Dreams, That Deep Well Of Ideas

Okay, I was going to do this eons ago but never got around to it for various reasons, but after last nights nocturnal adventure, I just had to share.

I dream a lot.  Not one night passes through my being without a jungian stroll through the subconscious.  I always know the difference between a dream and a psychic episode,  but no matter the origin of my night time escapades,  I have to admit the images and sensations I experience when in a hypnogogic state have bled into my work time and time again.  If I never went rummaging around the muse room, or culled characters and stories from real life it wouldn’t matter because at night I get all the material I need, trust me.  Therefore, I will now regale you with last nights trek through the cosmos of my mind/soul.  After you read it, if you are so inclined it would exceptional if you shared on your blogs your most recent dreams either in verse or a straightforward account.  I’m going with the straightforward account because quite frankly, it’s too damn weird to tell it any other way.

The dream begins with me sitting in a studio audience of a talk show.  I’m the only one there and just as I’m about to leave, a generic talk show host walks on stage with his microphone and makes an announcement:

“Right now I’d like to welcome a wonderful actor and a truly kind and lovely man.  I’m biased because he and I grew up together in Santa Barbara but trust me, he is the best….ladies and gentleman lets have a nice warm round of applause for Mr. Mike Connors, aka Joe Mannix.”

Mike Connors proceeds to walk on stage and walks to the centre where a table is located.  On the table is large picture frame filled with sand.  The host instructs him to put his face in this sand filled picture frame, as if it were one of those pin pressions  that molds itself  to your  hand or face when you press into it.  Once Mike Connors Face is in this sand pression frame, he is holding his breath and for some reason I feel as if I need to hold my breath also, so he and I don’t breathe in any sand.  It’s as if whatever he does I do and whatever I do he does.  I can see the shape of his face but his lips change to a ruby red clown mouth and I am shocked!   More than this I’m disturbed that he won’t pull his face out because I seriously need to breathe and soon.  In my mind I’m screaming at him ” for gawd sake pull your face out so we can both breathe. ”  I know he can hear me, but he is purposely ignoring and continues to keep his head in this sand pression thing.  Eventually, I can no longer stand the lack of air and start to breathe and choke until  it wakes me.  I sat on the side of the bed and was shocked to realize I had actually stopped myself from breathing while reacting to something in a dream.  I seriously sat up and choked and sputtered for a good while, it was that real.

I have no idea what the hell this means, but I’m interested in reading about your subconscious wanderings, that is if you are brave enough.  😉


Author: valo

I am a poet, writer and activist with a special interest in human rights for children and women as well as the elimination of poverty worldwide. If you read this today, feed someone locally for me will you? Drop off a non perishable food item at the food bank nearest you and consider yourself hugged. Thank you!

4 thoughts on “Dreams, That Deep Well Of Ideas”

  1. the next time i have an interesting dream i’ll have to post it, lately i haven’t been able to remember anything when i wake up. 🙂

    1. Damned if I know where the hell she was bindo, but I do know Mannix is an asshole when he has his head in the sand and he won’t let me breathe! I’m serious, that dream was so damn real it was like his lungs were my lungs and if I breathed in we both would have had sand in our lungs, like were were siamese twins or something. I never did mention the dream before this one of me eating a plate of worm filled tomatoes, but hey, at least I didn’t stop breathing.

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