First nightmare, a food safari, and single again

11:30pm bedtime.

“Alienation Nightmare” © 1996 by Sabu

3:45am – I am in bed watching an engrossing but creepy documentary. It begins mildly enough, but in the first few minutes it becomes apparent that this is not a pleasant video. There is cerebral violence and profound sadness here. I had put this DVD in to watch while following along with a manuscript, which I had in my hand, and in my own handwriting.

The details of the DVD are hazy now, but there is a lot of strong and dark emotion, and my notes, of course, coincide with that same dark theme. As the DVD plays and I read along intently, Teresa comes in, apparently having been talking to other loved ones outside about me. She is concerned about the content of the DVD and about my state of mind.

I point to a place in the manuscript of significant emotional anguish, and I tell her that I am not ready to let go of these feelings. Besides, I have no choice. It’s all here in the script. It’s all here in my life. I can’t escape it. I realize that the manuscript is my dream journal, and the DVD is a recording of my dreams.

This is a nightmare, the first recalled since I began writing my dream journal. I realize, too, that it is a movie I have seen played before in previous dreams. I am drawn to it. Morbidly riveted, actually.

I want to scream aloud to relieve my soul of the bottled feelings, but in doing so I know it will harm those around me, causing frightful confusion. They would never understand. Teresa leaves the room, sympathetic and understanding. She understands. She always understands. I release a huge silent scream of pain. My spine tingles with ice cold terror. This is a lonely journey, I realize. Sometimes terrifying.

[Major life changes are difficult, like divorce and leaving your children at an early age to be raised primarily by your ex and whomever she chooses to remarry. So much regret now that they are grown. This dream is a reflection of that regret, the fear of damage I have done, and for just being slow to commit to the hard work of transformation.]

I am now near a mall, walking on a sidewalk with shops to my right and a small thru-street to my left. I am rejuvinated, joyful, and happy. No weight of the world, no heaviness of heart, no feeling of deep sadness. I am carrying my dream journal.

Two dream characters, whom I am familiar with in real life [Ryan and his partner, David] pull up in their car. David is the passenger. I ask David if he would journal with me, so that I have someone to keep me motivated and accountable. Journaling is hard work, and it takes a great commitment to do it consistently and authentically.

“I would be delighted to write,” David said, “But my journal will be about politics.”

I am happy to hear that he will start to journal too. I am in such a great mood.

The car begins to pull away from the curb when I yell, “Stop!…”

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeech.

“…. in the name of love… before you break my heart….” They laugh and drive away as I sing and tap my fingers to the motown beat. [I know these dream characters in waking life from my involvement with community theatre, so breaking out in song is not necessarily an odd thing to do.]

I am walking around several stores inside the mall complex, the last is a cosmetic store with four glass walls. [Teresa works at a cosmetic store in waking life, so that’s why they have ended up in my dreams, no doubt.] After a few minutes of pacing from one side to the other, I realize I cannot find an exit door. I am starting to feel claustrophopic in this rectagular glass box. Then, the clerk behind the counter, noticing my anxiety, reaches over and slides the door open for me. I thank her and leave.

Teresa is here. I am so glad to see her. She tells me she wants to go to two stores, both of which are upstairs. The clerk of one, another cosmetic store, was rude to her on the phone and refused to let her speak to a manager. She wants to find the manager and talk in person.

Here’s the challenge. Both stores are upstairs, and the only way to get up there is to cross a huge river of vegetable casserole and scale a wall, upstream, through of cascading fall of grean bean and potato soup. I make it across the casseroles to the soup falls without getting my shoes dirty, but this is where Teresa must go alone. I am not as motivated to go with her upstairs now.

Teresa, is covered in food as she attempts to hoist herself, amidst the opposing force of falling chunks of creamy potato and herb-laden green beans. She is a real mess, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I just watch in wonder.

[In waking life, Teresa is all about enjoying the journey of life. I tend to hold back with tentative reserve, while she just dives in and enjoys the adventure.]

