They have been epic and long of late. Sometimes I live someones lifetime from birth to death. I awake in review every morning. I arise from another living, to concrete awareness--awakeness. Fragments of each nights episodes stick to my day. At work, the fragments hum those other awarenesses and cause smile.
Last night there was a scaffolded structure called the Unago. It was either 4200 or 7200 feet tall. It was built in the desert on Indian Land. There was an audience who stood in back of the structure awaiting a show. My friend Jessica jumped from the platform at the top, with the help of bungie ropes, down into a small hole in the ground that was filled with water. The hole was small but the water was deep. She went all the way down the depth of the water, and was then pulled out with the bungies and swung into the air, like a trapeze artist. The crowd was awed. Later, the tribal elders provided a meal for everyone. Jessica sat down, and composed an essay about her experience jumping. I awoke with the essay, like a mantra, repeating in my mind.
And so, dreams.
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Wow. Do you find yourself psychoanylizing the content of your dreams? Are they influenced by your waking thoughts and experiences? It seems, for me anyway, I'll dream what has been on my mind, in a kind of self induced Freudian couch situation, my subconscious trying to unravel the many disparate pieces of my waking life. The more I consciously think about my hopes and fears before I go to sleep, the stronger my dreams reflect them, and (I theorize) try to put some sense into the seemingly sensless events of waking reality.
But epic dreams? I haven't had any of those, that I can recall anyway. That is truly fascinating Shari. Please give some details, if you feel comfortable about it.
Sometimes, its a man who I see from his youth right into his old age. A final scene may be: a car, perhaps in the 1950's driving up an old dirt road with the man chauffeured in the back, and he is old and he is spent. He is at the end. Other times a couple who, having been on and off lovers for a lifetime, finally coming back together in their old age, and trying to squeeze together on a water bed--some sort of final resting place.
If past lives were a thing, this is where I would remember them--coming up out of the pockets of recycled cells. And I am each dream: the old man, the lovers.
They are familiar, like a novel is familiar or an old photograph; or an old movie. The dream scene always a little scratchy, like a record on a phonograph--but enduring as classical music.
I am so tired lately that I don't remember my dreams. Don't know if I dream. But I always awake refreshed though and I have become that early morning person that you always thought was crazy. I can wake up at 4:40 am with ease and face the day and make it all the way through. And often I live my dreams, but its wide awake in the great outdoors wandering in the wide open spaces.
Blazing
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