Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Dream weaver

I've always been fascinated by dreams. I wish it were possible to actually record them (i.e. like a video, not write them down). Something tells me they would be binge watching worthy.

Or just meaningless crap.

My dreams seem to revolve around geographic locations out of my childhood. I'm often find myself at the house I grew up in. Occasionally it becomes a mutation of the first house I bought on my own. I lived there for about 18 years alone. I don't dream about any of the places I rented along the way.

The odd thing to me about dreaming about the house I grew up in is that it no longer exists. Even seeing photos of the interior of the house now sets off weird pangs of sadness and nostalgia. Because the only place I can see the place anymore is in old photographs or my dreams.

My dreams are often filled with panic over misplacing things such as passports when I'm on my way to the airport. Or losing track of possessions. I also have reoccurring dreams of trying to lock doors that don't quite latch and watching for intruders in the front yard.

I occasionally see my dead parents in my dreams. Well technically I don't see my "dead" parents. I see them as they were when I was 30 or so. They are in relatively good health in my dreams. But they don't really talk to me. I don't really recall anyone talking to me in my dreams. I'm just aware of things in a dreamlike fashion.

I don't really fly in dreams, but I do find myself making weightless leaps and bounds. It's kind of cool. But as with most things in dreams, I can't really control them. Things dissipate rapidly in dreams.

I believe I am always youthful in my dreams. It is my inner face. It isn't the face I see in the mirror. I don't ever see mirrors in my dreams.

There don't seem to be any dreams that I really recall on a long term basis. This would support the theory that dreams are a way for the brain to dump a lot of the psychic garbage it has stored for no apparent reason. And rather than running the risk of filling up the brain with totally useless memories, the brain farts out dreams and they slip into the ether and then into the recycle folder on your mind's desktop.

Kind of takes the romance out of dreaming.


What was I talking about?

1 comment:

Helen Baggott said...

I have two recurring dreams. One is where I'm driving on roads I don't know. I do know I'm lost but I'm not worried. The roads are complicated and I often pick the wrong exit and then have to find my way back.

The other dream is about random things, but always set in my home - a home I lived in 30+ years ago. I wouldn't say it makes me feel sad, I just wonder how and why current situations are placed there.