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yesterday’s dreams..

April 26, 2010

well, technically, they are from the day before yesterday, according to the calendar – it is 1:11 am now and therefore into another day.

Are dreams significant? And for that matter, what kind of dream am I talking about? It can be confusing that the word “dream” can mean what we do when we sleep or something different, such as a fantasy or a goal we think about and plan for when we are awake.

I am writing about the kind of visions we get while we sleep.

I am not a New-Ager, and neither am I religious. I am not a Freudian psychologist, or a psychologist at all for that matter. But, I do see some significance in dreams. Perhaps.

At the very least, they are food for thought.

I had been debating whether or not to write about these dreams, especially when I decided I didn’t agree with the conclusion about my life that my dream lead me to. “Conclusion about my life” being very different from the phrase, “Conclusion of my life.” No, I did not dream of my own death.

I did die once in a dream, and contrary to urban legend, I did not die for real. In fact, came to life for a brief moment – in another life, as someone else, and yet myself, died again, I guess, and was again someone else, again, an adult. Maybe I’ll write about that dream which happened years ago, but I can still remember it pretty well.

Ok, since I’m on this subject, might as well talk about my earliest dreams that I can remember and hope hope hope I don’t jinx myself! I used to have nightmares as a young kid..

Earliest dream I can recall from my childhood wasn’t terribly scary, but strange indeed, and dark. My little cousin and I were huddled in a hot, dark hall way, and the heater for the home put out the heat through grates in the floor. I remember she and I huddled there both mostly unclothed, if not naked.

The second scene was me putting my penis into a hole in a strange boxy device that removed it. Didn’t hurt, but with no penis, I wasn’t pleased. I had this dream, probably when I was 4 or 5? Why the hell do I still remember this dream? I don’t know.

When I was that age, or perhaps even younger, I had nightmare visions of a hand, not a scary hand, just a hand coming up over the bed to poke me.  Actually, the hand didn’t seem to have any intent, but yet scared me terribly. It seemed real to me, not a dream at all.

My parents later told me they used to play that way, like their hand was a puppet, and they would hide alongside the bed, I couldn’t see them, just a hand. And that is what scared me while dreaming. Strangely, the light in my room was on,  or else it was daylight? I don’t know.

The other nightmare I had was an auditory hallucination. There was a noise, quiet, very quick, hard to describe really, but it was like it was a cue for the voice, or that it was being activated. I used to sleep with 8-10 stuffed animals in my bed. There were sort of my little family, and I didn’t want to exclude any of them.

I heard that little sound, and then, quite clearly, from outside of the house up in the sky, but not echoing at all, the voice of what I would now describe as that of a psychotic clown said,”Whoever heard of keeping your toys in bed with you.” Or something like that. It was the middle of the night, as far as I could tell, and yeah, this scared me. Doesn’t seem chilling at all to you reading this, but to a little kid, even an adult dealing with a crazed, phantom voice, yeah, that’s scary.

That was it though as far as really scary dreams go. I’ve had uncomfortable dreams, unpleasant but not really that scary.

Couple years back, I dreamed I was in a kitchen, a big kitchen in an older house – nice enough kitchen, and the people in it with me were demon possessed, but not dramatically so. I was a little scared, but matter-of-factly kicked the demons out – very brief exorcism, took a couple of seconds. I just did it.

Then I woke up, and for some reason, found myself looking over to the left wall, where I had hung a poster of Jim Morrison. For some reason, I connected it with the demons in the dream, and later that day, took the poster off the wall. It might be in storage, or I might have donated it.

What is not exactly pleasant about pretty much, if not all the dreams I can remember having, even the vaguest memories.. in these dreams, as in my waking life, I am always an outsider, on the periphery of society, around people, but not of them. They are foreign to me, as I am to them. It’s an alienating feeling, but yet, doesn’t trouble me too much in my dreams.

The dreams I had a few mornings ago, or might have been in the early afternoon ? I am usually not asleep ’til 4 am, and tend to stay asleep ’til at least 11 am the next morning – usually I sleep later than that – these dreams, well, one of them very brief, and the other longer but since it has been a little while since I had the dream, I don’t remember all of the details, I am guessing.

My dreams are not linear and like a movie plot, by the way, they are in segments, vignettes, I would call them – scenes.

I found myself riding in the open air in the back of a large truck with some other guys. My brother might have been with me and maybe his brother-in-law. Some of these were masculine dudes – I’ve never really seen myself as masculine, hard to be around other guys, I feel .. oh that is really hard to explain. I’m not gay, but I’m not confident or swaggery, cocky and so forth like most guys. I am not like most guys at all, and generally quite insecure and feeling myself to be different from them.

