Sunday, February 24, 2008


Two Dreams:

1. I dreamed I was riding a bicycle with some friends. We were riding a long way. We came to a river trail that was very wet. We found ourselves riding next to a bridge. The trail was narrow and slippery next to this bridge. The friend on the bike ahead of me was suddenly swallowed deep into the earth, bicycle and all.

2. I dreamed that Allen and I were at the ocean. We were having a good time, picking up seashells. Then a huge wall of water rose up before us and froze momentarily. We ran away. We ran through a cave which was open at both ends. The wall of water broke and rushed toward us. This is a recurring dream.


emmapeelDallas said...

What interesting dreams! I have sleep apnea, and one of side effects is that you dream less and less, because you don't make it to REM sleep, however, I've finally gotten a machine, allowing me to sleep normally (if you can call masking up like Darth Vader before going to bed sleeping normally)...and the dreams are back, LOTS of them, and vivid, and I do enjoy them...

ggw07 said...

Powerful dreams. A recurring dream can be insightful. I've had several. One recently and unexpectedly resurfaced. I suddenly remembered it in my waking hours, recognized it like an old friend, and understood it for the first time. I remembered terror in the dream, but awake and conscious in the day, was able to face the fear calmly, and with interest in what the dream told me.

ggw07 said...

"Man is a genius when he is dreaming."
Akira Kurosawa
See Akira Kurosawa's "Dreams" some day.


Anonymous said...

I love a good dream! Yours is scary but intriguing. Last night I dreamt that a handsome younger man was unabashedly flirting with me. Divorced and lonely, there's no need for interpretation...ah, but waking up alone is such a letdown. So far the only guy to flirt with me outside the dream state is bald, missing a tooth, writes notes ending in ha-ha-ha, and can't tell the difference between your and you're. Cringe! Teagrapple.



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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