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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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One dream which stands out for the ease of interpretation.
I had finished at a job, with the corporation, it was a disgraceful ending, I had spoken my mind, not really, not even a little but quoted out of context, out of place, I had broken the rules, said something I regretted and was let go.
I had behaved badly. Sure, there were many excuses, overworked, understaffed, permanently stressed with ridiculous deadlines, unattainable targets, and representing hypocritical customer service ambitions.
But I had behaved badly, spoken hastily under stress, and was let go.
And so I went home, both saddened and relieved that this little nightmare was over.
I collect wrist watches, vintage watches, Bulova, Hamilton, Omega, Rolex, any old watches. I have a box full, some are working, some need repair. They are the tangible inheritance I will pass to my children.
When I got home I took a nap. I dreamt my supervisor was breaking into my apartment, the rest of the company was outside waiting for her in a van.
She was breaking in to my apartment, I passed her in the hall as she was carrying out my furniture. She came back again, now to steal my watches. I watched her carrying them out the van, to divide and share with the other employees.
The interpretation was simple - the company had been stealing my watches, my "time" with them was stolen.
When I awoke I saw this, clearly now by way of the dream. And I was less upset.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1443
I woke up, groggy, barely able to move but I was going to write down this dream, it would only take a minute, I could fall asleep again when I finished.
And I turn on the light, check the clock - must be 3 - 4:00 AM?
It's 7:10 and I'm late, my dream is swiftly evaporating.
There was my mother, somewhere off in a town, shopping, a small old town on a forested mountainside that runs to the sea, overcast, old brick houses and shops. A ferry, I was on it waiting for her, she should hurry or she'll miss it. She missed it.
And N*** - her profile, in 3 paper thin slices, one slice merely a shadow, the other 2 filled with pink polka dots.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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There is a strange logic to dreams, "Dream Logic" I like to call it. It's where seemingly random associations become imbued with meaning. People, strangers become lovers and confidantes and you don't question it, it's part of the dream. Old neighborhoods become both strange and familiar, where you can become lost in your own house, or take a shortcut that leads you across the world. Distant friends and schoolmates will reunite, people long forgotten in conscious thought reappear in new guises, new relations. In dreams, the mind functions as a whole, disbelief is suspended, incredible events are accepted as ordinary and subservient to a twisted, twisting logic that perverts and recreates memory. One has a dream and in it one recognizes an almost instant familiarity, as if one has had this dream before, never the exact same dream, but the same dream nonetheless. And yet upon awakening it is brand new. And they have the ability to overwrite memory, I have woken from dreams of my childhood, of a childhood I never experienced in a house filled with strangers become relatives, in a town I have never visited become home, yet in the dream I recognized it all and awoke strangely saddened that this dream wasn't my childhood. And strangely disturbed.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
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Last night a few dreams, a mixed-up hodge podge, I awoke to write them down, but saw no meaning in them; I was tired, they were random and chaotic, I didn't turn on the light and fell back asleep.
So I'll write of another dream once I had, an old dream - animated in rich blues and amber. It made an impression.
I am a point of view at sea, no substance, only my senses, flying, there is a tempest and from the waves rise up waterspouts that meet with the low and ragged clouds, then turn into Atlanteans, briefly, bearing the sky upon their shoulders, and then rain back, falling into the sea. I am flying through this, it is animated, deep blues, flashes of lightning illuminate the denizens of the deep, translucent jellyfish and giant shadows swarming beneath. As a wave subsides I move in, there is a ship spinning in a trough between the waves, an old galleon, timbers lit from within like logs on a fire, hot embers and glowing salamanders flicker upon the surface. I move into the cabin, there a small chest, a treasure, as I approach it opens, and within it on a velvet lining there is a silver hand holding a pen. It is almost too brilliant to behold..
I awake.
An interesting link on how television shapes our dreams: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/main.jhtml?view=DETAILS&grid=&xml=/earth/2008/10/17/scidream117.xml
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1420
5:00 AM and I have laid awake the past 2 hours, woken at 3:00 AM suddenly, awake, restless. No dreams that I can recall, but a sense of urgency, a missed connection, a premonition. I check my email, there is nothing, outside it's raining, cool, leaves turning to mulch on the lawn, the streets glisten...I've left the windows on the car open...
My premonitions are rare, but seldom wrong, I am more logic than instinct, but I heed the voice, it's a beautiful morning, a cigarette, one of many final cigarettes while I gather my thoughts.
And so I return to bed, wondering what compelled me to get up, trying again to fall asleep. I should know better, there is a reason for my waking even if I do not see it, and so I try to hide the little problem of my waking beneath the bigger problems, the big questions...
I muse upon the lies that create truth, symmetry, and other trifles, but none lead me to sleep. I wonder at the demons that have cropped up lately in my dreams, not being religious I wonder where they have come from... There was another demon recently, a short dream, a short demon, he merely entered the room, following somebody else but, I was busy, watching a mozza melt on a veggie burger I was making, waiting, it would be ready soon. I was hungry, the demon left.
Now, a pot of coffee and the day begins. There is work to be done, I need a shovel and rake, the compost needs to be placed outside and raked into the garden, twigs need to be gathered, websites built... there is work to be done.