where the writers are
Dreams

 

"These dreams go on when I close my eyes.  Every second of the night I live another life."

I was walking gingerly along the eave of an icy roof.  I could see the moonlight sparkling on frosted surface of the shingles, and feel how my foot slid as I navigated my way from one place to another.  I knew that there was no turning back, safety was ahead of me not behind.  Slowly and cautiously I continued on my journey and woke up before I reached my destination.  Hours later the images are still sharp and clear colorful.  That's how it is every night.  It's a rare morning that I don't remember at least one dream.  It was quite a shock when I first discovered that other people didn't remember their dreams the way I did, or that they were flat and lifeless. 

Sometimes it's obvious that I'm wrestling with something, like now.  The night before I had emptied a bag of dog food (not sure why since I have cats) into a container and was tossing out the bits that fell on the floor and the bag.  A man standing near-by said "you shouldn't have brought that into the house, look what a mess you made."  And I said "no problem. I'll just take this and throw it away."  I grabbed the four corners of the plastic bag, pulled them together and walked out side.  As I went to toss it in the garbage can I woke up.  And the night before that,  I was standing with friends and when I ran my fingers through my hair an insect emerged and flew away.  I rubbed hard at my scalp and several more came out (for some reason this did not seem creepy but normal).  I continued rubbing and more and more emerged, and then with a final shake of my head the last insect flew away and I thought to myself, "good, that's done then".

I stopped telling people about my dreams when I was still a child because adults didn't believe me.  They thought I was just making up stories.  I guess in a way I was since my mind was doing all this, but I wasn't consciously doing it.  I wonder what my life would have been like if instead of telling me to stop making things up, some adult and encouraged me to write them down and imagine more things.