the shadow world

so apparently the theme of my dreams has been "past challenges"

there is a bit of irony in that given that in the dreams I am facing and surmounting said challenges with such grace and ease. My mom tells a story of how and just when she mastered slalom skiing. It was in a dream. The next day, despite weeks of struggle, she popped right up and can to this day, regardless of how long she's been off the water.

My dream challenges:
properly cleaning a house
fixing things (again, house related)
cooking
making a perfect cup of coffee (or perfectly acceptable, rather)
...
and now just typing all of that I realize these dreams have been about the home front. About what is my home -- and home perhaps a metaphor referencing knowing myself; where my dreams reside within me and having the ability and knowhow to answer and follow/fulfill myself.

At this moment, compositions and production/creative design I find most fulfilling. Perhaps after so many years of multi-creative tasking, i am ready to settle in and make a nest for myself in this symbiotic niche. Why yes, I rather think that's it -- and to perfect the skills associated therein. Perhaps in the next week I will deduce what the cake, coffee, and cleanliness symbolize.

to dream...my impossible dreams.

---

I dreamed a dream...

of Goddard West.
Many familiar faces.
And new faces.
And different modes of transportation.
and...
CAKE.

Lots of cake.

The narrative ran something like this:

I had arrived at Goddard West with Hazel and John and their fiddle player in a white stationwagon -- oldsmobile from the early 90's, white. The time at Residency is hazy to my dream recollection, but before leaving, one of the girls at camp wanted to make sure we got a piece of cake. We opened the faculty fridge and it is PACKED with cakes, sheets of pastries, and many of kinds of sweets. She reaches for one cake, I pull out another. Sweets are stacked on sweets and I remember clearly selecting my piece, although it was not what I had in mind when we first opened the fridge. I remember taking one tray off of my cinnamon and creme rolls and then cutting into the sheet pastry and taking my first bite. The exact crumbliness and give of the roll -- everything -- was so specific and real in the dream. My partner in crime was surprised at my choice of pastry -- she chose differently -- but I recall feeling so content and the sweet roll hit the spot. Then it was time to go and I realized that Hazel was staying longer to do workshops, but I was ready to go. For a split second, I felt panic at unplanned separation. Then I realized I had already reserved a spot on the Rocket and had no need to panic.

SCENE.

I need time to think on this one; however, the selection of cakes in the home of the advisors is one of the key metaphors, in my interpretation. The home of the advisors symbolizes wisdom, knowledge,life choices (embodied by the teachers themselves) and the fridge is how the wisdom, choices are preserved. The cakes to me represent possibilities, choices even, in life. In selecting a cake, while I thought I knew what I wanted, I looked further and changed my mind. My selection went counter to the "popular choice" and the expectation of my colleague. In essence, my "fave" changed in a matter of dream seconds. Since the dream was at Goddard, I think it relates to my journey over the past few years. The journey began with some friends, but does not necessarily continue with the same comfortable group. I think my return towards home on the Rocket is about the solitude of the inward journey. We go it alone, but need not face our journey with such trepidation or feel that it is unexpected. While I worried in the dream, the Rocket was there all along. The worry was superfluous. The cake, essential.

Daytripper...

I'd rather write about my daydreams. It's easier, less involved and lazy work. After a night of mindful dreaming I simply lack the intiative to further the study by journaling my nighttime recollections. This has to stop. It is where my procrastinatino has burrowed down to hide for its long winter. While the rest of my life is in a new spring of life, learning, and expansion, my little dream world has gone into hibernation. I awake with dusty visions of fuzzy heads and an even fuzzier world in which these heads bop around, have lives and loves, et al...

I suspect it is the people -- i.e. male romantic "leads" -- in my dreams that I do not choose to remember so clearly and the resulting action is reduced to blurs and crossfades in my conscious mind.

Self-judgement is most likely the culprit. So I make mistakes, gross errors and epic fails! "Congratulations on being fully-embodily human!" I should write a song about it -- my humaness - human mess.

More on that later. Maybe the song will free my memory.

-- With heavy lids,
Phantasus

The good news is...

I have been remembering my dreams much more clearly after acknowledging my frustration issue.

The bad news... is that it is taking longer than projected to decipher the sharpie encrypted writings of the night before. I'm getting closer. Soon to come, 3 good and detailed dreams.

Morpheus, the fair and tired.

St. Patrick's Night

This is what I woke up and wrote at 12:47am. Verbatim.

Chefs kitchen. Meeting someone. Dating someone Luke you. Kea t

And I'm not at all sure what it means. At the time I remember feeling unsettled and trying to maintain awareness in the dream to write it down in my journal. Now that I think back and quiet my mind, I do remember chefs being in the kitchen. I know some of the local chefs, or rather they are social acquaintances; however, I cannot recall particular faces and personalities from my dream world. Oh well, there is always tomorrow night.

zzzzzz.....

Morpheus

Dream me a dream

Lately, I have had trouble remembering my dreams. It's not what you think. The images are clear, the action linear, the characters familiar...I just don't like what's showing up in that old subconscious of mine. It's been the parade of exes for the past week. Nothing but old boyfriends -- old, no good throwaway boyfriends -- coming to torment me like succubi in the night.

The first was Ron, the ghost of boyfriends past. Then Tom, the ghost of boyfriends past-er. I could list everyone but I feel the breech of privacy, mine and theirs, already...

Needless to say, at first I was all about remembering... actively living the dream, the better to recall it and journal journal journal as soon as I woke up. But after three successive nights of reliving past loves and disappointments, my enlightened self was rather cranky.

I am not sure if the message is in the dream, or is in the pattern of sleep, wake and not remembering. While sleeping (and love life dreaming) I am aware that I do not want to wake -- is this the message? That the "love" is a dream, a phantasm of a non-existent reality? Is the repetition of love dreams not to torture me but to represent a chain, a behavioral pattern of ill-informed choices? And the not remembering, rather than a frustration at not having something to write in my dream journal...is it an expression of my inner agony of repeating the past?

Hmmm....we'll see what happens after a cup of sleepytime tea tonight.

Sweet Dreams,

Morpheus