I have a very active nightlife … after I go to bed … and especially before I wake up in the morning. My dreams remind me of James Joyce’s Ulysses or other novels that reflect the use of a stream of consciousness technique in their preparation. For the unknowing, let me say that this method of writing presents a person’s thought processes, as they are happening, in an attempt to reveal his character. Thoughts are often disjointed and seemingly unconnected.
I’m not sure what my dreams say about me. Here’s a run down of the latest (nightmare?). I was visiting my mother in an apartment. Her dog was drinking soapy water out of the bathtub where she was soaking a textile, so I drew some clean water for the dog, but she preferred the other. Then, I left and climbed down a mountain. I could see a large horse pen across the street, with black horses and white horses, both male and female. These were gorgeous animals who were parading down the street before being placed in vans … to be carried off somewhere.
I tried to go back to mother’s place on the side of the mountain, but in that short time, it had been blocked off and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get there. However, I could hear the voices of other family members who were with her. One of her granddaughters was showing her a model of Austria that she’d built, and was telling her she really should go there sometime as it is so beautiful!
Taking an alternate route up the mountain, I found a big screen TV and a few chairs. Next to me, was sitting a long-departed friend, eating a chocolate treat and complaining that it wasn’t frosted. Her friend joined us. Just as a movie came on, the mountain started spitting chunks of ice and I realized that an avalanche was in progress. Children and others were being swept down the mountain, as if sliding, while I sat off to the side, eating a chocolate bar and trying to decide if I should sit still, or be swept down the hill with the others. It was a decisive moment in which it was imperative to make a decision, yet, I was so paralyzed with fear, I couldn’t.
At that juncture, luckily I woke up. There may be some deep, psychological issues here, to decipher. I imagine if I had deep pockets, I could lie on some guru’s couch and have my dreams “interpreted.” For now, I think I’ll just wait for a book offer, or for the phone to ring with “Hollywood calling.” Who knows? With my dreams, maybe someday I could be as famous as James Joyce!
Patricia Cummings, http://www.quiltersmuse.com