What was interesting and affirming to me though, was how I felt riding with these guys – yes, the usual outsider, different kind of person, but I felt a very calm, reserved inner-strength, and felt these other guys held me in high respect, almost awe, as if I were a wizard or mystic to something – at least, that’s how they thought of me.

I didn’t feel happy, sort of a dull, very grave feeling, with a hint of deep depression and resignation regarding life and my role in it. But, the calm part I liked.

I don’t feel calm most of the time, quite the opposite – massive anxiety problems with over-active adrenaline, mad, agitated, horny, incredibly frustrated, anxious, insecure, like I need an outlet but don’t have it. I have tinnitus, ringing in my ears, painful, almost non-stop. A symptom of stress, like my being is screaming inside but I can’t deal with it, can’t make the changes needed to be made, so stuck screaming. Lots, of fun, my life.

When I sleep, I do not have tinnitus. It takes a couple minutes or more after I wake before  my ears start to ring and sting. My panic, angst sets in.

In the dream, I felt calm.

In the first scene, the one I just mentioned, we were riding in a nice wooded residential area that I don’t recall ever seeing outside of a dream, and the truck was slowing, and I was about to get out, and do something the other guys couldn’t do. Whatever it was I was going to do was inside a house that was to our left. On our right, just grass and thick trees. I am guessing we were riding East, and I remember what I wore. The outfit consisted of faded jeans and a button down shirt a dark burnt orange color. I think I was wearing deck shoes, and physically, I was in good solid shape, no soft pot belly or weak arms. Not really buffed, but in good shape. I liked that, but didn’t think about it. I just was that way.

Next scene. Vague glimpse of less than a second of a dirty dingy city street, I was alone, and walked into a dusty, crowded room. It wasn’t a very large space, and the room was like a forgotten storage area. It was inhabited by crudely carved wooden statues of what I thought of as Old Gods. Pagan gods, I don’t remember most of their shapes, but they were taller than me. Sort a candle-lit type of light in the room, but more dull, a ghost of candles perhaps.

I was the not happy servant of these gods. I don’t know what I did for them, but I had power to do things, and they expected things of me which I had to do.

One of them spoke, but I can’t say I hears anything audibly. It was a man’s voice, coming from the wooden image in the middle, which had a dog’s head. You are probably thinking of the Egyptian god Anubis, but I wasn’t picking up any especially Egyptian vibes. This deity could have been more a European type perhaps, but I got the feeling it didn’t have a nationality or country of origin. It was deeper than that in the world.

I don’t remember all of what it said to me, but it was something to do with war. It was my job, my duty, to keep regions of the world at war. I don’t remember why. For some reason or other, I thought my job was similar to the role a character by Micke Rourke played in a movie called “White Sands.” If you haven’t seen that film, read no further, because what I am going write will probably spoil the ending somewhat. The dude Rourke played was that of an international agitator of sorts – he went hither and yon making secret trouble, creating threats to national security. He did this so there would always be conflict and danger in the world, and this was at least in part so our country could keep up its defense budget. Folks, peace, is not nearly as profitable as war.

This was my job, somehow for the gods, I had to keep tension and warfare from stopping. I did so without going places though, sort by a mental power, thinking about a globe or round map.

They told me that I had to make war happen in the East first, and then, in the South, because there had not been war happening there, and the gods demanded it. So, with a thought, I did it. Even though I didn’t want to, I had a duty. They had power over me, and would have used it to cause me to.. cease to exist perhaps? Death with no afterlife except a very short glimpse of the stars and then blackness, then nothing. Well, I had to stay alive and do what I did.

I had another conversation with them later, I don’t know what about, but I was chided (with some implied menace) for being impertinent. They didn’t like that. As before, it was the voice of one god that I heard, speaking for the others, or them all speaking through him. It was a grey, low voice, but not incredibly deep. It was the voice you might expect to hear from a pagan god that had godlike power, but was not at all concerned with its image – this was NOT a Zeus-type of deity. No thunderbolts, no flowing hair or lightning-colored robes, nothing biblical or Greek about it, just a crudely carved wooden statue, among others. And that, was enough.

Hmmm.. Next scene.

Warm night, Spring probably, in a city, but nicer, very broad area – open space, mostly cement or bricks that made of the surface, with a street alongside. I was up some steps on a concrete bench. Envision a huge university campus or an important part of a city where there is a performing arts center that is most large. I was sitting aways away from it, and a girl came up to me.

A tom-boy type – borderline lesbian perhaps, but still cute and sexy.

