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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1341
This was a long dream last night, with several parts, I woke at 2:00 AM to write it down in part, but have a crushing headache, notes were scanty.
J***, the boys step father, has pulled up in his white truck to drop the boy off. I invite him in for a beer, he accepts, I tell him follow the boy inside, I'll just have to run to the store....I don't have any beer on hand, must go buy some.
And now I am returning on foot from someplace deep in Southeast Calgary, across the Deerfoot trail, I'm cutting through some sort of amusement or theme park, large green trees everywhere, old buildings filled with old machinery, my children are somewhere up ahead. It's a weekend. I keep running into construction workers, people I've worked with on odd jobs about the city, they seem friendly enough and remember me, I remember them only vaguely but they say hi and remember where we've worked together, they seem happy enough. The beer has been forgotten. Leaving the park, there are 3 bridges I must cross to get home, but I first must climb these steps up a large hill, on either side is a man-made terraced waterfall, filled with vintage watches, most of them are free for the taking, some are seperately priced. I stop to look at some, pulling them out of the water, the seperately priced ones are in plastic baggies nailed into the concrete. They are all interesting, unique, but no-name brands, not worth the repairing, I haven't time to look at them all, I remember having been here once before with D** and wonder how I've forgotten about it. I get to the top of the stairs, now in a long promenade of green trees, there is a group of husky 15 and 16 year olds coming up the stairs behind me, shouting taunts and insults, I think to ignore them, wonder why their doing this, then decide to wait for them, teach them a lesson. They reach the top of the stairs and I knock one of them down, they are surprised, hurt, offended, they weren't directing their comments at me, they were talking to a group of youths ahead of me, I am friends with their mother, (I look down the stairs now and see a 37 year old blonde, she waves and then turns shyly away), we feel bad about the misunderstanding.
I keep going, the children always just ahead of me, Calgary becomes again the real Calgary, not the dreamscape of bridges and trees, I am closer to home...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1400
N*** is upstairs in the kitchen.
I'm in the basement. It's a dark decrepit basement suite-type affair, brightly lit with an unshaded single bulb on the ceiling, dark corners, the lighting is theatrical. I'm meeting, beneath the bulb, 2 people in suits, generic people, unrecognizable, one is a man, the other a woman. I think the woman is asian, but it's unimportant.
They want me to be a secret agent. The woman explains that I need to spend the next year in the basement training, they've assigned someone to work with me...I have to learn over 100 martial arts.
It seems like a lot, but the woman explains "Many of them are only a paragraph long" and I accept this.
The woman that works with me, she's dark, full figured, a pastiche of women I've known, we're still in the basement, every day it's the same, we wake up, she wants to have sex, I'm concerned because she's not teaching me anything - "Don't worry about it" she tells me, the same basement, dark in the corners, brightly lit in the center with an unshaded lightbulb, sex is routine, mechanical, a job...
It's been a year, N*** is still upstairs in the sunny kitchen, peeling onions, cooking food....She's quietly angry with me. The girl with me in the basement is still training me, she doesn't see a problem with this, every day is the same...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1245
It had to happen, so much time in front of a computer. When I waited tables there were "Waiters Nightmares" - every waiter knows what they are, you're in a restaurant where the people keep coming and you can't keep up, they're sat faster than you can serve them, a classic anxiety dream.
And now, different dreams for a different profession.
Dreams of code, visual images of sheets of numbers passing through my ears, there is no anxiety associated with these dreams, just pages and pages of numbers and code passing between my ears, as if on a ribbon. I don't understand the code in my dreams, there is no importance or value to understanding, it's just the regurgitation of a days work, numbers, letters all unwinding from my brain.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1371
I'm in a kitchen - it's huge, spotless, covered in stainless steel. Everywhere there are people dressed in white, chefs and kitchen porters, my job is to scrub the large baking pans, we're talking, the chefs and I, I've just recieved my Masters Degree in English, one of them jokes about it, someone else tells him to give me a little respect. Outside, on the way home, a sunny, summers day, and I think to myself "What can I do with a masters in English? Maybe become a proofreader"....this thought is discouraging.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1323
There are many books written upon the symbolism of dreams, how-to books that attempt to interpret for you what your dream meant.
Their value, however, depends on how much you are a product of the society that prints them. While there are unquestionably archtypes, everyone has somewhere their own mythology, and unless you have read and reread those dictionaries you are liable to find many of your dreams don't fall within their pat categories and conventions. Should you find they are, question how indoctrinated you've become, that your dreams so closely resemble everyone elses...
If you've written your dream down quickly after waking you will often find that it's interpretation becomes clear. The relationships, the problems, the events will explain themselves. Leaving it, however, and brooding upon it leaves it open to the reworkings of memory, and memory will often reshape and rebuild the dream each time you return to it; eventually your memory of the dream bearing no resemblance to the dream you actually had...think of it as a mental game of "Chinese Whispers". And this will make it's interpretation difficult.