7am – I am walking in an alley with a dream character that I don’t know. [I think she is a hybrid of several single women I dated when my fiance lived in Los Angeles, most of whom had children from a previous relationship.] I put my arm on her shoulder and realize that this is the beginning of our relationship. Her daughter comes running up from behind us and holds my hand. I sense that this DC (dream character) girlfriend is shy and nervous.

We make it to DCGF’s house, and by this time I am holding her sleeping child in my arms. DCGF’s parents are there, lying on the floor, apparently waiting for us to get home. I ask if DCGF’s daughter needs a nap.

“You’re so old fashioned,” she answers. “Kids don’t nap anymore.”

There is also a massive manhunt in the neighborhood. Police sirens are sounding, and the neighborhood kids are all outside, shooting each other with airsoft gunfire. Apparently there are fugitives hiding in one of the nearby houses.

[My fiance and I have been discussing, in waking life, the option of either having children of our own or adopting. I had a vasectomy after having four children during my first marriage. My age and the length of time since my vasectomy are factors that will affect the likelihood of success. Teresa has never been pregnant, and we would like to try for a baby. I have been doing research on vasectomy reversals, which has given me some anxiety. This is probably the reason I still dream, from time to time, about the thought of marrying someone who already has children of their own. All in all, I have no apprehension about my decision to begin this stage of life with Teresa. I will go with her to the ends of the world.]

Dreamsign Catalogue:

1. Inner awareness (0/4)

2. Action (4/15)

• I had put this DVD in to watch while following along with a manuscript, which I had in my hand, and in my own handwriting.
• I release a huge silent scream of pain.
• After a few minutes of pacing from one side to the other, I realize I cannot find an exit door. I am starting to feel claustrophopic in this rectagular glass box.
• DCGF’s parents are there, lying on the floor, apparently waiting for us to get home.

3. Form (2/14)

• I realize that the manuscript is my dream journal, and the DVD is a recording of my dreams.
• …and the only way to get up there is to cross a huge river of vegetable casserole and scale a wall, upstream, through of cascading fall of grean bean and potato soup.

4. Context (0/12)

Intuition and lucid dreaming

What is intuition?

According to Google, intuition is a noun that means the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning. The origin of the word is Latin, denoting spiritual insight or immediate inner seeing.

For those of us on a quest into the inner world of the self, this is a concept worth exploring. Intuition belongs to the subconscious, like a knowing or truthful belief. Lucid dreaming is the ability to consciously interact with this inner world, and perhaps to access hidden treasures that for most people, through cultural conditioning or ignorance, is unattainable.

Paul McCartney hears the melody of “Yesterday” in a dream.

I prefer to believe that all things are within the realm of the possible, and that lucid dreaming is a way to explore the reservoir of genius, wisdom, and even perennial truth. After all, where did Galileo, Bach, Mozart, Edison, and McCartney achieve greatness? Were they just lucky? Or did they tap into something accessible to us all?

They tapped into themselves first, and shared their discoveries with the rest of the world in the form of self-expression.

Who is to say what you can or cannot do? Who is to determine the length and breadth of your accomplishments while in this brief life of waking and sleeping? What authority is to proclaim that these two modes of experience are mutually exclusive? As a dreamer in life, should you not live in such a way as to enhance your dreams? And what should come of riches inside your the dream world? Should they not also expand your waking life?

Our world is a mystery. Life is a mystery. And dreams have been far too important, revered, studied, worshiped, and interpreted for them to be of no good use. They are not meaningless, as Aristotle first proposed, or the ancients wouldn’t have used them to predict possible outcomes, heal the sick, and communicate with the gods. Dreams are not the simple effects of random neural firings, as suggested by Alan Hobson and Robert McCarley in 1977, or their contents would be devoid of artistic richness and logic, as in the example of the musician from Liverpool, who first heard the melody of “Yesterday” in a dream.

Dreams are a way to approach your hidden genius. So convinced that he had subconsciously plagiarized the melody of “Yesterday” before dreaming it in its entirety, Paul McCartney played it for friends and associates for about a month, asking if they had heard it anywhere. “Eventually it became like handing something in to the police. I thought if no one claimed it after a few weeks then I could have it” (Paul McCartney quote from Wikipedia).

“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” – John Lennon