Thirty Three

Day Thirty-Three:  Nostalgia

Dreams.  Is it so hard to understand them?  Dreaming reminds me of painting, did I create these or are they just thrust into my head, bound to take hold atleast five minutes of my subconscious REM cycles and intrude into my solitary, private thoughts.  Dreams come into my mind and float back out again, but most of all they seem like not to be mine.  There was this dream about the back of a door in a room that was painting red with…soft.  Soft seems to be the only word to describe a lot of things lately.  This paint was soft, and it was touchable, but it turned, once I touched it, to something unfortunately very disturbing and I did not want to touch it anymore.  The thing about the dream is, you don’t decide what you want, and so I touched anyway.

Could it be that something deeper is trying to deliver a message?  Or is it possible that these dreams, these uncontrollable passages into imagination and..cruelty(?) are there for a private entertainment?  I couldn’t decide if I woke up two hours earlier because emy dreams were so vivid, but then again, I’m plagued by night terrors, where every single dream I have deteriorates my resolve and I wake up crying or panting heavily.  I may not always be running, but there’s always that fear from my dreams.  Sleeping is one of those intensely private moments of one’s life, but my dreams seem to sink in to my consciousness too, unescapeable.  Which leads me to believe their uncontrollability.

Last night I dreamt that there was a large clear water pond that I lived beside on a small red arm chair, and there was a waterfall somewhere off in the distance.  It was always daytime, but when it was time to sleep all of the bad things were visible, and therefore impossible for me to rest.  I woke up terrified, there was something I did not want to do happening, like logical thought virtually escaped me, and not only did the danger of this dream engage me..it didn’t feel like a dream, needless to say.

I do not analyse my subconscious from my dreams, as I remember most, but I do look at the things I was thinking about the day before and see them reflected in them.  Not really a look in the mirror, these dreams, but more through the looking glass.  Lengthening those thoughts to something stranger, un-solved, less than the thoughts of the day but more…intricate?  I would have to say that I do not fully understand why I dream anything at all, it doesn’t help that a lot of them include people I know or things that have happened before.  I have a hard time defining reality.

That’s why I included this today, because I could not tell you if that painting I saw the other evening in a dream was from the day or night.  Something so un-understandable really frightens me.  Leads me to believe that despite all of this dangerous, terrifying content, my dreams could potentially lead me to a new semi-novella.  I wrote one a couple of summers ago off of a dream I had, and thus intend to try tomorrow once more, here.

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