loops, and large urns. After awhile, just as I was resigning myself to being caught, through the trees, first, I saw it. Grim stone walls illuminated dimly by the fires. The windows were pitch black. Was it deserted?? Unfortunately I can't remember what happened inside, although I believe I entered the castle, and things did happen to me while I was inside ...
Wow, that sounds like it would make a great painting or poem... or like maybe it came out of an old book! I like really visual dreams like this one. Have any thoughts on what it might mean?
Yep I do. And it fits the pattern, too, cuz often I have dreams where I'm searching for something while under stress. I think it's about my chosen path. And if it is the right one, or am I lost, and should I change it while there's still time. I'm really disappointed I can't remember my dream today ... usually I can remember them in a row. Maybe cuz I didn't sleep in the same place. Maybe tomorrow.
I was dreaming up a storm last nite. I was with someone and we were curious about some activity going on. We pushed thru a small crowd of children to get a look. Dug were 4 square holes, separated from each other by, say, a foot, in two rows, each hole maybe 3 feet deep. The whole thing was boxed in on three sides by walls streaked with mud... The ground was filthy ... And, somewhat incongruously, nearby was a little office, with a desk, and a lamp, and working at the desk was a boy wearing thick glasses and a visor. He was making notations in a book. Everybody was wearing rags except this boy. Everybody had shaved heads except this boy. And everybody else was covered in filth. In one of the holes a frightened child was cringing, fearing for their life I would say. Broken bits of furniture and frayed wires filled the other holes. When this child standing in the hole lowered their head, slightly, another child, standing above, leaned down and placed a small piece of white fabric on their forehead, pinning it with their finger, first, and then adjusting it carefully by spinning their finger this way and that. Earlier, I had dreamt that I was carrying a furry wrap, but longer, almost like a snake ... it was not alive, but it was heavy, furry, white, and slightly damp. As well, things were hooked to it, including, possibly, little Christmas lights. Not sure if they were lights or spangles, or what. I was standing at a lunch counter, in a diner, trying to submit this thing ... for what I dunno, perhaps a fair? But there was a delay. The waitress examined it and ... then I waited ... I remember sucking on a salt shaker and tasting the salt as I waited. People were seated behind me following what was going on with some interest. The waitress helped me remove some of the stuff hooked to the wrap, some of it looking like little fry pans ...
good on you to be able to recount that degree of detail. endless surrealisms permiate many of my own. to me, this sort of thing begs for no explanation, but is the kind of mini-vactaion into the great unknown of limitless possiblities, that we need to restore ourselves, from a world that tries to impose arbitrary and equally irrational samenessess on everything. =^^= .../\...
Ya, I try to share the experience, so gotta recall detail, that's why it becomes work!! ... My dreams tend to be connected, that is, there's a long story with scene changes, and each scene plays out somewhat. There's usually a trip involved ... some journey, and stops along the way. And usually I remember one scene vividly (hopefully), and the connecting scenes are almost forgotten. However always I'm left with the sensation that there were many connecting scenes. Last nite I dreamt of a water tank ... a giant aquarium the size of a coffin, filled with stagnant water. The water was cloudy, and glowed a yellow green, but the man inside filled most of it, so he was easy enough to see. He was wearing ... well, it was something like a deep sea diving suit, but resembled medieval armor coated with algae and rust. Particularly unusual was his mask. It was made of riveted plates. Pointed at the top, while the front part was almost flat, and if I were to compare it something, I would compare it to an iron mask they used for torture in medieval times. On the far side of the room, say ten feet off the ground, some people were sitting on a glass shelf, along with piled scarfs, or blankets. Up to the shelf I pointed my finger, and ... They seemed rather amused by this, and got kind of restless. One of em reached under the shelf, and ran their hand under it, as if to check, I dunno, the bracket or something. Then ... this deep sea diving man was standing before me ... he was no longer in the tank! He was explaining something. Behind the slits in the mask I could see his eyes and lips move.
Ok ok, I know, maybe the last one. Late night ... again a long story with parts, and I only remember one part well. I was in an auto shop ... I was sitting at one corner of a large steel table near a garage door (which was open). The other people at the table were discussing a book that had been written about card playing, and how they were applying what they learnt. It was sunny outside: a brilliant white light framed by the door frame, but that was the only light, and the table was shadowy. Since I was sitting closest to the open door, I had no trouble seeing my cards, at least. And I was ... winning ... quite unexpectedly, everyone was surprised, I was an absolute beginner. Instead of money or chips, though, I had a stack of receipts the size of memos, some with sixty-something cents, some with a dollar something, maybe some with 10 dollars something. All of them had sixty-something cents on the end. Flipping thru them, I was wondering what they added up to, and wondered if it was disappointingly low, especially cuz most of them were less than a dollar. The author of the book arrived! He was a short fat man, bald, wearing a striped dress shirt, and possibly suspenders, and his name was Ruben. He sat next to me. On a piece of paper I wrote the initials RB in red ink, carefully. This paper had the initials of all of the other players on it already, in blue ink, and, for some reason, it was my duty to add Ruben's to it. Pamphlets and boxes had kinda slid over and blocked part of the table and I reached over and pushed them back, and stacked some of the boxes with my arms extended. Next I was holding two cards, an ace and an eight. The ace was red, and the eight was black. We were playing some kind of Blackjack! The backs of the cards were dark with white dots. Only thing, I didn't know if it was my turn or not, so I waited for someone else to play. When I began to feel uncomfortable I looked down at the shadowy table trying to locate the stack of undealt cards. They were in front of Ruben (I guess) and so I figured it was my turn and I asked for a card. As soon as I did this I began to regret my decision cuz my score was 19, which was pretty good, and I remember wondering how many pllayers there were, cuz, the more there were the less chance I would have won with 19. Whew, what work to write this ... anyway, well, that's it.
great dreams! thanks for sharing your thoughts. With this last one, I was wondering if maybe painting them would be easier. It would certainly be fun!
Painting ya ... that's right. Strange you say that cuz I draw and paint .. it's my main thing. That, and CG. I wanted to do a painting with playing cards in it ... what's stopping me, I dunno.
