Wednesday, March 19, 2008

About Dreams

I am not famous for my ability to recall dreams. This is troubling because as a writer, dreams are a near infinite supply of subject. Last night, however, I had a dream very similar to many other dreams, that I tend to remember. One rarely forgets the dreams that recur, hell even a poor dream recaller is going to remember the dream that pops up over and over.

My dream last night, was not a carbon copy of any other dream that I have had in the past. It began with me in a mountainous area, could have been anywhere, I will say in Eastern Europe, because my mind is still there. I was hiking around this area, alone, although there were other anonymous characters around, random families, fellow travelers, that were on the peripheral at first, they did not seem part of the plot. I found myself in a particularly stunning spot, there was a lake, a beautiful green mountain, the birds were singing, I had found Eden, I wanted to capture it in a photo. I rifled through my belongings, found a digital camera, but the flash did not work, funny because it was the middle of the day, in the waking world, this would have mattered not. Finally I decided to ask a family if I could borrow a camera from them, it was imperative that I capture this moment in time, and quickly. They loaned me a disposable Kodak, no explanation as to how I might receive the photo in the future, the people were faceless, it was the photo that mattered, the picture had to be taken. Snap, I was transported from my Eastern European mountain paradise, to a forked woods road, definitely in the Canadian Boreal Forest, most probably in Alberta. I have been here before, this is where the dream recurs. In previous dreams there are cabins on the logging road that forks to the right, I tend to stay in one of them, there is usually a scenario where I try to purchase or rent the cabin before the crowds arrive. The logging road to the left leads deep into the woods, and into a maze of other logging roads, it best to avoid the left logging road, its where anxiety and pee dreams live. Last night I did not choose either of the paths, seems my brain decided to change channels, the dream ended, and I did not out of have to deal with Robert Frost's quandary in The Road Not Taken.

What does this all mean? Nothing I bet, simply the brain playing tricks, a little mental diarrhea, a spot of neurotic, subconscious digestion. I thought it might be interesting to see how it looks on the written page. I am not willing to dissect any of it yet, I am not sure if there is any rhyme or reason to my dreams in the first place. I am happy that I actually woke up this morning with a dream still fresh on my mind. Maybe its a sign of things to come.

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