To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

It's unfortunate, perhaps, that our dreams efficiently mirror our waking mind-states. This can mean that never will you have to spawn a bipolar existence; but, on the other hand, should you be going through a particularly mundane period of your life, your dreams will also offer no vacation.

My dreams, lately, have dealt with repetition and frustration. In one dream, I washed and broke a dozen glasses, one after another, by haphazardly placing them on a wet windowsill, my frustration mounting as each new glass shattered. In another dream, I tried to have sex with four different people (not all at once), but each time something strange and disagreeable would happen: one partner grew a rather pinocchio-like nose, except much more frightening; another sprouted thick black hair all over his face; yet another fled when I suggested she take a shower (!); and the last, I fell asleep in a pile of clothes.

For a while, from about mid-March until quite recently, I wasn't sleeping. When I did sleep, it was restless and for months I hadn't been able to remember my dreams. Perhaps that's why they stand out so clearly to me now, these strange but frustrating dreams: very much like real life but exaggerated and with bonus special-effects. Yet in my dreams I am much more conscious of the forces at work than I am in waking life, despite being unable to change the inevitable outcome of whatever path I've taken: I'm aware in these dreams that I'm missing a piece of information or that I'm not looking at the situation in the proper way to achieve clarity. In waking life I merely bumble about. I may be suspicious that I'm missing something, but then again, we're all missing something - it's just whether that something is particularly relevant to what we need to know. Or what we want to know.

Right now, I'm awake. It's five twenty-five in the morning; still cool out. I think I'll make some tea.