Final Dream?

For several days I have analyzed my dreams in plain view of the few people on this Earth who take an interest in my thoughts. I may or may not have learned something from the exercise. If I have not, at least I made the effort, and as I was apt to get embarrassed and waste a lot of time in life no matter what, there was no harm in it happening this way. At any rate, let us get straight to the matter at hand for today.

The dream goes like this: "dream about Linda. something about plans later, but she was trying to connect with some guy who was showering." That's all there is. Linda is an actress I know through church activities. She's kind, effervescent and awfully attractive. This dream is, in a perhaps less explicit fashion, much like the one which concerned Lucinda. I did not give them rhyming fake names on purpose, but there are parallels.

Penultimate Dream

Today's dream is an interesting one. I'll just get right into it: "dreamed I lived with Robert Landon two shirts were on fridge as lost and found including tank top. I claimed them. There was also a big Hooch-like dog." The dream ends there. "Robert Landon", I can say, is a notable performer at a local comedy theater. I don't really know him, but we have exchanged words. He at least knows me by sight and recalls me.

Maybe I would like to know him better. It could be as simple as that this time. In the dream, he and I are roommates. If I am correctly remembering things I did not write down, we are friends in the dream. One of us has a dog, or we share the dog. Now, in real life I feel a bit intimidated by him, probably for no good reason. I find him difficult to talk to in a practical sense, as he is commonly either in a hurry or surround by throngs of friends.

Grappling With The Sandman

Yesterday's dream was a rather puzzling one, and I drew few conclusions outside of the one that I suffer from a lack of directness. Today's dream came on the same night as yesterday's, both of which followed an improv show I hosted. It may or may not have any connection to yesterday's, as both were swirling around in my head at about the same time. Then again, maybe there's no connection whatsoever.

The record reads like this: "A subsequent dream involved me interacting with wrestlers, at ne point ambushing some by a pool with a long rod or pole, possible meant for pool cleaning." That is all there is to it, and yet there may be something to unearth in it. This is the second night of two dreams, and in each case the second dream was of a violent nature. This time I am evidently the aggressor instead of the victim.

A Third Dream

It is another day, and it is time for another dream of mine along with my amateurish efforts to understand it. The last couple of days have seen me fumbling my way through a sex dream and a dream about violence- one in which I may or may not have survived a serial killer's spree. The sex dream too ended ambiguously. In that there may be a comment about my perpetual uncertainty and insecurity, or there may not be.

Today's dream, as I said yesterday, is the top half of a doubleheader. It goes as follows: "dream with Toni Rosewood (another risible fake name) in some kind of play. I wind up sitting with Rod Price (very fake-sounding) and others in a kind of outdoor venue with the play merely happening on television. I wind up seeing a car/plane from a bond movie and trying to figure out how much to pay." So ends the report.

A Violent Dream

Yesterday's post, recounting and analyzing the first of at least six dreams, was a touch more candid that I usually write. Today's is not less candid, but like many Americans (if I can claim to understand us), I'm more at ease with violence than sex. In any case, we will see if I have any luck working out the meaning of this one after the fact with only the evidence of what I remembered upon waking up after it was over.

Here is precisely what I wrote: "Second dream involved myself and a house of people being stalked by a killer (one who talked). I remember little except that when there were 3 of us left, he demanded a representative for some unknown purpose. The dream ends there." There you have it. There is considerably less to go on here than there was from the first dream, and yet taken together, the two dreams may give up some meaning.

A Salacious Dream

Yesterday I wrote of my plans to relate and analyze some dreams I have had lately. Here is the first of them. It comes from a night in which I managed to record two separate ones, but one may guess that there is a connection between them, I suppose. It may be a tenuous one, and maybe I don't see what it is, but it's hard to imagine how my unconscious mind would have been wrestling with both independently by coincidence.

Here is the record verbatim exactly as I wrote it, with names changed to spare real people involved but with no other words altered to spare myself: "Had a dream about Lucinda. I think it was at a home I lived in. There seemed to be a lot of dancing, and it was evidently leading to sex, as I checked with nervousness to be sure that I had a condom (the very condom and wallet I have in real life). I think it went well in the end, but I'm not sure." There ends my drowsy recollection of the dream.

