You're Welcome. Carry On Dreaming

Say thanks! I'm not going to write about anything substantive today. I'm in a mood.

Relax, I'm not going to describe any dreams. Poetry and dreams are certain death for a blog. But I have a comment on the process. Of dreams, that is, not poetry.

I am informed, and believe, that what we see in dreams are merely place-holders for the actual subject matter. Many writers have kept dream notebooks and found ideas for stories in there among the nonsense. That might work, and good for them. It does appear, though, that mining dreams for their deeper meaning is probably a waste of time. If it's all symbolic, or only the photographic record of separate items that the brain is sorting in our sleep, then dream analysis really is a waste of time. They have their effect though, don't they? They do on me.

Over the course of the last week, I have awoken from two dreams that were very similar in the style of the imagery, the nature of the subject matter, and the overall tone. Vague on the details of the visuals; family centered on the subject; and without any fear or menace in the tone. Both had a powerful emotional impact on my mood upon awaking. One gave me a feeling of well-being and absolution that lasted throughout the day. The other left me sitting on the edge of the bed feeling responsible for terrible things, worthless, and horribly alone.

We go to sleep at night, and for an unknown portion of that time, we dream. The brain remains active for the entire time that we are asleep, forming, collating, and filing memories, solving problems, searching too, I think, for long ignored bits of memory that would have come in handy earlier on that particular day or another day, perhaps long ago. I know for sure that the brain, in sleep-mode, goes over events that happened weeks or months ago, still wondering if important actions or information had been omitted. Amid this hurricane of electro-chemical activity, dreams bubble to the surface to console us or taunt us, or just to confuse us.

Many people never remember dreams or dreaming. They may know that for a medical certainty they do dream, but asked under penalty of perjury if they did, in fact, dream, they would be forced to say, “not to my knowledge.” They might be the lucky ones.

For the rest of us, dreams are our fate, and we enjoy them or suffer them accordingly. May all of your dreams be cheerful and lighthearted, and may all of your nightmares be forgotten even before you realize that you have had them.