Sunday, April 12, 2020

"All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own." - Plutarch

Dreaming is a dream of mine (pun intended). I am one of those people that it doesn't happen often too. I might have one three or four times a year, if that. I know that there are ways that you can program yourself to have more, and if you really want to, control what happens in them. But I haven't been bothered enough to look into at all in any detail. I'm certainly in the camp of it'd be nice to dream more, but the desire to make it happen isn't quite there yet.

The end of last year, fate would have it that I had two nights in a row were I dreamed. To me, at the time, it was really, really weird. It was like I didn't know my brain anymore. I don't know what the mitigating circumstances where that lined up for it to happen.

Both weren't that long, but each seemed impactful, and have stayed with me since. Because heaven knows that been plenty of the few I have had over the years have dispersed within short time of waking up. Which kind of seems like a waste, because I want to remember!

Of the first, I was with a few friends with a few other people around, and this person I didn't know very well comes up to me and hands me a book. Look one of those big, fat tomes you see at libraries, churches and in private collections. My soggy bowl of thinking matter impressed on me that this book was the complete history of said person, and it gave me such a insight of them, I now had the deepest connection I ever known with said person. And that was just upon receiving the book, not having to read it. I remembered being really flattered that they would give such a thing to me. I don't know why they did, but there it is. Upon waking for the day, it had put me in a decently good mood for the rest of the day.

Now for the second. And wow. This one kicked me in the mental pants. Again, I was surrounded by a group of friends, and one approached me to say that an extremely close friend of mine just died. This was such an emotional blow to my sleeping brain, that it physically woke me up crying. It probably took me close to twenty minutes to calm back down enough to try sleeping again. Even going through the next day, just thinking back on it, it would make me become verklempt for a bit.

Now, it didnt feel like those two dreams were connected. But who knows. Theres been enough time thats passed, that I can look back on it and talk about it. But, for awhile there, I was really tight lipped about the subject. It amuses me to think of what Freud would to say all about those two nights. But knowing him and my brain, theyre both kind of dicks.


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