I've finally figured out what's going on when I dream. I assume we all have pretty fucked up dreams. It's other universes in there, isn't it. Rules in the waking world just don't apply. You can fly, see people you haven't seen in years, run into new creatures, long dead pets, have sex in the street with complete strangers... anything goes. It's brilliant.
But do you ever get those dreams that wake you up because they seem so loaded with symbolisim that you spend the day wondering what the hell they were trying to tell you? You tell bored friends or workmates about them and hope they will come up with an interpretation. You might even log onto a dream interpretation website because the dream in which your teeth fell out or your cat spoke to you or your willie suddenly turned into a quite lovely vagina when you took your place at the trough, it just had to mean something, right?
Anyway, it just struck me recently that none of it means a damn thing. Last night, for example, I dreamed that I was looking at a group shot of friends. First thing that leapt out at me was that in the photo, I was fat. I was as fat as the fattest I had been in my life (which was not obese, it's just that I don't do fat well at all. I need to be thin). In the dream, I was quietly devastated because in the waking world - my dreamself was aware - I had lost a bit of weight recently and am again precisely as thin as I am meant to be.
What did it mean? What was this dream trying to tell me?
Nothing. Nothing at all. It was simply my brain playing a joke on me. It's a braingag. My brain knew the effect inserting a fatty photo would have on me and was laughing its brain-arse off.
Well ho ho, Brain, I hope you've been enjoying all your little brainpranks because now that I'm on to you, it's game on. We'll see who comes out of this little joke war laughing last.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Yes, I've been in a battle with my brain for some time. It might think it's going to get away with those sneaky little tricks it pulls in the dead of night. But no! I'm pulling out the vodka and killing off a few thousand neurons. Then we'll see who's got the upper hand!
Viva la vodka! Here's to upper hands and beating smart-arse brains.
Oh, vodka. Good stuff. Dreams are strange but mostly in a good way.
Dreams are brilliant. Be great if we could spend real time waking hours in our dreams. Trippy.
Ah yes, dreams, isn't it fun when you're having a very explicit sex dream featuring you and someone you fancy? Then on waking I do sometimes bring myself to ask the question: are me and Owen Wilson [or insert sex object in dream here] meant to be together? Is this dream trying to tell me that I should move to Hollywood, hang out at the place he has breakfast and accidentally spill orange juice on his lap, forcing a meeting between us? But then I realize, nah, it was just a wanktastic dream meaning jack all, alas.
Post a Comment