This part I sort of have figured out. On this past Wednesday evening, I had been a part of (and watched most of) a guitar recital at school, and one of the performers was a girl who fits this general description, and who reminded me of a woman I know currently and a girl I met years ago. The one I met some years past was definitely a lesbian and the one I know now I wonder about sometimes, because I cannot tell.

Anyway.. The one in the dream was blonde, short hair, wearing a t-shirt and shorts or cargo pants, cargo shorts? Yellow or beige shirt and khaki shorts?

An hour or two after I awoke, the appearance of this young woman changed in my head, and she became much more unattractive, but still, lingering, the memory of the real girl in the dream being attractive, and me definitely being attracted to her! Not just physically, either. The attraction went deeper. I was attracted by her appearance, and to who she was.

I hadn’t seen her before, but knew who she was.

Before she walked up, I was sitting alone, and as in the scenes before, felt very very tired, but still functioning and not needing to nap, again, I would say I felt resigned to being this way, feeling this way.

I perked up some when she walked over to me, but even so, not that much because I knew I could not be with her.

It was her turn, next.

I knew that my term serving the gods was up, that it was only for a year, and then I had to live a mundane existence. This friendly girl, it was her turn next to serve for a year. She was a naturally happy, energetic, outgoing person, and was happy about being chosen or fated or etc. to serve the gods. I said a few things to her regaring her duties. I don’t recall what I said, but I knew she already knew, and she told me she knew these things already. She said this with a smile. She was wonderful.

Last scene in this dream. I was driving down another residential street, looking a little similar but feeling different, in a different town or state than the other at the beginning, and I was this time heading North, driving in some sort of SUV, as far as I could tell by the interior and look through the large front window.

I recalled the voice of the gods telling me I was done serving them now and I had to make a living. I would have enough money to live for one year. In that time, I had to figure out how to make a living and be ready to do so, because there would be no money after that for me. I would then have to earn my own.

The road had well-spaced houses and very dark green thick lawns on one side, on my right, and green, thickly wooded area to my left. The houses had rustic wood paneling, and besides the thick lawns there were dark green, short trees.

I turned into a driveway of what was my house, which had a white garage door, somewhat faded white trim, and redwood walls. It was a nice house in a lovely area. I liked it. I smiled a little.

Then, my last vision was of myself sitting at an older computer, writing. That is how I was to make my living, so I’d hoped. I realized there was no guarantee of this, being a success, but it was what I had to do, what I was doing.

I felt deep, sad, resigned calm, with a tinge of anxiety. I was worried I might not succeed at my writing, that the money would run out, and got to work, knowing I’d need to write 8-9 hours each day, and that was how I’d spend almost almost all my days. In that house, writing, and occasionally taking a break to step outside and stand on the lawn and admire the view of the house and nature. I also felt I would continue to be chronically tired, as if I never would get enough sleep, and would never feel very awake. It was very somber feeling.

The sadness was because I knew I would never have a girlfriend, lover, etc. That was what I learned beyond any doubt when talking to the girl who came up to me. She didn’t have to say anything. I just knew. I had resigned myself to a quiet, isolated, celibate life.

I was not horribly troubled by this, and was calm.

There was one other segment, unrelated to the others, and might of only taken up a couple of seconds to dream. It might have come before this main dream, or after.

It was just me, in my room, my room of my waking life, where I sit now. I was playing the guitar – well. Smoothly. The same guitar I use when I practice these beginning classical exercises for my class. I was playing well.

The calm feeling, and the message from the main dream, I kept and agreed with, for a little while.

I realized that if I were calm, I’d feel better and have no tinnitus, but this calm feeling in my waking life would come at a price. I would stay celibate.

My thinking upon waking from this dream was that I would have to resign myself to being celibate and alone the rest of my life, and if I was somehow able to accept this, to deeply convince myself of it, my anxieties would go away, and so would my relentless restlessness and horrible feelings and tinnitus. For awhile I accepted this message, and felt calm for a little while, but..

Eventually all the anxieties and bad feelings set in terribly as usual, and also, I got to thinking.

I decided I didn’t want to give up all hope of having a woman, or several women at different times in my life, that this wasn’t entirely hopeless.

The only part I then really took to heart was feeling encouraged by the few seconds of me playing the guitar smoothly. I was able to practice more than usual, not only that day, but today too.

I don’t know what to make of dreams. The one in several segments that I had.. hmm.. it gave me a feeling of peace, even if a sad peace, and I felt somewhat good and tranquil for a little while, but ultimately did not agree with the message.

As far as the pagan deities, the places I was at, the girl I met, the writing at home to hopefully one day earn a living, I don’t know.

These are yesterday’s dreams.

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