Golden Age Of Dreams

I have, as I think I may have said, been tired all of the time lately. It's difficult to account for, and I hope it will pass, but one interesting positive has been an increased propensity for remembering my dreams. A friend says that this is common when one is very tired. All I am certain of is that I never manage to remember my dreams, except that sometimes I wake with just a hint of a wisp of one. There is not even even to begin articulating it.

That has not been true lately. I have recorded at least the bare bones of six dreams that I have had in the past week or less. I would have killed for this back in college when I was supposed to keep a dream journal. I believe I got through that assignment with theft of dreams from my roommate and outright lies. It seemed fair when the alternative was failing through no fault of my own. Ought I have been punished for then being well-rested?

A Dream Left For Dead

I have a legal pad and a pencil by my bed most nights, just in case something comes to me. That way, I don't lose it while scrambling for some other means of recording it. I could use my phone, I suppose, but I figure the legal pad is more fool-proof a method. I can decipher hand-writing made worse by sleepiness or something else, but I could have more trouble typing out something under such conditions instead of writing it by hand.

Sometimes I don't manage to get it down by any means. There was a dream a number of days ago that was barely a wisp by the time I woke up. To have attempted writing it down would have been foolish, since there were no words to capture what little I remembered, which was not even as much as feelings, colors or shapes. It was more that I remembered remembering something than that I remembered anything.

What Means This Dream?

I gather that we still don't really understand dreams. We don't know why we have them, or what they mean. I have been perceived by some as unique or twisted, but my dreams are not in the least unusual so far as I can figure. I've had some of those very common ones, such as showing up unprepared for a test at the end of the semester, or losing teeth. They are supposed to have some meaning, but I don't know whether that's true.

I've had unpleasant dreams, but not nightmares. I wake up with a start to realize that the horrible thing didn't really happen, but that goes both ways. I recently had a dream that was both terribly mundane and somewhat nice, with some strangeness thrown into the bargain. In my dream, I finally got some business cards. Every time I meet someone and desire to exchange information, they give me a card and they have to awkwardly get out their phone and take down my information. I was quite glad within the confines of this dream to get some cards.

I Dream Of A World Without Dreams

I had the most uncommon experience recently of dreaming a dream which I still remembered hours after I woke up the next day. This is not the first time I've written about dreams, but is without question the first of any depth. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but if I'm really able to get to the bottom of this thing, humanity might finally learn the answer to why we dream at all.

Isn't it fascinating that we've learned so much about the deep reaches of space, no small amount about the depths of the sea, and so very little about the contents of our own minds? We understand hypothetical extraterrestrials better than each other's points of view most of the time. The human body we understand well enough to take apart, repair with a very reasonable likelihood of success, and put together again. The brain we can sometimes repair, but the mind is no more within our grasp where such things as dreams are concerned than it was three thousand years ago.

Dreams

Had a peculiar dream last night, as always. Surprisingly, I still remember a fragment of it. It begins with me in some class, and we're getting graded papers returned (why am I in high school, when during the dream I specifically identify myself as 26?). The teacher makes a point of noting that I received the highest grade in the class, something like 97 percent. Then, somehow I wind up in trouble having used foul language in the paper. Then, my father somehow gets extorted into building an addition onto the house of someone who is a victim of the foul language.

It doesn't really seem like it adds up to anything, does it?

Dreams

I believe I may have previously written about dreams. A few nights go, I had the most peculiar dream about my father owning some kind of storage building. In it was a collection of my books. Last night, I dreamed that a certain generous soul bought me a car. It seemed to be some kind of dark-toned sedan.

Analyze away, Freud.

Half-Baked Thoughts

I've had a couple of things sort of on my mind. Firstly, I think some about relationships with people, and regardless of their depth, how they change with the familiarity that comes from living together. I think that for the typical person, there are very few relationships of which it's true that they would be better if you had that kind of closeness and familiarity. Invariably, as the saying goes, familiarity breeds contempt. Conversely, I feel there's an obviously equal truth in the saying "Absence makes the heart grow fonder".

My other thought is about dreams. They're endlessly fascinating, in part because of their reliably strange content, and partly because of their intensely ethereal nature. The contents of the dream are well known in the moment, but slip away just as soon as you even leave deep sleep. And as I said, they're very strange. I don't believe I've really ever had a dream depicting something conventional and grounded. I understand there's a great deal of research ongoing regarding dreams, but I can't imagine they'll come to any satisfying findings anytime soon. Maybe it's best if they don't.

So those are my thoughts. Perhaps I'll develop them into something.