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